Dmitri leans back, smirking. “Maybe because you’ve been making moves on Leonid’s daughter. People might read it as a Kozlov-Andreev rapprochement.”
“I’m not making moves on anyone.”
“This photo suggests otherwise.” He flicks the image. “Is that your hand under her dress, or am I hallucinating?”
I set the photo back down and fold my arms. “What’s your point?”
“Someone thinks a Kozlov-Andreev connection is worth logging.” Dmitri’s voice tightens. “Boris says threats against the Andreevs jumped this week. Three incidents. This reads like organized surveillance, not amateur posturing.”
“What kind of threats?” I ask.
“They name names. Attached photos. Leonid leaving his house at exact times. Whoever’s behind this has money and patience.”
I study the photo again. Mila’s face is clear. Anyone who sees will know who she is and exactly what we were doing.
“You think she’s in danger because of me,” I say.
“She might’ve been a target anyway, but your involvement turns up the heat.” Dmitri pulls something up on his screen and spins it toward me. “Boris ran a threat assessment. Three groups have motive to kill a Kozlov-Andreev deal. The Novikovs want Leonid’s territory. The Vasilievs are still sore over that shipping mess two years ago. And there’s a new player asking questions about both families.”
The screen flashes with surveillance shots, threat letters, and timelines. It’s clean, methodical work. Whoever did this wasn’t guessing; they were hunting.
I tighten my jaw. “How bad are we talking?”
“Bad enough that Boris wants extra security for anyone tied to alliance talks,” Dmitri says. “That includes Mila Andreeva.”
The idea of Mila being hunted because someone caught us together makes something violent coil tight inside me, and it’s bullshit. I barely know her. One night doesn’t buy that kind of fury. It doesn’t explain why I suddenly want blood.
But I can’t forget the heat of her body under mine, or the tremor in her breath when I touched her. The way she looked at me afterward, like she already belonged to me and hated herself for it.
“I’ll handle it,” I tell Dmitri.
“Handle what?”
“Security for the Andreev family,” I clarify. “Personal oversight until the threats are neutralized.”
My brother cocks an eyebrow. “That seems excessive for a woman you claim you’re not making moves on.”
“It’s not about her,” I insist. “It’s about protecting our interests. If someone’s targeting the Andreevs to prevent an alliance, we need to show we’re serious about supporting potential partners. Besides, Leonid’s shipping routes through the Baltic ports would be valuable regardless of any personal relationships that might or might not be present.”
The lie comes effortlessly because I’ve had years of practice hiding what I think and feel. But Dmitri knows me too well to be fooled.
“Coordinate with Boris on the security assessment and let me know what resources you need. But Alexei?” He waits until I make eye contact. “Be careful. The Andreev family is vulnerable right now. Desperate for protection, and Mila’s young enough to confuse… security with something a little more serious.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to hurt her.”
“I’m not worried about you hurting her intentionally. I’m worried about you offering protection she interprets as something more personal and then walking away when the situation resolves itself.”
“That won’t happen.”
“Make sure it doesn’t.”
I leave Dmitri’s office and call Boris. He picks up on the second ring.
“I need everything on the Andreev threats,” I say the second he answers.
“Give me twenty minutes. Usual place?”
“Don’t make me wait.”