Chapter One
Nothing good happens on a Tuesday.
My mother died on a Tuesday.
Years later, my father died on a Tuesday.
And four weeks ago, my brother died on a Tuesday.
“Lia?” A kind voice interrupts the silence of my office. It’s only lasted five minutes, the quiet, and now it’s gone.
“Good morning, Sarah.” I get up from my desk. I need more coffee. The two cups I’ve had so far haven’t put a dent in my exhaustion.
It’s only ten o’clock and I’ve already had to deal with a bed shortage at the halfway house, had a meeting with the counseling staff, and checked two of our clients into the full-time rehab facility we work closely with.
“I know you’re busy, but there’s an attorney out here who is demanding to see you.” She frowns. “He says he’s already left you several messages.”
I grimace.
Luther VanCroft. My brother’s estate attorney.
“Can you get him to make an appointment? I can meet with him later.” I slide my mug beneath the Keurig after popping in a fresh pod.
“I suggested that, but he said you’ve already missed two appointments.” She tilts her head a little to the left. “I don’t think he’s going away this time, Lia.”
I sigh. Putting off the reading of my brother’s will wasn’t intentional.
At first.
After the funeral, everything erupted around me. At first, I was glad for the distraction. I’d just lost my brother, leaving me the only person left of our little family. Having to navigate the funeral, the separate memorial services for him, and multiple social gatherings in his name left me drained.
I didn’t have time to process that he was really gone. My daily calendar is always full of meetings, emergencies, and events. The fact that every event in the past few weeks was in his honor didn’t really hit me. I’ve been on autopilot.
Even with our father having been gone for eight years, there were still plenty of his political associates that wanted to extend their condolences. There were two small memorial lunches for Lucas last week given by groups that helped keep my father firmly seated in his Alderman chair.
They’d held out hope that Lucas would follow in our father’s footsteps. Right up until the accident, they’d sought him out to seek political appointment.
“Lia. He’s not going to leave,” Sarah says when I remain quiet, trying to figure out a way to put this part off for a little bit longer.
Once he reads the will, there’s no more denying that Lucas is gone and never coming back.
Tears I’ve managed to hold at bay threaten, but I clear my throat and blink until they retreat.
“Fine. I’ll see him.” I dump the third spoonful of sugar into my coffee and stir in the creamer.
Luther has been my family’s attorney, or least one of their team, forever. He’s in his early seventies and probably should have retired years ago. The last time I had to deal with him directly was when my father died, eight years ago.
It was a short meeting. Dad left everything to Lucas, except a small bit he put aside in a trust fund for me when I turn twenty-five. Lucas had been named my guardian, as I’d been only sixteen at the time.
“Amelia.” Luther greets me as he walks in carrying his outdated, but still somewhat fashionable briefcase. “I’m glad you’re able to see me.”
I gesture to the chair in front of my desk as I sink into mine.
“I don’t have a lot of time; can we do this quick?” The sooner I can bury my head in the sand regarding all of this, the better my day will be.
He eyes me over the rim of his thick glasses as he gently places his briefcase on top of a pile of papers on my desk. “It shouldn’t take long.”
“Good.” I take a sip of my coffee. Ooh, a little too much sugar. I put the mug down again.
After closing his briefcase, he hands me a copy of the will and keeps a copy for himself as he leans back.
“Can you just summarize it for me?” I put the document on my desk after my eyes sweep over my brother’s name listed under the last will and testament heading.
He looks a little relieved at my request. “Yes, that’s fine.”
“Lia.” Caroline, one of the counselors, bursts into my office. Glancing at Luther, she winces. “Oh. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Is something wrong?”
“I have a probation officer on the phone demanding clinic notes. I’ve told him three times I can’t send them without a court order or a release from the client. But he’s insisting.”
“I assume there is no subpoena on file and the client hasn’t agreed to share clinical information?” I clarify.
“That’s right. I told him I can give him an update on if the guy has shown up for his sessions, which he has, but I can’t give him anything else without the other things.” She looks at my phone, a soft plea in her eyes.
I sigh. “What line?”
“Two. Thank you. I have a client waiting on me.” She wiggles her fingers at me with a big grin and hurries from the room.
“Sorry, Luther, one more minute.” I grab the call and deal with the probation officer who is more insistent than a man in his position should be. He knows the law as well as I do in this situation; he’s just trying to strong-arm us to avoid having to do the legwork to get it done the right way.
After I hang up, leaving him just as annoyed as he was when I took his call, I sink back into my chair.
Luther clears his throat, reminding me he’s still in my office, waiting for me.
“Sorry. Okay, let’s get it done.” I fold my hands on my desk and give him my undivided attention.
“Your brother made things very straightforward in regard to his estate,” Luther starts out. “As you know—”
“Lia. Shit. Sorry.” Ramon, one of our social workers, rushes into the room, cutting short when he sees Luther.
“It’s okay, what do you need?” I give Luther an apologetic smile.
“Sherman, the fifty-year-old you found a bed for this morning?” Ramon shakes his head. “He’s being transported back here. The shelter had some mix-up and there’s no bed for him. I tried calling Julia, but she’s got nothing.”
I hang my head and take a deep breath. That bed had been nearly impossible to get in the first place.
Sherman doesn’t need rehab services, just somewhere to sleep and shower while he finds his footing again.
“All right.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, willing my brain to find a solution here. “I’ll pull a favor. One sec.”
They both watch me as I make a quick call to a shelter up north. It’s an hour’s drive away, and outside the city limits, but that might be just what he needs. A day or two away from all the bars and clubs calling his name at night.
“There.” I hang up my phone and scribble the address on a piece of paper for Ramon. “Call the bus and let them know to take Sherman there. They won’t have an actual bed for him until this afternoon, but he’ll just have to make do. He can stay there for three days; that’s their limit for emergencies. If he wants a more permanent solution, he needs to be assigned a caseworker there.”
Ramon glances at the address. “This isn’t even in the city.”
“Right.” I nod. “That’s why it’s a last resort. They can get him set up with a social worker, job training, and a more permanent housing solution. It’s that or nowhere, Ramon.”
He nods. “He’s going to hate it, but I think it’ll be good for him. The city drags him down.”
We’ve worked on and off with Sherman over the last three years since we’ve opened the doors to the Moreau Community Center. He’s a good guy, and he tries, but he’s definitely one of our more needy clients.
“I’ll call it in. Thanks, Lia.” Ramon takes the address and leaves the office.
“Sorry about that.” I smile back at Luther.
“You’re busy around here.” He tries to give a sympathetic smile, but I can see the tension behind it.
“Unfortunately, there are a lot of people struggling with mental illness and drug abuse in this city. Actually, everywhere, but I can only handle one area at a time.” The tiny section of the city that we service overloads us most weeks.
We’ll help anyone who walks through our doors, but most of our clients are from this neighborhood.
“I’ve always admired the work you’ve done with the foundation your brother helped you set up.” His eyes warm a little. “Which is partly why I’m here; there’s something in the estate that needs to be addressed right away because it affects the foundation and more directly the center.”
Now he has my attention.
“Oh? I assumed everything would roll to me? I mean, I’m sure Lucas has left a good amount to a bunch of charities he liked to donate to, but the foundation shouldn’t be given away.” My stomach clenches.
Lucas knew how important the center was; he wouldn’t have given it away.
“Oh, good. Sarah said you had the attorney here.” Christian Sendell, the third member of the board of trustees for Moreau Foundation, waltzes into my office. Christian roomed with Lucas in college, and they’d stayed close friends.
So when we made the move to start Moreau Foundation, and we needed a third member for the board, he’d been an obvious choice.
For the most part, he stays out of the way. A third name on the papers for legal purposes.
“Christian. I didn’t realize you were coming by today?”
“It’s April, Lia. Our quarterly meeting.” He shifts his coat to his other arm and digs into his suit jacket for his phone that’s ringing. Without a glance at the screen, he declines the call.
“I’d forgotten about it.” I blink a few times. “I mean, without Lucas…” My voice trails off and I take a deep breath.
“Yes, well, like I was saying, you do need a third member. And your brother has named the person to take his seat,” Luther continues, his expression tightening with the addition to our meeting.
“He can do that?” Christian asks, stepping closer to us. “I thought we’d be able to replace him on our own.”
I pull back a little. Replace him?
“I just mean we’d find someone to be the third member,” he says when he notices my expression.
“If I could just get through all of this, it will all make sense.” Luther spreads his hands out over the will still sitting on his lap.
“All right.” Leaving my desk, I shut the door and press my back to it. “Go on, Luther.”
He takes a deep breath. “All right. Thank you.” He turns slightly in his chair so he can see both me and Christian. “Lucas has indeed left nearly everything to you, Amelia. All of his properties, his cars, the bank accounts, and your trust fund, which is still closed until your twenty-fifth birthday.”
I nod. “All right.”
“But.” He pauses, as though he needs a moment to gather his strength.
The doctor did the same thing at the hospital when he was getting ready to tell me Lucas hadn’t pulled through surgery. That they’d done everything they could, but he’d suffered too much internal damage in the car crash for them to repair. He’d passed away in the operating room.
“Luther. You’re scaring me, what else could there be?” I push off the door.
“Technically, the entirety of the estate goes to you, Amelia, but in order to collect the inheritance and keep the foundation alive, which would keep the center open, you have to—”
“Lia, there’s a delivery out back. They need a signature.” Carey, the front desk reception lead, hits me with the door when she opens it. “Shit. Sorry.”
I blink a few times. His last words were drowned out by Carey’s arrival.
“Hold on, Carey.” I put a hand up and step toward Luther again. “Say that last bit again. What do I have to do?”
He swallows hard, like having said it the first time was hard enough, and he didn’t want to do it again.
“You have to marry. Specifically, you must marry Dmitri Dragunov.”
[divider]Chapter Two
Dmitri
“You look tired,” I comment on my cousin’s appearance as Nikolai pours himself a drink from the bar in my office. “Being a father has worn on you.”
“It’s exhausting, but worth it.” A content smile touches his lips just before he pours two fingers of whiskey past them.
I only shake my head a little as I lean into my chair.
“I got a call from Roman this morning.” Nikolai takes the seat across from me. “It seems Yogi Kozlov is trying to make a move into New York.”
“The Kozlovs? They were sent back to Russia with their tails tucked between their legs, I thought. After what you told me what happened with Roman’s wife.”
Nikolai nods. “Yes, at first, they did. But it seems since my father has gone into retirement, Yogi thinks he can fuck around. His brother was the smart one of that family, and he’s gone now.” After what he did with Roman’s wife, he’s lucky there’s any Kozlovs left to be so stupid.
“Ah.” I steeple my hands. “Are they here in the States already, or on their way?”
“They have feelers out right now. I just wanted to make sure you knew about it. They won’t go to Boston, but these assholes think they can try for this city.” A darkness comes over his expression. “After what they tried to do to Roman’s wife, they’ve got some fucking nerve.”
I tense at the word ‘wife.’ It won’t be long now before I have one of those, too.
“They can’t be stupid enough to make a move here in the city. We have a large presence here; they’d be taken out the moment they showed face. Are you sure your information is solid?”
He frowns. “I am. I don’t want them in this city.”
I give a hard nod. “Agreed. If they try to set up here, or anywhere on the East Coast, we’ll burn them to the ground.”
No one touches what’s ours.
“I heard another rumor.” Nikolai smiles. “Arman told me, and I said he has to be wrong. No way this is true.”
He leans forward toward me, with the same playful tone as when we were young boys teasing each other.
“What gossip have you and your brother been whispering about on the playground?” I fist my hands in my lap, already knowing what’s coming.
I’ve only spoken to Arman about the situation I now face. He no doubt blabbed to his brother.
“You’re going to be married?” A chuckle escapes with the question.
“Did he explain everything or just that part?” I ask.
He laughs. “Oh, he told me the rest. You’re inheriting a wife that comes with a lucrative real estate empire. I mean, it makes sense, right. It will give you even more legitimacy here than the club.”
I drum my fingers on the top of my desk. Velvet Tower isn’t some dance club where early twenty-somethings come to get drunk and find someone to roll around the sheets with for the night. It’s the most elite multi-floor club in New York.
The first floor has a nightclub feel to it, with the most popular DJs from all over the world making appearances. The second floor requires a buy-in of ten thousand dollars to be given a tray of chips for a spot at the tables in our casino. The most elite of the floors is the third floor. VIP suites are rented out with extreme discretion.
We follow every state and city law. All zoning licenses, liquor licenses, and any other fee or license is kept up to date. There are no reasons for the government to put their eyes on this place.
Which makes it a good spot to hold meetings, such as the one I’m having with my cousin to discuss other business.
“It’s a business arrangement,” I explain, not that I have to. Marriage is inevitable, or so I’ve been told countless times. Marry, have children. No point in building the empire if there’s no one to oversee it once I’m gone.
My father passing away last year put a ticking timer on my mother’s patience for me to ‘take care of business.’
“Have I met the girl?” Nikolai asks.
“No.” My jaw tenses. Girl? Amelia is young, yes, but she’s all woman. Forced to grow up much faster than most, she’s done an impressive job at such a young age.
“I remember her brother. Lucas was a good man.” His tone turns somber.
“He was,” I agree. “We made a lot of money together.”
Nikolai’s brow arches. “Money? Haven’t you been working with the man for something like fifteen years?”
“I did. Yeah.” I shrug.
“And Charlotte says I can be cold.” He laughs. “What do you know about his sister?”
“Not much.” That I’m willing to tell him anyway. The last time I saw Amelia other than Lucas’ funeral, she was twenty years old and angry as hell at Lucas for making a boy she wanted to date turn her down.
Lucas had been right to get involved. The man in that situation wasn’t worth the dog shit on the pavement. Just because he came from money didn’t mean he had anything of value to offer.
She’d ignored me in the office entirely while ranting at him to stay out of her personal life. With her cheeks flushed red and her hands had fisted at her sides, I waited—impatiently—for her to stomp her foot at him.
She wanted to, I could tell, but she managed to tamp down the urge.
I remember being disappointed.
“Didn’t you talk with her at the funeral?” Nikolai prods.
“No. She had a lot to deal with and she hadn’t been told about the arrangement yet.” So instead, I watched her from across the service.
She hadn’t cried. At least not while I was watching her. She kept her back straight, her shoulder rolled back, and her chin thrusted forward as though she were enduring a battle instead of mourning her older brother.
“When are you meeting with her? I assume she’s been told by now.” Nikolai rolls his shoulders back, stretching.
“The attorney was supposed to meet with her yesterday, but I haven’t followed up with him yet.”
His eyes widened. “I don’t understand you, cousin. So, are you going to marry this woman or let her off the hook?”
“Let her off the hook? Why would I do that?” I shake my head a little. “I have to get married eventually, and this arrangement comes with business opportunities.”
“You really are a cold bastard, aren’t you?” Nikolai sighs.
Before I can answer my cousin, the door to my office flies open, bouncing off the wall from the force.
Amelia Moreau barges into my office with her hazel eyes ablaze and her cheeks bright red. From frustration or the slight chill outside, I’m not sure.
Nikolai jumps to his feet and spins to face her.
She takes one look at him, narrows her eyes, then moves on to me.
“You’re Dmitri.” It’s an accusation.
“I am.” I nod slowly, still sitting in my chair. Her fluster, the wild eyes, the windblown chestnut hair, and that clenched jaw have me intrigued.
And hard.
My reaction must not be what she was expecting. With my admission, she seems to relax. Her shoulders drop and she takes a slow breath.
“This is my cousin, Nikolai Romanov. We were in the middle of a meeting.”
She swallows, looks back at Nikolai.
“Nikolai, this is Amelia Moreau. My fiancée.” I keep my eyes on her when I make the claim, and she doesn’t disappoint. Irritation floods her expression.
Her nostrils flare and her cheeks redden another shade.
“No. I’m not.” She sweeps her heated gaze to my cousin, immediately softening. “I mean, I am Amelia, but I’m not his fiancée.”
“Dammit. I told her to wait.” Oleg hurries into the office, his breath short. “I was dealing with a delivery when she rushed in, I told her to wait, but…” He swipes a hand through the air in her general direction.
He needs to start working out if chasing a young girl up a flight of steps to my office has him so winded. My office is on the second floor of Velvet Tower with a private entrance into the casino from the back.
“It’s fine.” I wave him off. “She’s to be let up whenever she’s here, Oleg. Let the others know. Amelia Moreau.”
I stand, bringing my eyes to meet hers.
“Well, at least for a little while longer. It will be Dragunov by the end of the month.”
She pinches her lips together and drags a long breath into her lungs.
“Stop saying things like that,” she demands and she has that look about her again. She wants to stomp her foot at me.
And just like before, she denies me the pleasure of watching her temper tantrum.
It’s for the best, I suppose. If she were to behave so poorly, I’d have to do something about it. I won’t have her being a brat when she doesn’t get her way, especially in front of my cousin. Or anyone for that matter.
“Saying things like what? The truth?”
She shakes her head. “It’s not the truth. I’m not marrying you.”
Amelia draws herself up, rolling her shoulders back. Visibly she calms.
“Let me start again.” She looks to Nikolai. “I’m sorry if I interrupted a meeting.”
“Not at all. We were finished.” He grabs his jacket from where he draped it over the back of the chair and looks to me. “Charlotte is filling in at the deli today.”
“So, you need to go watch her work?” I cock an eyebrow. His obsession with his wife—the same as all three of my cousins—makes no sense to me. A wife is a necessity in our world, but to put his entire life on rotation around her has no logical sense to it.
“No. I need to make sure she’s letting her staff do their jobs and isn’t overworking herself.” He folds his jacket over his arm.
On his way to the door, he stands in front of Amelia, blocking my view of her.
“It was nice to meet you, Amelia. I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other.”
She huffs. “Thanks, but that’s really unlikely.”
Nikolai shoots me a look of amusement after he’s passed her and she can’t see him anymore. As he shuts the door, I can already hear him laughing.
“You’ve met with your attorney finally.” I make my way around my desk toward her.
“I did.” She jerks her head in a single nod.
“Good. Then all we need to do is discuss the details.” It’s better to have a simple understanding at the beginning.
“Details?” She tilts her head like I’ve said something she didn’t understand. A beeping sound comes from her purse, and she scrambles to unzip the bag and grab the phone.
I watch as she hits the call button and answers it, turning her back to me as she does.
“I’ve already sent over the appointment history… Then he’ll need to wait until I get back… I don’t care if he has a subpoena, he’ll need to wait until I get back and can review it.”
While she’s arguing with her phone, I move to the front of my desk and lean back against it. Her tone is firm, steady. While I can see the annoyance in her body language, she’s keeping it out of her voice.
“Yes.” She cranes her neck to see me and her frown deepens. “I’ll be done here shortly then I’ll head right over. Thirty minutes, I think.”
After another short conversation regarding legal documents, she hangs up and takes another calming breath. When she turns all the way back to me, she’s steady again. Her shoulders are rolled back, her chin thrust forward as before.
“I don’t have time for a long discussion. I’m not sure what happened or why my brother lost his mind before he put that stupid stipulation in his will.”
“The last time I saw Lucas he was very much his usual self.” I fold my arms over my chest.
The inheritance clause in his will was a little surprising. For many reasons, but at the moment none of it matters. I want to see her blush again, and the more annoyed she gets, the redder her cheeks become.
She huffs. “I don’t even know why Lucas would know you, at least not closely. Why would he even think that someone like you—”
“Someone like me?” I cock my head to the side. “What does that mean exactly?” I thicken my accent as I question her. “Is it because I’m Russian? I was born there, but I have lived in this country for many years now.”
“What? No.” She shakes her head. “I mean a man of your… well, what you do.”
“I own this club,” I answer, enjoying the way her eyes widen.
Her lips are nearly white as she pinches them together while eyeballing me. She’s unsure how to deal with me.
“I understand Lucas had some sort of business with you. I’m not sure what it was exactly, but we can sort it out later. You have to see how insane it is for my brother to arrange a marriage on my behalf.”
A ghost of a smile touches her lips as she waits for me to agree with her.
Except I don’t. “It happens all the time, arranged marriages.”
“It’s barbaric.” The hint of a smile is gone, and a fierce, hardened expression replaces it.
Before I can answer, her phone rings again. Her annoyance switches from me to the screen, but she accepts the call. Once again, her back is to me and she’s muttering into the phone.
I approach her, taking in the soft smell of lilacs as I get closer to her and reach for her cell phone.
“Sarah, I’ll be back as soon as I—” Her words cut off as I slip the phone from her grasp. She spins around, mouth dropped open in shock and fire burning even brighter in her eyes.
I put the phone to my ear.
“Sarah, Amelia will return to the office within the hour. She’s unavailable until then.” I end the call without waiting for an acknowledgment.
“You took my phone.” The words are barely above a whisper as she stares at the device cradled in my palm.
“I did.”
“Give it back.”
“Not until we get a few things straight, moyo dikoye plamya.”
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