with myself, but upon closer examination of this picture, I see that no, that smile, her grace, they’re genuine. Nothing about this photo would indicate she’s there against her own will.
I’ve been out for three days, and that’s all it took for her to slip back into her role of doting fiancée.
“At least she’s alive,” I say after what feels like several minutes of silence, tossing the phone back to Saint.
“Yes, this is true. But you need to get better so you can move into your new house. We have much to discuss.”
Arching a brow, I look at Pavel in confusion.
“Santo emailed through the paperwork. The million-dollar mansion which once belonged to Denka Orlov is now yours. With Serg dead, the world is looking for a leader…and that leader is you.”
This was what I wanted. I fought so hard for my old life to be returned to me, but none of it matters without Ella.
Why does she look happy? She’s not that good of an actress. Her happiness isn’t staged. She’s pleased to be on the arm of Frank once again. And what about Santo? Is she pleased to be with him?
“I’m going to kill them…kill them all,” I growl with murderous rage.
“I know you will, but we need a plan. Going up against Santo is unlike anything we’ve done before. The Italian mafia is a whole different demographic. And let’s not forget about Raul.”
“They bleed just like everyone else,” I spit, uninterested in Pavel’s voice of reason.
“Before this happens, you need allies and money, and you need your reputation back. For this to work, you’ll need to be the Aleksei Popov people remembered. You cannot be weak. If you show any weakness, it’ll be exploited. Just as it’s been in the past. You need for it to be believable.”
Saint leans forward. “In other words, you need to be the ruthless son of a bitch you once were before you found your conscience. Can you do that?”
I’m worlds apart from who I once was, but they’re right. Santo and Raul are the enemies—powerful enemies—and if I don’t kill them, they’ll kill me. It’s survival of the fittest.
I thought I once ruled with an iron fist, but that was nothing compared to now. Back then, I had nothing worth fighting for, but now, everything is at stake. I’ll be callous and calculated because that’s what the people expect of the kingpin of Russia, which is who I am now.
With fire burning through my veins, I nod. “Yes. That will not be a problem. You do realize for that to happen, I’ll need to return to my old habits?”
Saint’s jaw clenches. “I know.”
I understand his reservations, for a leader must have a flock, and there is only one sensible choice. A woman who has been broken before.
Willow.
“I do not want Willow to be subjected to this,” I say, meaning every word. “But she can reassure the others. I will not punish them. They can have their own areas of the house. They’re merely for show.”
The rocking chair sways backward and forward violently as Saint rises abruptly. “She’s the only one who can make this decision. I won’t decide for her.”
We both know what she’ll decide.
“I’ll do it.” Willow stands in the doorway with a fresh jug of water in her hands. She’s clearly overheard what we just said.
Saint turns to her, his eyes pained. He knows what this means. She’ll be on “display” whenever we’re needed to showcase our social standing. The thought turns my stomach.
“It’ll only be until we get Ella back,” I assure both her and Saint. But that doesn’t change a thing.
Willow will be expected to act as a submissive, and Saint will have to allow it for this to work.
“Santo is unaware of our past,” I state, “which means he won’t know he’s being played.”
“But your old inner circle does know of your past,” Pavel says, reminding me that we have to tread with caution.
They know of Willow and my affection for her, which is dangerous. If they sense a hint of betrayal, it’ll end badly for us all.
“They know of my affection for both Saint and Willow,” I affirm, thinking this over. “They also know I can be very convincing when I want to be.”
Saint scoffs, crossing his arms. “You mean, they know how people seem to fall at your feet, regardless of knowing your past?”
“That too,” I reply, trying not to sound conceited. “We can play the angle that I needed my righthand man back after