Chapter 7 - The Gathering Storm
Dawn broke over Lake Michigan in a blaze of pale gold and bruised purple clouds.
I woke up tangled in expensive silk sheets in a massive king-sized bed that smelled faintly of sandalwood and coffee. Mikhail was already gone. The space beside me was empty, though the indentation in the pillow remained.
I sat up, pulling a heavy cashmere robe over my shoulders, and walked out into the vast, sunlit penthouse living room.
Mikhail was standing by the floor-to-ceiling glass wall, his back to me. He wore a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing the corded muscle of his forearms. He was speaking in rapid Russian into a secure satellite phone.
“...locate his campaign treasurer in Dupage County. I want every ledger, every offshore shell company, and every campaign contribution traced by noon,” he commanded into the device, before snapping it shut.
He turned around, catching sight of me standing by the kitchen archway. The hard, merciless edge in his eyes melted away instantly, replaced by a quiet, grounding warmth.
“Did you sleep?” he asked, walking over.
“About as well as someone whose diner was just turned into Swiss cheese,” I replied, though a small, involuntary smile tugged at the corner of my lips. I reached for the fresh cup of black coffee he had already poured and set on the counter for me. “Where’s Misha?”
“Eating pancakes with Elena in the media room,” Mikhail said, leaning back against the counter beside me. “He thinks you staying here is the best thing that has ever happened.”
“And his father?” I asked, raising an eyebrow over the rim of my mug.
Mikhail was silent for a moment. He reached out, his thumb gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “His father is preparing to end this. Today.”
“How?”
“Senator Sterling thinks he holds all the cards because he controls the city zoning board and the state police,” Mikhail said, his jaw tightening. “What he doesn't know is that my compliance team has spent the last three years quietly acquiring the underlying debt of every commercial property his family owns. By noon today, Senator Sterling is going to find out what it feels like to be completely broke.”
I stared at him, stunned. “You’re staging a corporate hostile takeover of a United States Senator?”
“I am protecting my family,” Mikhail corrected simply, his gray eyes locking onto mine with absolute finality.
Before I could reply, the secure wall-mounted monitor near the kitchen buzzed. Elena’s face appeared on the high-definition screen, her expression tight and urgent.
May you like
“Mr. Volkov,” Elena said crisply. “We have an unannounced visitor in the lobby. Senator Sterling himself. He bypassed security with local police support. He’s demanding an immediate audience.”
Mikhail’s eyes flashed with dark amusement. “Well, well. Speak of the devil.”
