Slowly, Roman turned around.
He studied Vlad in silence.
Vlad’s eyes were darting all over the room. “My guess is he had outside help. Someone must have sneaked into the house, using the wedding as a distraction.”
Roman looked at the bead of sweat running down Vlad’s face. “The house was still guarded by twenty-three highly-trained, professional guards, men who are supposedly the best. But, somehow, they didn’t notice someone breaking in and taking my things from my bedroom. Explain that to me, Vlad.”
Vlad kept swallowing convulsively. “Looks like the work of a professional. Possibly it was the British SIS. They seemed suspicious of you.”
Roman hummed. “Possible,” he said and watched Vlad breathe out. “But unlikely. There’s a much likelier explanation, don’t you think?”
“I don’t understand,” Vlad said.
Grabbing his throat, Roman shoved him into the wall, Vlad’s head knocking against it with a thud. It looked painful. Roman didn’t care. “Why?” he said, rage making him see red. “Why did you do it?”
All pretense left Vlad’s face, his body sagging as though he were a rag-doll. “I…”
“Why?” Roman repeated, squeezing his throat tighter and watching him choke. Snapping a man’s neck wasn’t difficult. It had been years since he had been so tempted to do it.
“I did it for you,” Vlad managed to croak out. “I did the same thing you did when the brat started messing with my head—I removed him out of your reach. When you calm down, you’ll know I did the right thing! You’ve been irrational since you started fucking that little faggot! He’s nothing but trouble. You can get back at Whitford some other way. You know you can.”
“How dare you,” Roman said. “I’ve been too soft with you, Vlad. Enough is enough.” Tightening his grip further, he watched Vlad’s face turn gray. When Vlad started losing consciousness, Roman dropped him to the floor like a sack of potatoes.
“You know I don’t do well with betrayal,” Roman said, looking down at the gasping, coughing man. “I trusted you to do your job well. I trusted you to have my back, not stab me in the back.” He turned away.
“What are you going to do to me?” Vlad croaked out.
“Nothing,” Roman said. “You have fifteen minutes to get of my house. I’d better not hear from you again.”
“I’ve been loyal to you for fifteen years! Doesn’t that count for something?”
Roman paused. “It does. That’s the only reason you’re still alive. You know I don’t like it when my people start thinking they know better than me. They don’t.” And he stalked out of the room, anger and regret churning his insides and making his blood boil. Goddammit, Vlad. You fucking idiot.
Vlad was right about one thing: even without the boy, Roman could, and would, make Richard Whitford pay. The Englishman was ultimately the reason Roman had lost two men he had trusted with his life: first Michail, now Vlad.
Richard Whitford was certainly going to pay.
Soon.
PART II
Chapter 18
“Bloody hell!” Ryan yelled in frustration at the TV as Arsenal failed to score once again.
James Grayson hid his smile in Ryan’s shoulder. Unlike his boyfriend, he had no love for Arsenal, so their continued failure to score was pretty amusing to him. He knew better than to say it aloud though.
James’s smile faded when he caught sight of Luke sprawled on the other couch. “Sprawled” was probably the wrong word for the way his friend was seated: there was something stiff and unnatural about Luke’s posture. It wasn’t the first time James had noticed that about Luke ever since his return home. James couldn’t quite put a finger on it. It wasn’t that Luke seemed unhappy, per se. He didn’t. There was simply something off about him. Sometimes.
James chewed on his lip. He had thought offering Luke a job at his family company would take Luke’s mind off of what had happened to him. While it did seem to help—Luke was clearly happy to do what he was good at, and glad that he didn’t have to depend on his father—something was still off. Luke wasn’t the same. James wasn’t sure what to do about it. He had given Luke some space, not wanting to pressure him until he was ready to talk, but it had been three weeks since Luke’s return and Luke still laughed it off and evaded the topic completely. It was as if… as if something had happened to him while he was in Russia. Something Luke didn’t want to think or talk about.
James shivered and snuggled up closer to Ryan, breathing in his familiar scent.
Ryan turned his head. “Jamie?”
James pointed with his eyes toward Luke and whispered, “You see it, too, right?”
Ryan’s gaze shifted to Luke. He nodded.
“You think something happened to him while those people had him?” James said, careful to keep his voice low.
Ryan frowned. “Jamie, some criminals had him kidnapped for two months. It wasn’t exactly a holiday. It’s natural he seems a bit down.”