Page 50 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

Some things ought to be left alone.

10

NIKOLAI

It’s late when I hear footsteps in the hallway.

The afternoon got away from me the way it often does. There’s always something to be done. Arslan says I’m a workaholic, but even he doesn’t understand the pressure. He sees the back half of my work. The underground half.

But Zhukova Incorporated, as much as it’s a cover for the Bratva, is a business in and of itself. I have two sprawling organizations to run, not to mention the hotel and the bars and restaurants I’ve invested in. There’s no shortage of shit to do.

Heavy lies the head, as they say, or whatever the fuck.

When I look up, my eyes have to adjust. I haven’t needed to see any further than my desk for hours. The doorway is blurry for a second. But then I blink and it comes into focus.

Shecomes into focus.

Belle is standing in the doorway, her chest heaving. She’s still in the dress pants and button-down shirt she was in this morning, though they look more disheveled now.

And her eyes are filled with terror.

“She’s gone,” she rasps, clutching both sides of the doorway.

Her cheeks are flushed. She’s clearly upset and even though now is not the time to think about what she would feel like, warm and breathing heavily beneath me, the thought crosses my mind anyway.

“Who is gone?” I ask.

“Elise,” she whimpers. “I went back to the hotel, but she isn’t there.”

“For fuck’s sake. Didn’t you escort her back to the penthouse at—” I glance at the clock. “Eight hours ago.”

Damn. It’s been even longer than I thought.

She frowns. “How did you know about that?”

“I know everything.”

“Then tell me how to get her back!” she cries out.

“I don’t know where she is. Unlike last time, I’m not responsible for your sister’s disappearance.”

The line between her eyes eases and she chews on her lower lip. “I know. Shit, I know. I’m not here because—damn it! Why did she do this?”

She’s angry, but not with me. She’s angry with Elise. And with herself.

The only reason she’s here is because…

“You think I can help.” It isn’t really a question, because I already know the answer.

“Don’t be smug about it,” she grumbles.

I smirk anyway. “Do you have any idea where she may have gone?”

She holds up a piece of paper with the words “Ruby Room—BBL” scribbled in the center. Elise signed her name at the bottom.

“Okay,” I say, arching a brow. “Then I’m not sure why you need my help. Just go get her.”

“I tried,” she grits out. “I went to the nightclub, but they wouldn’t let me in. They let in a fourteen-year-old, which I loudly announced to everyone waiting outside, but they refused to let me in.”

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