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The energy in the room shifts as soon as she’s gone, and everyone enjoys their meals and drinks. Michael pulls out the chair and sits where Anya was only moments before.
“Will you actually pay for her time? Considering why we’re here, don’t the Ivanov siblings owe you?”
Picking up my glass of scotch, I hold it in my hand before I swish the dark liquid around contemplatively. It’s true. But by Anya’s response, I’m under the firm belief her brother might’ve left her in the dark about our dealings. Although a debt is to be paid, I can’t help but be intrigued by how Anya manages her own business. I wonder how she’ll squirm under pressure. I can’t really imagine it at all.
The Ivanovs are known in New York, and are deadly by themselves but also in who they’re associated with. I was given fair warning to tread lightly before stepping into town, especially around the siblings.
“We shall see. We aren’t in our territory right now, so until we know whose ground we are stomping on, we play nice.”
“If you say so.” Michael seems unsatisfied by my dismissal, but I don’t give a fuck. He has no say.
“I do, and what I say, goes,” I finish, ending the conversation.
He averts his gaze, and I lean toward Derrick. “Find out everything I need to know about Anya Ivanov.”
“I gave you quite a thorough portfolio of the siblings. Is there anything specific you’d like to know?” he asks. Derrick is my go-to man, and he excels in finding secrets and profiling individuals.
“Everything. Even down to how she likes her coffee made.”
Derrick seems surprised but nods. “I’ll work on it immediately.”
Good. Because, as of tonight, anything and everything to do with Anya Ivanov is now my business.
CHAPTER 3
Anya
One week after tolerating being in the same room as River for the first time, I’m sitting out front of one of my luxurious homes. I have several residences, all catering to different engagements and businesses. I’m particularly fond of this one since it hosts one of my favorite auctions.
Being in the underworld for as long as we have, almost nothing is off-limits. And every auction has a time and place. Like tonight, which has finally ended, the last of our patrons leave with items they couldn’t so easily acquire elsewhere to satisfy their tastes.
“Pleasure doing business with you,” Mr. Fox says with his man carrying a briefcase.
“We look forward to your continued business during the next auction,” I say without a smile. Because I don’t smile and will only offer minimal pleasantries.
His gaze roams down my body but only briefly. His complexion turns pale as Clay steps closer into my space and looms behind me. Mr. Fox all but runs down the stairs to his waiting car.
“I don’t need you to mark your territory,” I chastise him.
“My apologies,” he says.
I’m used to men like Mr. Fox. The thing they don’t realize is, I charge them an extra million as an increase to their membership for glances like the one he just bestowed on me.
I admire my brick mansion, which often reminds me of a home one might read about in a fairy tale. That’s what drew me to it at first. It was different from all the boring white homes in the nearby neighborhoods. And mostly, I enjoyed the large chimney and black roof tiling.
It was the first mansion Alek and I purchased before even buying our own personal homes. So it holds a special place in my dark heart. But without Alek here, it feels almost foreign and lonely to me now. A transactional place of business. It’s lost all the charm that I appreciated it for in the first place.
Kicking my heels off, I glance at the driveway to see a set of headlights coming my way.
Who the fuck is coming up my gated driveway? I remain standing on the porch as it gets closer. Vance walks out of the front entrance and leans over my shoulder.
“It’s River, miss. He was at the gate and said he had your money and didn’t plan to leave until you saw him. Shall I stay?”
My nose naturally points higher into the air. I thought I made it abundantly clear that I would only see him under my terms. And I still have no intention of giving him the time of day. It’s obvious this man is superbly stubborn or stupid and needs to be taught simple etiquette while on my turf.
“Leave.” I wave Vance off, unimpressed he let River through the gate in the first place. Clay, however, I allow to remain by my side.
The sleek black Porsche comes to a stop in front of the porch. The car door opens, and a black-booted foot meets the driveway, then its match does the same. It takes a second before he fully comes into view. He shuts the door and turns to look at me. His hair is dark, so dark that I wonder how he got such beautiful autumn eyes that are so opposite his hair. His face is tan, and his full lips open as he says my name.
