Dark Intentions

Dimitri

I stare out the large window as I swirl the golden liquid around the cut-glass tumbler before knocking it back in one gulp.

I savour the burn and it eases my conscience for what I’m about to do next. My father would have no qualms about what I’m about to do, but I am not my father.

A loud knock on the door rouses me from my musings. The time for recriminations will come later.

“Come,” I growl.

The door opens and Maxim steps through the door. My brother. He’s like a younger version of me. Dark hair, brown eyes and a chiselled jaw. Except he doesn’t carry my scars, and he wears his hair a little longer.

His broad physique makes everything look small, including the solid mahogany door he just stepped through.

“Everything is ready,” he hesitates, “are you sure about this?”

I narrow my eyes. He may be my brother, but even he knows better than to question my decisions.

“Are you questioning me, Maxim?”

He quickly shakes his head and drops his gaze.

“No, of course not… It’s just we’ve never been involved in the skin trade…”

He glances up, scanning my face for a split second.

“and this girl…” he continues.

“This girl,” I growl, “is the only thing of value to that mudak. If he chooses to disrespect me, then he will learn his lesson the hard way. Besides, if Patrick O'Neill pays me what he owes me, then he’ll get his daughter back unharmed.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

I brush past Maxim as I head out the door.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

As we head to the cars, my driver, Pavel, opens the door. I slide across the seat and Maxim joins me.

“Security?” I question.

“Already dealt with. His men have no loyalty, except for the paycheck they receive, which isn’t much for what he expects of them.”

I roll my eyes.

Not only does the idiot think he can cross me, but he doesn’t even prepare for the retribution that is about to descend on him and his family.

We approach a large house that is set back from the road. Large double wrought-iron gates, which would normally be closed at this time of night, stand wide open.

No guard or any type of security can be seen as we drive through.

I know from my intel that this idiot barely has any security to speak of. He should have known better. You don’t double cross the Vasilyev Bratva, and get into bed with the Venucci mafia without paying the price. Tonight that price will be his daughter, and likely his deal with Giancarlo Venucci.

Without his daughter, that deal will be dead in the water. I doubt that Venucci will be very happy either. That thought in itself makes me smile.

I nod my head in acknowledgement. Even though I know Maxim disagrees with what I’m about to do, I know my brother will follow my orders without question. Or at least that’s how it will appear to the others.

I’ve only brought a dozen men with me tonight. That is just for insurance, in case any of O’Neill’s security decides to stay behind and play the hero.

I also arranged for the phone lines to be disabled, just in case O'Neill has installed a panic button or tries to call the cops.

Not that it would do him much good. I have most of the cops in the city on my payroll.

The cars pull to a halt near the side entrance. Two of my men are already there. They stand by the door, which leads into the kitchen. One of them silently pushes it open.

It's late, but I can see a light on towards the back of the house on the second floor.

“According to the house plan, that’s O’Neill’s bedroom,” Maxim confirms.

I slide my fingers into a pair of black leather gloves. I have no intention of touching anything, but you can never be too careful.

I walk through the kitchen and into a large hallway. A staircase curves its way up to the first floor.

It’s a sumptuous residence. I’ll give O’Neill that.

I shake my head. Why is this mudak borrowing money from me when he has a place like this?

Maxim can tell what I’m thinking. He raises his eyebrows as he looks around.

The paintings themselves must be worth what he owes me, and more. Unless they’re fake, of course.

With a man like Patrick O’Neill, nothing would surprise me. After all, if my intel is correct, he’s literally selling his daughter to Giancarlo Venucci. Just so he can get a stake in his construction company.

For the wedding to take place, he’s going to have to pay for it, the father of the bride and all that. That’s not what I lent him the money for, and he knows it. It was a business investment, Which I'm yet to see a return from. He’ll have to find some other way to fund his nefarious plan because, as of right now, I'm calling in the loan… with interest.

My footsteps echo loudly as I walk across the marble floor. The time for being quiet is over. I don’t care if he knows I’m here. He’ll find that out soon enough. I take the stairs two at a time. Maxim follows closely behind me.

Light seeps through the bottom of a large set of double doors, and I waste no time in throwing them open.

As I enter the room, I draw my gun. The woman lying in bed next to Patrick O’Neill screams. I assume that this is Mrs O’Neill. I point my gun straight at her.

“I suggest you tell your wife to shut the fuck up unless you want your lovely flock wallpaper pebble-dashed with her brains,” I growl.

There’s a whimper and a light thud as the delightful Mrs O’Neill collapses in a faint.

Good. That’s one less problem to deal with.

“Wh... What are you doing here? What do you want?”

O’Neill squeals like a little girl, and all the colour drains from his face.

I point the gun at him this time.

“I’ve come for my money.”

He swallows nervously and shakes his head.

“It’s not due… I don’t have it.”

I take a couple of steps closer to the bed and lean towards him threateningly.

“I know you don’t because you’ve fucking used it to payroll your daughter’s wedding, and I didn’t even get a fucking invite.”

O’Neill shuffles back a little further in the bed until his back hits the headboard. He grimaces, the fucking weakling. He’ll be more than grimacing when I’m done with him.

“How much is he paying you, Patrick? Your new friend. How much is your daughter worth? Two hundred? Three hundred grand? Must be more because you owe me five hundred.”

He shakes his head.

“It’s not like that…”

“Like fuck it isn’t,” I hiss.

I take another step towards him so that I’m standing at the edge of the bed. The barrel of my gun touches his forehead.

“HOW. MUCH?”

I’m not sure what disturbs him most, my raised voice or the cold steel of the gun pressing against his flesh. Whichever, I don’t really care as long as I get an answer.

“Twenty-five percent,” he whispers.

He can’t hide the tremor in his voice.

“Twenty-five percent of what?”

He swallows nervously.

“Venucci construction. Ten percent once they’re married and another fifteen once she gives him an heir. A male heir.”

I shake my head in disbelief. Not only is this fucker selling his daughter to Giancarlo Venucci, but he’s making money from his first grandchild. He can’t be that much of a fool. He must know what he’s selling his daughter into. I may not be a saint, but Venucci is ten times worse, especially in the bedroom if rumours are to be believed.

I’ve dealt with some of Venucci’s seedier business acquaintances. I know what they get up to behind closed doors. I also know that they trade in skin. If O’Neill's daughter doesn’t give him what he wants, then he’ll likely sell her to one of his clients. He may do that anyway once he has an heir.

I glance over my shoulder at Maxim.

I shove my gun into my waistband.

“Send Yuri to fetch the girl,” I snarl.

O'Neill sits a little straighter, suddenly feeling brave now he doesn’t have the cold hard steel of my gun pressed against his forehead.

“You… You can’t. Phoenix is my only child. She’s innocent. Leave her out of this.”

I suppress the need to reach for my gun once again, but he’s right. The girl is innocent. There’s no need to frighten her more than she needs to be.

“She may be, but you’re not. You didn’t have any qualms about her being your only child when you sold her to that Italian son of a bitch.”

He folds his arms across his chest.

“It's none of your goddamn business who my daughter marries,” he snaps.

All the restraint leaves me and I pull my gun and point it straight at him.

“I made it my business when you started making alliances with my enemy. If you don’t have the money to pay me what you owe, then I’ll take some insurance until you do.”

He buries his head in his hands.

“She’s supposed to be getting married in three days. What the hell am I going to tell Venucci?”

I chuckle.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

The laughter fades from my lips as I hear the sound of crying getting closer. I quickly shove my gun back inside my waistband.

When Yuri enters the room, he has a girl, who I assume to be Phoenix O’Neill, tossed over his shoulder. Her wrists are fastened together with cable ties and a bruise is already beginning to form on her cheek. Blood trickles from a cut on her lip.

“What the hell happened? What took you so long?”

Yuri sneers.

“The door to her room was locked. When I broke it open, she tried to attack me, so I had to restrain her.”

He smirks and tosses her to the floor.

“She won’t do that again in a hurry.”

Phoenix scrambles to her knees and lets out another sob when she sees the unconscious form of her mother before her.

The sight of her on her knees causes my cock to twitch in my pants.

I can see why Venucci would want her in his bed.

Her fiery Red hair falls in ringlets around her shoulders, and her green eyes glisten with tears. She’s barely wearing anything, just a few scraps of silk which barely cover her. I can already see how red her skin is through the silk panties. I guess Yuri gave her a spanking, too. A hint of jealousy blossoms in my chest. If anyone is going to punish this little bird, it’s going to be me.

“Momma?”

She tries to scramble towards the bed, but I intercept her, wrapping my arm around her slender waist and pulling her into my chest.

“Easy there, little bird.”

My lips touch the shell of her ear as I speak.

She tries to pull her head away, but I’m not having that. With one arm still holding her close, I wrap my other hand around her delicate throat. Squeezing gently with enough pressure for this to be a warning without causing serious harm. If I wanted to, I could squeeze the life right out of her.

“Tsk tsk,” I whisper.

“Did Yuri not teach you some manners back there?”

A whimper escapes her lips as she stills.

“Please, Dimitri. Don’t hurt her,” O’Neill begs,

I glare at him.

“Then get me my money. One million should suffice.”

His eyes go wide with horror.

“I only borrowed five hundred thousand…”

I remove my hand from Phoenix’s throat and gently brush the trickle of blood from her lip with my thumb.

"Such a pretty face... It would be a shame if something were to happen to it, don't you think, O'Neill?"

"Please, Dimitri. Be reasonable."

“I am being reasonable, Patrick. If I wasn't you'd be dead already. You should have read the small print in the contract you signed. If at any point I feel my money isn’t being used in the best interests of the business, then I can immediately claim the full amount back with interest and penalties to be decided by me.”

I stroke Phoenix's cheek.

"And what a pretty penalty she is."

O’Neill closes his eyes and shakes his head. They say a fool and their money is easily parted and O’Neill is surely a fool.

“Please, Dimitri. Phoenix is my only child, my daughter."

For the first time, I’m unsure if this is an act or if he really cares for his daughter. Surely he must know what sort of man Giancarlo Venucci is?

“You have three days. Three days to get me my money. If I don't get my money by then, there will be no wedding and you'll never see your daughter again.”

“Daddy… Please…” Phoenix whimpers.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll sort something out.”

I don’t fail to notice the tremor in his voice.

Patrick O’Neill is all out of options.

The wedding has already been paid for and he probably doesn’t dare tell Venucci that his bride is going to be missing. Phoenix was part of his deal, and reneging on a deal with the Venucci family can only end one way. That's usually with a pair of concrete boots. Losing his pretty little bride is sure to piss him off, especially when he finds out that O’Neill had a business deal with me.

I lean my head towards Phoenix’s ear once again.

“Just behave little bird, and this will be over before you know it.”

I release my grip on her waist and rest my hand on her bare shoulders as I guide her towards the door.