Page 30 of The Enemy Protector
And I know I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her alive.
Even if she never knows it was me.
“Get me that meeting with Yuri,” I say without turning around. “Tomorrow if possible.”
“Done. Want me to check with the Italians? See what they know?”
I think about it. “I don’t want to let on we know anything.”
“I could call your brother. His network could do the asking.”
“No. Don’t call any of them. Not yet. This isn’t their problem. I’m handling it.”
I hear Kirill leave. The door closes quietly behind him.
I pour myself another drink and make a silent vow.
I've already decided how this ends for Yuri. I'm just being patient.
I tell myself I want her in that seat because she's easier to work with than Yuri. A hostile takeover by a man who would burn half of it consolidating his position is risky. Strategically, keeping Sofia alive and in play has value.
That's what I tell myself standing in the quiet office. She is leverage. A chess piece I'm protecting because I may need to move it. Nothing more than that.
9
Sofia
I stare at the envelope on my desk like it’s wired to blow.
Viktor brought it up himself, which means it’s real. He wouldn’t put it in my hands otherwise.
Inside is a single card with an address, a time, and a name I know.
Sergei Sokolov.
Everyone in my world knows that name. He’s the pakhan who controls more of this city than the mayor does. His operation is vast, efficient, and absolutely untouchable. My father has always spoken of him with respect edged in caution.
I know the other families feel the same about him. Sergei Sokolov is not a man people underestimate twice. He will be someone I have to deal with when I publicly take over the family.
May as well get it over with.
I run through the possibilities. This could be a trap. Then again, if Sergei Sokolov wanted me dead, I’d already be dead. Men like him don’t need elaborate schemes.
I’m going.
I dress carefully in dark jeans, ankle boots with a heel I can run in, a black sweater fitted enough to look polished but loose enough to hide the knife strapped to my ribs. My lipstick goes in my front pocket. I pull my hair into a sleek ponytail.
Gregor argues with me for ten minutes about the meeting.
“You do not go to a second location with Sergei Sokolov,” he says.
“I’m going.”
“Then I’m coming with you.”
“He said to come alone.”
“He can say whatever he wants.”
