Page 24 of Keep Me (Rebel Hearts Heists 2)
Kronin
Sloane
As I return to the table and take my seat, I try to concentrate on my mimosa, deep in thought about what just happened with Casper Van Der Beck. This is fucked up however I look at it: I mean, sure, go ahead, release the fucking video of me being fucked by Royce against a wall, who cares? The guys all know that I’ve been with all of them by now and it’s not like I have any friends left or my family has ever shown much concern about me anyway.
Ok, maybe I’m being unjust and with Pierce gone, I could reach out to them but really my parents have always been distant at best while I was growing up. If anyone could care about me, that would be Sasha but she doesn’t even know any of the guys, so Royce or Blaine or any of them doesn’t really matter. What would really phase her is just the fact that there’s a sex tape of me.
I don’t think that the asshole would have any gain from releasing it anyway, so I’m more than willing to call his bluff. Unless … unless the guys need an excuse to look in his room, in which case, I’d have a perfect way in, but we’d have to find a way for me to be able to get away, because there’s no way I’m having sex with Alicia’s future husband.
I meet Kaden’s eyes and I immediately think that no, the biggest danger isn’t Van Der Beck right now. The biggest danger is what the guys might do to him when they hear the disgusting terms of his attempt at blackmailing me. But I know that I have to tell them, in case the asshole decides to pursue this any further. I also don’t want any secrets between us, especially after Kaden’s secret almost destroyed us.
Us. I think, feeling warmth spread in my chest at the idea of my feelings for all the guys. They aren’t pressuring me to choose and they seem to have accepted the status quo, but I know that at some point I need to tell them how I feel. That I’m falling … Fuck, ok let’s be honest, that I’ve fallen for each of them and that letting even just one of them go, would break my heart in a million pieces. Because I know how it might sound totally crazy but each guy has my whole heart. It sounds impossible but that’s the reality.
The arrival of the waiter interrupts my musings, unfortunately it’s not our food that’s ready but he’s accompanying some other people who are here to join us for brunch. I look at the newcomers and immediately double take: is this dude for fucking real? I don’t even know where to start, really.
Two men approach our table and they would both definitely stand out in any crowd. They get introduced to us as Mr. Evgeny Kronin and his business associate Lagi. The Russian billionaire is not what I would expect when you say, ‘dangerous ex-soviet nuclear weapons trafficker’. I would place him more as an extra in one of the Pirates of the Caribbean franchises if it crossed over with Miami Ink. The man in front of me has bleach blond dreadlocks and piercings and tattoos everywhere. His intense blue eyes are lined with black kohl and his body is clad in what looks like a fifty grand suit but the clothes are at least two sizes too big on his tall but lanky frame. He’s standing as if his body is boneless and keeping himself upright is costing him the utmost effort. That expensive suit has its jacket sleeves folded over his tattooed forearms and rather than a classic, crisp button-down shirt, the guy is wearing a green Hawaiian shirt under it. A shirt that perfectly matches the one worn by the huge Samoan man at his side.
I immediately think that the larger man must be Kronin’s bodyguard by the way he unassumingly scans the patio with a falsely lazy gaze.
Casper Van Der Beck greets the new guests with enthusiasm, as if he were reuniting with long lost friends but that’s just what he wants the rest of the world to believe, because I see the nervous tension that has suddenly taken hold of his entire demeanor.
I store the information for future use: Van Der Beck is bossy and intimidating with those he judges beneath him but he completely changes attitude when he’s with people he fears. Yes, because the only word I can use to describe the emotion in Van Der Beck’s eyes isfear.
Which is odd because Kronin looks everything but dangerous, unless you look into his eyes for more than a few seconds. I shudder as we get formally introduced and our gazes meet: that dead, almost soulless stare reminds me of Pierce, so I immediately understand why Blaine’s future stepfather is suddenly on edge.
“????? ???????! (Very nice to meet you!)” The guy kisses the back of my hand in a surprisingly gallant gesture but then one of his hands shoots out to grab my chin in his grip and the tension at the table soars as all my guys tense up, no doubt ready to tear the newcomer limb from limb. Honestly, I’m tempted to hit him where the sun doesn’t shine, who the heck …
“You’re stunning! ???????! (Beautiful!) You absolutely must pose for my next work, my muse! ?????????? ???????! (Please, my dear!).” I’m fucking taken aback and shocked by the sudden physical contact, so I know I’m looking at Kronin with wide eyes, like the proverbial deer caught in headlights.
I haven’t always been this afraid of physical contact, it’s been this way since Pierce. Even with the guys at the beginning, any touch would make me feel on edge. But since Seattle, when I realized that the guys cared about me and would protect me rather than use me or exploit me, with them it has been different. I yearn for their touch right now, I crave it constantly and I just can’t get enough.
This though? This is making me ridiculously uncomfortable.
“What the—” Blaine is the first one to react, seconds from jumping off of his chair and yanking Kronin off of me but his future stepfather intervenes, explaining what the fuck is going on.
“Heed, boy! Evgeny is an artist. Actually, one of the most prominent modern artists of this century. This is how he made his fortune. And this is why he’s here: I’ve commissioned him to create a painting, a portrait of myself and my new bride, to be hung in our penthouse in the new resort I’m having built in the Maldives, that will make this hotel look like a hovel. It will have the place of honor on our mantle.”
Kronin intervenes, “But of course it will be my pleasure to give you the painting as a wedding gift, especially since you’ve commissioned several pieces to be displayed around the resort. We’re practically family, ??????? (comrad). I just hope that this beautiful creature will agree to be my model for the sculpture that you want as the center of your Bellagio style fountain. You could be a Greek goddess, ??????? (darling).”
Blaine quits glaring at his stepfather and asks, “Your mantle? Do you plan on spending a lot of time in the Maldives?” Van Der Beck smiles, as if he were planning to move one block away.
“Yes, Blaine. Your mother and I have decided to make the Maldives our permanent residence. I’m in the process of selling the Schiller Corporation. These resorts belong to a new venture, completely separate from the old company. After all the trouble your brother’s old man caused, the company was navigating in stormy waters anyway, so I decided that it was time to retire from the stressful world of international finance and become a modest hotel tycoon.”
I don’t miss the way Kaden looks at Royce: Van Der Beck is trying to get rid of the old company he embezzled from, after he managed to get Royce’s father to take the fall for his own crimes. And he’s moving to the Maldives, which is a red flag in itself: even I know that the island country has no extradition treaty with the United States. So, this can only mean that whatever dealings Van Der Beck has with Kronin, they will result in the need for him to disappear somewhere where the US government can’t bring him to justice for his crimes.
Kronin seems totally smitten with me and to be honest, he makes me even more nervous than Van Der Beck. While Alicia’s fiancé is a bully and looks dangerous, the Russian billionaire turned artist exudes a completely different type of danger. There’s something in his gaze that looks not just violent but unhinged and I know that look, I’ve stared into a similar gaze many times.
“So ??????? (darling), please tell me you’ll consider posing for me?” I open my mouth at a loss what to answer, because while I know that this could be another golden opportunity to find out what our enemies are planning, my instincts tell me to run as far away as possible from Evgeny Kronin.
“You don’t have to answer immediately, Sloane. I’m throwing a party for Casper and Alicia’s rehearsal dinner on my yacht tomorrow night—” Van Der Beck interrupts him. “I was making preparations for the rehearsal dinner on my yacht, I thought—”
Kronin’s voice loses its inspired, almost musical lilt, becoming suddenly cold and hard. His tone causes a shiver to work its way up my spine as the smile stays firmly in place on the Russian’s face. “Nonsense! One of the reasons why I accepted to come here to deliver my wedding present personally, is that other little side business we have going on.”
I almost don’t recognize my own voice when I ask him: “And what would that be?”
Kronin’s smile widens as he explains. “See ??????? (darling), I met Casper in Moscow at a lavish party thrown by one of my friends. It was … what do Americans call it when you show your new house to friends and they bring you presents?”
River speaks for the first time. “A house warming party?”
