Page 75 of Endless Obsession
Bradley raises an eyebrow, but says nothing for a moment. He tucks the paper away, then looks at me coolly across the table. “This is a good start, Kariyev. Next time we talk, I expect more.”
“More?” I glare at him. “I told you, I’m not in on the trafficking. Me helping you to get Sabrina out is only going to push me further out of it all, not closer. I’m not sure how much more I can get you, besides more of what I’ve already been doing. Movements, shipment times, that sort of thing.”
Bradley stands up, as if he hasn’t heard a word I’ve said. A heavy hand lands on my shoulder. “Figure it out, Kariyev,” is all he says. And then he’s striding towards the door, the chime of the bell letting me know he’s left.
I rest my head against the back of the seat, closing my eyes for a moment, colors swimming in the dark of my vision. Exhaustion sweeps over me, and for a minute, I just want to quit. All of it. I want to leave, and dare any of them to come after me. Even Charlotte, for that brief moment, isn’t enough to keep me here.
But they’d find me, eventually. If not my family, then the feds will. I can’t run far enough to get away from them, not forever, and I’m not willing to end up in one of their cages.
Which means continuing to play the game I dealt myself into, at least for now.
The worst part of the day is that I have somewhere I’m expected to be tonight. Somewhere where my family expects me to be, specifically, and just the thought makes my teeth grate. I want to see Charlotte, to talk to her, to be with her, but there are some family obligations that I can’t get out of.
Tonight is one of those.
My father is throwing a party on his yacht. I’ve been ordered to attend, and I suspect it’s so he can see the aftermath of his “lesson.” Lev called me with the “invitation” a few days ago, and made it clear that it wasn’t one I could decline.
A driver is waiting for me by the time I come downstairs. I got ready at my penthouse, suspecting my father would send a driver. I wonder, as I slide into the back, if he realizes how predictable he actually is. If he knows how easily I can anticipate what he’ll do next.
It doesn’t matter, I think grimly, smoothing my hands down the crisp fabric of my suit. I still haven’t been able to get away.
All three of my brothers are at the party. Lev is waiting for me on the dock, just as the yacht is getting ready to sail. My father’s excess is already on full display—nearly-naked women carrying drinks and trays with party drugs, billionaires in suits splayed out across couches, women in their laps, snorting lines, doing shots. Music pounds through the air, and I see my father on the far side of the deck, deep in conversation with someone as the yacht pulls away, heading out onto the water for the remainder of the night.
I’ve been to my father’s parties before. I’ve never minded the drugs and excess before this; I’ve even partaken in it. A high, a woman, a hit of a drug, or a moment of pleasure—all of that makes being around my family for the duration of something like this much more tolerable. But tonight, it all feels distasteful.
Charlotte has given me a taste of something different. Made me crave something different. And now, that something different is all that I want.
I cross the deck to where my father is standing, knowing he’ll want to see me. There’s no use putting off the inevitable. His stony gaze rakes over me, taking in the nearly healed wounds on my face, and he nods.
“Looking better,” he says, and I shrug.
“What can I say? I heal up nicely.”
“A good Bratva man knows how to take a punch as well as give one.” There’s something almost approving in his gaze, as if my ability to take his beating somehow raises me in his approval. The thought turns my stomach, and I have to fight to hide my distaste.
“Take that sour look off your face,” he says flatly, and I know I didn’t entirely succeed. “I invited you here tonight to let you know that you’re forgiven. You’ve paid your penance, you took your punishment. Now—enjoy.” He waves his hand, indicating the party spread out across the yacht. “And talk to Lev before you indulge too much,” he adds, his stony gaze holding mine for a moment without blinking. “He has something to tell you.”
I can’t fucking wait. “Will do,” I tell Dima in a clipped voice, turning away to walk across the deck. The night ahead of me feels interminable, especially since I have no interest in the drugs or the women on offer. I grab a shot of vodka off of a passing tray, tossing back the top-shelf alcohol and relishing the burn down my throat. I might get drunk. There’s no real harm in that, and it might be the only way that I manage to make the night tolerable.
I hear heavy footsteps behind me as I down another shot, and turn to see Lev standing there. “Shit. It’s you.” I grab another shot before the server can move on. “Otets told me to talk to you tonight, before the party went on too long.” I have no real desire to know what my brother has to say, but much like the conversation with my father, finding out is inevitable. I might as well get it over with.
The cold smile at the corners of Lev’s mouth gives me pause. He leans in, his hand on my arm, gripping it in an almost brotherly embrace as he speaks very close to my ear.
“We know about her, Ivan.”
The heat from the alcohol is replaced in an instant, by a cold hand squeezing my chest. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I manage, my voice remarkably smooth despite the fact that it feels as if a fist is wrapped around my heart. “Which her are you referring to? There’s been quite a few.”
Lev’s hand tightens on my arm. “Don’t play games, Ivan. Little Charlotte won’t last long if you do. I’ll take my time with her, if we have to use her against you, but I have a feeling she’s very breakable. And you know how I can lose patience sometimes, with my toys. That’s why you’re the better torturer, brother. I don’t have the finesse.”
My blood is ice, my head pounding. I want to kill him, my hands clenching into fists, and only the knowledge that to do so would certainly result in them taking Charlotte stops me. I take a step back, wresting myself out of his grip, and when I look at him, the expression on his face tells me that he’s not bluffing.
“You’re up to something, Ivan,” Lev says silkily. “Otets and I aren’t sure what, yet. But there’s something in that devious mind of yours, and we intend to make sure you continue using your talents for us. So remember, if you step out of line—” He smiles gleefully. “I’ll enjoy making you watch while I make an example of her. You can even critique my technique, if you like. I’m sure I could learn a lot.”
I want to get the fuck off of the yacht. I want to be as far from Lev, from my father, from my whole fucking family as possible. But I can’t, and I know that’s why they picked now to tell me this, to trap me here on the fucking ship in the middle of this hedonistic display, and remind me who I belong to.
What they will always take from me, if I try to grasp anything else for myself.
When the next server comes past with a tray of shots, I yank it out of his unsuspecting hands, carrying it with me as far from the party as I can get. Leaning against the railing, I down shot after shot, looking down at the dark water and blearily wondering if I could dive over and swim to shore.