Kostya: A Dark Mafia Romance (Zinon Bratva) by Nicole Fox (open ebook .TXT) 📗

or whatever this is with her, I should be able to do what I need to do without taking time to let my balls drop.

“You’ll have to excuse us for a minute. I need to speak to Charlotte.” I use the tone that tells them I’m not making a request. Lila looks at Charlotte—her fear is almost as present as my anger. Charlotte just stares at me.

“Come.”

I wish I would’ve picked any other word in the dictionary to say to her right then because the memory of the last time I told her to come for me is still too fresh in my memory. It’s the last thing I need right now.

She walks beside me into the downstairs media room, and I close the door, locking me inside with her perfume, those damn eyes, and a body I might never be able to forget. If she knew what I used this soundproof room for once upon a time, she would never have accompanied me inside. Thank God for steam cleaning and housekeepers who know how to keep their mouths shut.

I close the door behind us and stare at her. Maybe I should’ve crossed my arms. Or said something before she turns and throws herself at me, sobbing into my chest. “I thought you were dead.”

Another lie. “You thought I killed your mother.” I push her away. “And I should. I would, if she was anyone else.” Goddammit. Why the fuck would I tell her that? Anger churns in my gut. “I want those letters back.”

She nods. “I put it in the drawer a while back. As far as I know, she only had one.”

But we both know that doesn’t mean her mother won’t go to the authorities. I can’t afford any kind of scrutiny, no matter how minor. Things are delicate with the Whelan war raging in the background.

“How did you know about them?”

The details aren’t really important, but my curiosity is insistent on this one. Those letters were in my private office, a room off-limits to even the housekeepers.

“The night my mother watched Tiana, the night we were at the Baltzley, she must’ve … I don’t know, actually. I didn’t even know there were any letters until she told me, and I didn’t think to ask about how she found them.” She’s looking at me now. Staring. Maybe trying to figure out what she should say to save her mother.

Good. I want the fear. It’ll keep Charlotte alive.

I nod.

“You’re fired, Charlotte.”

Not because I don’t believe her. I don’t, but that isn’t why.

I’m firing her because she’s more distraction than I can allow myself. A hundred times I’ve said I should kill her mother and a hundred times I haven’t done it. Charlotte is my weakness and there’s no way I can keep her around to be the chink in my armor, the spot my enemies will pinpoint and use as their target. I also can’t let her know it’s why.

“What? I didn’t do this, Kostya.”

She let her mother into my house. Let her mother snoop through my things. Let her mother blackmail me.

“Yes, you did, Charlotte, and even if you didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. You get to walk out of my house with your life and your mother’s life. It’s all I can or will give you.” She covers her mouth with her hand and blinks rapidly as if she’s trying to hold back tears. “You should take that kindness and go.”

I can’t look at her now, so I make a production of rubbing my hands together as if the friction of that move is enough to keep me grounded in this moment and dispel the sadness I know is in her eyes. The sadness I can’t bear to see right now.

“What about Tiana?” Her voice is harsh. “She needs a mother. Someone to rock her and play with her while you’re out …”

Oh, she wants to say more, to throw in my face that she knows about my business, but wisely, she doesn’t. It’s a slight I wouldn’t be able to forgive. “While I’m out.” I smile, but I’m not enjoying this. As a matter of fact, I want it to end. Now. “The thing you have to understand, Charlotte, is that you’re replaceable. There’s nothing you did here for Tiana”—and now to add the final nail—“or for me that I can’t pay someone else to do.”

Her almost-silent gasp is the only reaction I earn and thank God for that. Because her tears are about to undo all the resolve I have left in me for this. I’m a strong man, but the woman I love has betrayed me, and now I’m hurting her.

She turns and flings the door open then turns back for one parting shot. “You fucking bastard.”

I admire her courage. I’ve killed for less.

17

Charlotte

When Lila and I walk out of the house, I don’t appreciate the fact that Kostya had the foresight to have my car brought around. I don’t appreciate him at all.

Instead, I’m crying. Angry. The warm breeze does nothing to calm the chills spreading over my skin, to soothe the furious beat of my heart.

Lila is already standing by my car with a suitcase I presume to be hers at first, but I take another step and hang my head when I realize that it’s actually mine. He’s had my suitcase packed. This isn’t something spur of the moment that I’ll be able to undo. This is premeditated. I should’ve known. Kostya isn’t a spontaneous or impulsive man. Every word, every act is considered, weighed, thought out.

So jettisoning me is something he’s already decided on.

I kick the suitcase, then shove it into my back seat. I want to scream, to stomp my feet, to give into the genetic predisposition towards hysterics passed down by my mother, but I’m better than that. Even if I can’t stop the tears.

Lila snatches my keys and shoves me around the front of the car. I don’t even bother with the protest.

He had the car