Page 11 of The Tsar's Obsession
I wouldn’t text him back. I wouldn’t entertain this, no matter how many times I picked up the phone and reread the texts.
5
Worth It
Kirill
Cigarettesmokecurledthroughthe air, thick and heavy, wrapping around the leather seats like a fog. Yuri rolled down his window and coughed a few times before glancing at me in the rearview mirror. He didn’t have to say it. I already knew he disapproved.
He was old enough to be my father, and I would have taken him—any day—over my real father, who broke my family apart the way alcohol broke him down. But I wasn’t broken; I would never succumb to that disease. I was at the top, in my prime, my whole world shifting and molding itself to fit my needs.
“How long do you want to stay here?” Yuri asked, diligently keeping his eyes on Mia’s building.
In a way, Yuri was my father throughout my life. Years ago, he worked for Spetznaz, actively recruiting young, fearless risk-takers like me. When I was seventeen, he tried convincing me to join and serve my country instead of the Bratva. He’d failed, and I picked a life of crime.
I’d seen Yuri snap a man’s neck and not even blink; he was a ruthless killing machine. So, when he retired from serving The Motherland, the decision to work for me was a no-brainer.
Yuri had a son who he lost in The Second Chechen War. I’dseen his photos and recognized the resemblance; we looked somewhat similar. Over the years, Yuri and I had grown closer, and the dynamic was undeniable—he became the father figure I so longed to have in my life, and I took the place of his son. We let each other have that. He protected me with his life, and I treated him and his family well, financing his wife in Russia.
Our lives were intertwined in more ways than one; it wasn’t just work. His nephew was my best friend and my second in command back in Moscow.
Yuri understood me. He had known about my obsession for longer than anyone, and he was dedicated to seeing this thing with Mia work out.
“I want to see where she goes at the end of the day,” I responded, but I knew her schedule well. I had a suspicion, and I was praying I was wrong.
The cigarette burned dangerously close to my skin. I would sometimes do that, just to feel the burn. I had to stop smoking; I was too stressed. After seeing Mia two days in a row, I must have smoked a pack, something that hadn’t happened in years.
The image of Ari bursting through her office intruded into my thoughts once more. And planting the idea that Polina and I were together in Mia’s mind! What other swill was he whispering into her ear?
My phone rang at this moment and interrupted all my anger, but I kept my eyes on the lobby of her building, unsure of what I was waiting for.
“So? Did you collect?” I spoke in between puffing out smoke clouds, making Yuri cough again. He never smoked.
“No.” Dmitry delivered the word I never wanted to hear. “He’s refusing. Still playing the same game. I’ll pay him a visit.”
My right-hand man had been both cautious since coming here and unnaturally brutal. Like he was trying to assert his dominance once more. There was nothing to prove anymore; we were already at the top. We had killed and maimed so many men that our reputations preceded us wherever we went. But that was inRussia. Here, we were just rich ‘investors’, and I had an inkling that Dmitry didn’t like that. He wanted to establish undeniable power, to show off, and to scare others. But that wasn’t the name of the game anymore.
“Don’t get involved personally,” I advised, urging him to keep his hands clean. Dmitry was itching to take out his aggression on this particular real estate developer.
Ever since we met when we were just little boys, Dmitry defaulted to violence, playing with his prey. We had similar backgrounds—broken families. His parents were alcoholics, and my father ripped our family apart. We’d bonded over our trauma.
But I was never as heartless as him. I was angry and hardworking. I was calculating and didn’t display too much empathy, but Dmitry was on another level. He was a pillager, and I always had to pull him back from the brink of no return.
“Call Vova. Just send a message. We’re in New York now…we’re civil.” I chuckled, knowing exactly the kind of civility that existed on this side of the ocean. None. Just like back home.
“Done.” Dmitry’s light response ended the conversation just in time for my suspicions to be proven correct. There, exiting the doors of the building, were Mia and Aritogether.Mia swung her little bag over her shoulder, her long, shiny hair reflecting the sun as she climbed into a town car. Helping her in was Ari—a man soon to be dead.
Thatgrin. That hand on the small of her back. That look of satisfaction and control. Should I have shot through his skull right in her office? Why wasn’t she telling him to fuck off? Easy. I’d make the decision for her.
“Go after them.” The words left my lips before I could think them over, and without missing a beat, Yuri was already pulling out of the parking spot.
What the fuck was I doing? Following her? Like a real fucking stalker? Never mind that I was aware of her every move for almost a decade. I never personally watched her until today.Twenty minutes later, I diligently observed them walk into another building together.
“Yura?” I called out while I stubbed out another cigarette. “You’ll take care of him?”
“Of course,Kirill Pavlovich,” Yuri chuckled darkly. “Of course.” We didn’t need to exchange many words. His use of my patronymic name—which I hated—was his way of showing respect, assuring me the job would be done without problems.
My next few days passed in a lovesick state of dysregulation. This was unlike me. I was always in control. I was organized, meticulous, and demanding, but God knows my whole personality melted when I laid my eyes on Mia again. My hunger for her, for her presence, was distracting me from all my issues. And there were plenty.
