Page 234 of Ruins
But I don’t need a gallery. I don’t need power. I just need him.
Chapter 46
Santo
IdebatedbringingVasilisaheretoday. The meeting will be about her father and the surveillance found from his estate, but I don’t want her away from me.
Not even for a moment.
She looks up at me, that sweet smile lighting her face as we reach the conference room doors. I hold the door open, reeling in the jealousy that claws at my throat when she rushes excitedly to her‘brothers.’
I know it was necessary to have them guard her, but the bond she’s formed with them still twists something dark inside me. I shove it down, reminding myself she’s mine—over and over—because every time she smiles at them, it feels like a brand against my skin.
I guide her to a seat at the head of the table, but as I sit, I pull her onto my lap. It’s not just a statement—it’s awarning. She is mine, and that will never change. She stiffens for a moment, a blush appearing faintly across her nose before she lets out a soft, almost inaudible giggle.
My gaze sweeps the room, sharp and unyielding. “Keep your eyes off my wife,” I order, my voice slicing through the quiet like a blade. “Unless you want to lose them.”
The subtle shift of gazes around the room is immediate, except for Vaska, who barely lifts a brow in response.
“Santo,” Vasilisa murmurs, a gentle admonishment in her voice as she places a hand softly against my chest. Her touch is light but grounding, a tether pulling me from the edge. I breathe her in, pressing my forehead into the crook of her neck.
The fire inside me cools into something quieter, softer. Her warm, familiar scent wraps around me, calming the beast clawing at my chest. As if sensing it, she adjusts against me, relaxing into my hold.
“Alright, let’s get this started,” I mutter against her skin, my voice softer. But as I shift my attention to the room, my tone sharpens once more. “I’m sure you’re all aware why we are here,” I begin, my voice echoing off the conference room walls. “It’s about Miroslav Popov and what we found from his estate.”
I glance at Vasilisa, wide-eyed with curiosity and worry. Without thinking, I grab a snack cake out of the inside of my breast pocket, open it, and hand it to her. Her once-worried eyes shift to excitement as she grabs it from my hand. The noise of the wrapper crinkling between her fingers fills the room, and it’s a welcome distraction from the heavy subject we’re about to discuss. She takes a small bite, carefully chewing as she waits for me to continue. I rub my thumb along her thigh absently, grounding myself in her presence.
“Vaska. Report.”
Beside me, Vaska spins his knife between his fingers, the blade flashing under the lights. Controlled. Precise. His calm, calculating gaze meets mine before he finally nods, rising to his feet.
“We pulled surveillance from the Popov’s estate, as ordered,” he begins, his tone sharp and to the point, the knife still moving as he speaks. “Luca and I found several instances of Arsen Sarkisian being on the property. Multiple visits. Multiple conversations.”
The second Sarkisian’s name leaves his mouth, the room shifts—a crack of tension snapping through the air. I feel Vasilisa tense against me, her fingers tightening around my arm, gripping like she needs an anchor. She knows what that means, even if the full details aren’t clear yet.
Vaska flips the knife once more, catching it cleanly by the handle—casual, practiced, like he already knows the answer before he even speaks. “The problem is, we don’t have audio of the meetings yet. The surveillance was cut, but there’s an underlay of audio we’re trying to extract now. It’ll take some time to pull the files, but once we do, we’ll know exactly what they were discussing.”
I nod, satisfied with the explanation but not entirely relieved. Sarkisian has been a ghost for years. Seeing him at Miroslav’s estate isn’t just business—it’s leverage. It’s secrets. It’s a ticking fucking time bomb.
“Work the audio. Find out exactly what was said. Fast.” My voice is ice. “Sarkisian isn’t someone we can afford to lose track of.”
Vaska nods, pocketing the knife as he sits back down, the tension in the room still thick, hanging over us like smoke.
Vasilisa crinkles the empty wrapper in her hand and shifts slightly on my lap, her eyes filled with concern. I can see the worry creeping in, her mind no doubt running through every possible scenario.
“Anything else we need to know?” My tone is brisk, I want this meeting to end and get Vasilisa back home.
“There’s one more thing,” Luca cuts in, his voice tight. His usual easy smirk is nowhere to be seen—just a grim set to his jaw, the weight of whatever he’s about to say pressing into his shoulders.
“The transfers of money,” Luca begins sliding over a document my way. “He transfers quarterly to an offshore account that is hisandmonthly to Sarkisian’s account, but one deposit twelve years ago was much larger than any other deposit.”
Twelve years ago. The same year my mother was murdered. The same year Sarkisian vanished. This isn’t a coincidence—it’s a link. One that chills me to the fucking bone. “Elaborate.”
“The deposit, it’s sizable,” Luca starts, wringing his hands together. “It’s not like an average business transaction. This amount is enough for a bribe… small war… ransom,” Luca shrugs and Vasilisa stiffens. I glance at her. She’s staring at the wall, unseeing, body trembling like she’s fighting against something rising inside her. I barely get the chance to speak before Nico cuts in.
Nico exhales sharply. “It’s almost as if he was buying something.” He pauses. Then, quieter, graver. “Or someone.”
Vasilisa’s breath hitches. Her eyes go wide. This is too much for her.
