A server walked in rolling a cart of silver covered platters. His attire was a pristinely pressed black suit and a burgundy-colored bowtie. He pushed the cart to the table, dipping his head politely as he placed one of the plates in front of me. He lifted the cover, presenting a plate of pierogi that were still steaming. I breathed in the scent of the dough and sighed happily, feeling like home was surrounding me once again.
My stomach growled, breaking the moment and I dipped my head shyly.
“Eat up, angel. I don’t want to see a bite left on your plate when you’re done,” he said. There was a distinct threatening undertone to his words, but it wasn’t explicit. In fact, it felt good. Many of the men I’d encountered growing up often scolded a woman for eating too much. I had a feeling that was never going to be a problem with James.
The server placed another plate on the table and James squeezed my shoulder before sitting down. The server poured him a glass of wine and uncovered what looked to be the juiciest piece of steak I’d ever seen. Even the pan-seared vegetables beside it looked truly decadent.
The flavorful aromas were mouthwatering. Hesitantly, I reached for my fork and peered at the pierogi in front of me. They couldn’t possibly taste as good as they looked. I used the fork to cut one in half, allowing a little bit of the steam out. The potatoes looked like they were seasoned well, and the cheese was melting onto the plate. Far too quickly, I scooped up a bite and pressed it between my lips.
Damn.
It was absolutely as tasty as it looked. The flavors oozed over my tongue, instantly bringing me back home with a single mouthful.
“Is it good?” he asked.
“Who made this? Are they Polish?” I asked.
“I have a three Michelin star chef in my kitchen. He can make anything I ask him to,” he answered.
“Is he American?” I asked, more in disbelief than anything else.
“Italian, actually. He used to serve the Montagna family, but I pay him a higher salary so now he works for me,” he replied. I didn’t know a whole lot about the criminal organizations here in the States, but I did know that the Montagna name meant something. When he didn’t give any more details, I flicked my gaze up to him. His smile was calculated, which only confirmed everything I was thinking.
James Monroe was a far more dangerous man than he appeared to be.
I still had doubts that he could hold up against a man like my father though, especially when coming after me was a source of not only revenge, but pride. I had insulted the family and that would demand a price in blood.
He cut a piece of steak and popped it into his mouth. Chewing thoughtfully, he studied me, and I fidgeted a bit before distracting myself with another pierogi and a sip of wine. As soon as the food hit my tongue, I moaned with enjoyment and a smirk appeared at the corners of his lips.
“Your father has held his position as kingpin for much of your life, hasn’t he?” he asked.
“Yes. Ever since I can remember, he’s commanded people.”
“And you?”
“My mother protected me from the worst of him, but even she couldn’t shield me from it all.”
“My people are currently gathering as much information about him as they can, but only so much of it is recorded. I need as much as you can give me. What is his typical schedule? Does he keep a routine? Who are his allies? His enemies?”
“Piotrek Poplawski is…” I paused, trying to figure out some way to adequately describe his kind of evil and consistently coming up short. Instead, I just started to list what he was involved in. “He runs large scale car theft rings, traffics weapons and drugs, and extorts anyone who happens to get on his bad side. He engages in kidnapping and human trafficking without a care in the world for who lives and who dies, as long as it makes him money in the end. To that end, I’ve only seen him nod in respect to Mikhas Volkov.”
“The most powerful kingpin in all of Russia,” James finished for me.
“Yes. They are longtime allies by way of marriage before they were born.”
“Enemies?”
“There are several groups out of Armenia that would be ecstatic to hear that my father lost his head. I don’t know their last names, but one went by the name Armin. While Piotrek has made many enemies in the past, he’s made a point to kill them first before they can return the favor.”
James sat back, the look on his face pensive. Knowing all that information, he still radiated sheer confidence. He wasn’t even remotely afraid, and I was left feeling that he should be at least a little.
“I need you to trust me, angel. I will keep you safe. No one takes a step on this property without me knowing.”
I wanted to do as he said, but I knew better.
“He will come for me,” I warned.
“He will die trying. If he even touches you, I will kill him myself.”