Page 6 of Babies for the Boss
“Continue watching. If you hear anything about where he goes after his release, tell Igor immediately.”
Guy nods quickly. “Of course.”
I study him for another moment before adding, “And if you learn who helped him leave prison, that information becomes your highest priority.”
“I will see to it you are informed the moment I am.”
The conversation pauses again, though this silence is less tense than the one that followed his original announcement. The essential facts are on the table now. Vinogradov is coming back to the city, and that means the careful structure I have built over the past seven years may soon face a challenge.
Men like Vinogradov do not limit their attention to direct rivals. They look for leverage wherever it exists. Secretaries, accountants, assistants—anyone close enough to the center of power to be useful.
Molly is very close to that center. And far too visible.
I shift my attention back to Guy, forcing the thought away before it grows into something more complicated. “Is there anything else I should know?”
Guy clears his throat and shifts in the chair again, though this time the movement looks less like discomfort and more like careful preparation. “It may not mean anything, but when the paperwork for Vinogradov’s release moved through the system, a few other names appeared in the same channels.”
“What names?”
“People connected to his old organization,” he says. “Men who disappeared after the bombing. Some of them are active again.”
That is unfortunate.
When Vinogradov went to prison, his structure collapsed almost overnight. The men who had followed him scattered quickly, some leaving the city entirely while others tried to reinvent themselves under different leadership. Most of them understood that the world had moved on without them.
If they are resurfacing now, it means someone has been contacting them. Which means Vinogradov has been preparing for his return for longer than anyone realized.
I lean back slightly in my chair and let that possibility settle into place. A man rebuilding his network before he even leaves prison is not acting out of desperation. He is acting with a plan. With help on the outside.
“What kind of activity?”
“Meetings,” Guy says. “Small ones. Quiet ones.”
I consider the situation for a moment while Guy waits for my reaction. It’s not the first time an old rival has attempted to reenter the city after a long absence. Most of them discover quickly that the world they left behind no longer belongs to them. Still, memories have a way of motivating foolish decisions.
I study the skyline again for a moment, watching a ferry move slowly across the river. Seven years ago, Vinogradov’s explosion forced several powerful people in this city to pay attention to a conflict they would have preferred to ignore. That mistake cost him everything.
If he has learned anything during his time in prison, his return will be quieter. Which makes him more dangerous than before, and he was a thorn in my side back then. If he’s worse now…
Vinogradov’s return may not change the balance of power in this city, but it will create turbulence. Turbulence spreads outward, affecting everyone close enough to the center.
Everyone close enough to matter.
He will look for leverage when he arrives. Bratva returning from prison always do. They study their enemies for weaknesses—family members, trusted employees, anyone whose presence suggests an emotional attachment.
I have spent years making sure I do not possess such attachments.
Unfortunately, Molly Bennett has begun to test that discipline in ways I did not anticipate. Those tight pants. Her low-cut sweaters that showcase every bit of her ample cleavage. The damn dress she wore today, that I swear she wore only to test me. Strawberry blonde waves that would look perfect fanned out on my pillow. Warm brown eyes that practically glow withsweetness. It’s not only her body, though, that would be enough to garner my focus.
It’sher.
She’s quick to laugh or to put people at ease. She tap-dances through the day, managing every issue I throw her way. There’s no artifice to her. After three years of working for me, she hasn’t changed, hasn’t become embittered. She came with a sense of discretion—knows when to ask questions and when to shut the hell up.
In short, she’s perfect. That’s the problem.
I return my attention to Guy before the thought can develop further. “You will continue watching. If Vinogradov contacts anyone directly, or if his people begin making aggressive moves toward territory currently under my control, I want to know immediately.”
Guy nods quickly. “Of course.”
