Fractured Ties by Bethany-Kris Page 0,33

wasn’t really necessary. It was a matter of semantics—respect, and nothing more. Vadim had known Kolya was on the property from the moment he’d pulled up, and definitely had eyes on him right then, considering the camera positioned right above the arch of the doorway.

The door stayed closed. Given it was six inches thick of pure steel, and with walls just as thick and well-insulated, there wasn’t a peep coming out of the office.

“A meeting?” Kolya asked the unknown man.

The guy nodded.

Nothing else.

All right.

Stepping back, Kolya leaned against the wall, and waited whatever was happening behind closed doors out. Vadim had been specific about the time he wanted Kolya to show up, so the meeting had to be important for him to change plans.

Vadim didn’t change plans.

Not if he could help it.

It was another ten minutes before the heavy office door was opened, and out stepped a man Kolya certainly hadn’t expected to see. Even if Kolya didn’t know his name, his scarred face was well-known in Chicago, and a fair warning to anyone who thought to cross him.

Or his family.

Idriz Gashi.

Brother to the boss of the Albanian mob, and second in command. The thick, discolored scar that ran down the left side of his face was a grisly sight, but Idriz rarely acted like he noticed it at all. Kolya couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t seen that scar on the man, either, but then again … he didn’t particularly know him all that well.

And he didn’t know why the fuck he was here.

Vadim was a lot of things.

Moody.

Difficult.

Territorial.

The last one was most prominent when it came to his father. It could be considered a virtue as much as it was a fucking flaw, really.

Vadim had his rules—the Compound was theirs, and he didn’t tend to do a lot of business with other organizations inside its walls. Sure, they fulfilled business deals here, but they didn’t typically make them here, as well.

Idriz allowed the door to close behind him without as much as a look over his shoulder, and glanced quickly at the man still standing at his post.

“Tomor.”

The … solider, guard … whatever the fuck he was, gave Idriz a nod.

“I’ll be going,” Idriz said.

The other man replied in a language Kolya couldn’t understand, and the two moved in the same time to leave. It was only then that Idriz caught sight of Kolya leaning against the far wall. In his dark, three-piece suit and towering at over six feet in height, it wasn’t surprising to Kolya that a great deal of people found this man to be intimidating.

The stories of the Gashi brothers were widely spread and well-known. Likely much to their pleasure, as there was always a bit of truth to every rumor. Every man wanted his disposition and demands clear before he ever entered a room.

Less bloodshed that way.

Vicious and volatile, people said. The Gashis were not to be crossed. Blood debts.

A lot like the Boykovs.

Kolya suspected it was all true.

He still wasn’t bothered or concerned by Idriz, even as the Albanian’s gaze lingered on him for a beat in time as though he were sizing him up. Just as quickly, Idriz nodded at Kolya without as much as a greeting and strolled down the hall with his man on his heels.

It was only when Kolya couldn’t hear echoing footsteps that he crossed the space, and knocked on his father’s office again, even though Vadim could have just used his fucking speaker to allow his son entrance. He didn’t bother to wait for his father to grant him access to the office, instead just opened the door and walked on in.

Vadim sat behind his large oak desk with his back to Kolya and a phone pressed to his ear. In the corner, his father’s right-hand man, Grisha, overlooked papers in a file and didn’t even glance up at Kolya’s entrance.

“I will see what we can do to try and make that happen, Vasily,” Vadim said, still turned around in his chair, “but I make no promises, comrade.”

Kolya cleared his throat, but his father only lifted a single hand in response as if to shush him from saying or asking anything else.

“It’s the best I can do,” Vadim said after a beat of silence. “I’m sure you’ll come up with a suitable counteroffer, no? I’ll wait for it.”

Vadim said nothing else as he turned in his chair—giving Kolya the perfect view of his father’s annoyed expression—before he pressed a button on the phone’s base and