Vladimira Glazov stood in front of the picture window in her study, sipping her afternoon tea and admiring, as she often did, the panoramic view of the lush, green lawn that surrounded the Glazov estate. But her thoughts were far, far away from this, her ancestral home in Mother Russia. Her mind was captivated by forbidden thoughts of a man. Forbidden, because Vladimira Glazov had devoted her life to Bratva and could ill afford such distractions.
She loved her life in Russia. In time, she had begun to enjoy overseeing relations with the key players in the mining operation for Glazov’s fledgling diamond business. Frankly, the bloodless lifestyle had taken some getting used to and stood in stark contrast to her usual, brutal brand of Bratva diplomacy.
Her poison ring glinted in the sunlight, seeming to mock the ease with which she had embraced her newfound civility. A delicate frown line formed between her brows as she considered this turn of events.
In the months since seeing Yafon again in Louisville, well, she had been more than a little distracted. They had long enjoyed a harmless flirtation and had nearly taken things farther a time or two, but she had fought their attraction and accepted the resulting heartache as being for the greater good.
She had long ago learned to ignore any yearning for a deeper connection. Such a relationship simply was not an option, not if she were to continue to serve in a position of Bratva leadership. She refused to be perceived as weak. Her brother had found happiness with his Ptichka without sacrificing his credibility, but it was altogether different for a man. As a woman in an unprecedented position of power, she had to be impervious to distractions.
Ah, but that magnificent man…
During her most recent visit to America for the Wedding to End All Weddings, things with Yafon had taken an unexpected and deliciously sexual turn. She had known something was different from the moment their eyes met as she stepped off the private jet. Usually the epitome of decorum, Yafon had made no effort to conceal his heated gaze as he tracked her every step as she approached the car. When she had attempted her usual, lighthearted, flirtatious greeting, his nostrils had flared and she could have sworn he growled at her.
And that pretty much set the tone for her stay in America, with Yafon’s predatory glare following her wherever she went. That is, until the night before the wedding. After a sumptuous dinner and countless toasts to the three happy couples, she retired to her suite of rooms only to find a barely restrained, incredibly aroused Yafon waiting for her. In the ensuing hours, he made it clear that their days of mere flirtation were over. Alternating between raw, brutal domination and breathtakingly tender lovemaking, Yafon had left her sated and exhausted. The festivities the next day had been torturous, with much remaining unsaid between them. When gunfire had erupted during the reception, Glazov had insisted that she return to Russia immediately, as originally planned, to look out for their business interests there. Boarding the plane had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done.
With a heavy sigh, she crossed her arms over her chest. She missed Yafon, and she had no idea what to do about it.
She wasn’t sure how her brother would feel about the two of them. He’d either be furious or pleased—no in between for that one. It was all or nothing, black or white…life or death. It always came down to that: who would live and who would die.
Russia was cold in the winter, brutally so. And, as much as she hated to admit it, she was getting older. She was hardly decrepit by any stretch of the imagination, and Yafon had more than proved that she was still in her sexual prime. She practically purred at the memory of how his demanding touch had left trails of fire along her skin. She brushed her finger through the silver streak of hair in her otherwise ebony tresses and thought about how aging and cold weather didn’t mix for anyone.
“Madam Glazov, please excuse the interruption, but your brother is on the phone.”
“Thank you, Anfisa, I’ll take it over here.” Vladimira crossed the room and stepped down into the sunken corner alcove where she often took her morning coffee. She lowered herself onto the loveseat, settling in for what would surely be an interesting conversation; conversations with her brother always were.
“Glazov,” she purred like the confident woman of means and power that she was, conveying a lifetime of adoration and deep love in that single word.
“I have a proposition for you.”
She smiled at his curt tone. No pleasantries for the Pakhan, he was all business, which was fine with her. “Mmm, sounds interesting. Tell me more.”
She wondered what was on his mind and what it would mean for her. All her life she’d been a femme fatale and she was rather good at it. She loved manipulating a victim, luring them into her web of deceit like the black widow she was. She toyed with them, of course, until she grew bored. Then it was a simple matter of emptying her ring of its poison into the drink or food she’d graciously provided only moments earlier.
“I’ve been thinking about the official launch of the jewelry line. It needs a certain something.”
“You’ll have to be more specific, you know,” she said with a coy smile that he didn’t need to see to know it was there.
“I’ve decided you will be the face of the jewelry business. As much as it pains me to admit it, dear sister, you’re classy.”
“So good of you to notice.”
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “Ostensibly, you’ll be running the retail side, but your true role will be behind the scenes, handling our relationship with our Russian diamond sources. You already know the key players so it’s a natural fit. And you’re an unknown in Louisville for the most part, so you’ll no doubt draw curious shoppers into the store.”
“So, they’ll tell two friends, then they’ll tell two friends…”
He chuckled because he knew he had her. “Something like that, yes.”
“What about Bazarnik?” she asked.
“I have other plans for him…plans for which he will be far better suited. There is a power vacuum in the Sinaloan cartel now; Bazarnik is going to help me fill it in a way that benefits all of us. But as for you -- of course, this will mean moving back to the States. You will hand off your current responsibilities and come here in a week. That should give you time to tie up any loose ends that require your attention.”
Vladimira grimaced and let out a frustrated sigh. The only loose end she was worried about was tall, bossy, lived in Louisville, and had a cock to die for...
Glazov took advantage of her silence for his parting shot. “I’m sure Yafon will be thrilled to have you nearby. Permanently.”
Vladimira’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t think you knew about our arrangement.”
“Arrangement, my ass. You two have been circling each other for years. I know things changed when you visited for the wedding, and it’s about time you two figure your shit out. Oh, and by the way? I know everything. I’m the fucking Pakhan, remember? Now get your ass back here. I’ll make arrangements for your flight. Plan on leaving a week from today.”
“Spoken like a true Pakhan—bossy and domineering.”
“It’s all I know.” His voice softened. “Sestra, I need you. Come home.”
“Well, since you asked so nicely…”
Her brother’s only answer was silence as he ended the call. In true Glazov fashion he’d said what he had to say. He wasn’t one to waste words and he didn’t like repeating himself.
Vladimira placed the phone on the coffee table, then curled up on the red velvet loveseat. She stayed there for a long while, looking around the room, absently running her fingertip back and forth along the soft fabric. She shook her head slowly, chuckling, “Well, Louisville, here I come. I hope you’re ready for me.”
Mind made up, she straightened. After all, there really was nothing to think about. Her brother needed her, so she would come. Simple. She would have to figure the rest of it out as she went along.
“Anfisa!”
The young woman only had to be summoned once and in seconds she was darting around the corner. She came to a halt in front of Vladimira, smiling expectantly. Vladimira really had struck gold with the young woman, despite the sad circumstances of their meeting. Several years earlier, Anfisa’s parents had died in an automobile accident. Left to fend for herself at only seventeen, her priest had referred her to Vladimira as a live-in housekeeper and she soon became indispensable.
Due to Anfisa’s golden blonde hair and baby blue eyes, no one would ever make the mistake of thinking they were related. Nevertheless, Vladimira looked on her as the daughter she’d never had. They worked smoothly together. Vladimira never had to repeat herself around Anfisa; in fact, she usually didn’t need to say a word because the girl anticipated her needs with little effort and near perfect accuracy. Anfisa’s allegiance was to Vladimira and, therefore, to the Glazov family.
Already certain of the response she would receive, and not wanting to focus on her own anxiety about the situation, Vladimira kept her tone casual, as if discussing the weather, when she announced, “Anfisa, we’re moving to America in a week. Would you like that?”
“I want to be where you are, ma’am. There’s nothing keeping me here. I would like to see America.” She wasn’t trying to get on the good side of her boss. No, the words came from her heart, with absolute sincerity.
Vladimira wasn’t a particularly tenderhearted woman, but she had become attached to the girl she’d rescued in her time of need. She smiled as she stood and crossed the room to stand by the window, saying over her shoulder, “Then it’s settled. We’re moving. I’ll take care of any paperwork you need, love. You just concentrate on getting us packed. The Pakhan will arrange everything so we’ll wait for word from him on the particulars.”
“Yes, ma’am.” As quickly as she had appeared she was gone. Anyone else would have missed it, but Vladimira had seen the spark of excitement in the girl’s eyes over the move. Or maybe she was simply happy to know that Vladimira would never leave her behind.
Becoming part of Vladimira’s inner circle wasn’t an easy task to accomplish. The young girl was honored to be included and her loyalty to Vladimira, and now the Glazov family, knew no bounds. Bratva was Anfisa’s family now and would be until the day she died.
Vladimira was intrigued by her brother’s plans for her to be the face of the diamond business while also having input on the import side of things. There were two segments in Glazov’s business model: The Firebird line, named after the Russian fable that had intrigued him for so many years; and the Jaded Jewels line, which featured synthetic diamonds, created by the best Russian scientists in the business. Glazov would accept nothing less than the best in all things.
To be chosen to be more deeply involved in the diamond business had been a surprise, but honestly, she had been wondering how Bazarnik could ever pull that one off. The mere idea amused her. Once again, Glazov had read the situation exactly right. The boy had no business interacting with people in a retail establishment. He needed to be doing what he did best: burning shit down and blowing shit up. Her brother had come up with the perfect win-win for everyone, as always.
She felt strangely apprehensive about seeing Yafon, and yet she couldn’t deny the heat that was thrumming in her veins at the prospect of touching him again. She had missed him even before she had stepped onto the plane after the wedding reception. During the ensuing months, the distance between them had ached like a phantom limb, the pain so intense that it would seep into her dreams and wake her up at night.
She wasn’t a woman who gave her heart away easily, but the night she had spent with Yafon had caused a seismic shift and she was still reeling months later.
Much like the poison she concealed in her ring, Yafon had entered her system undetected and she hadn’t understood his true impact until it was too late. However, she was a realist and accepted the limitations of their situation as a fact of life. Even the Pakhan couldn’t make an ocean and thousands of miles disappear.
Then again, maybe he just had.