eloquence

"I don't want to fuckin' hear it. Don't say a word, da?"

"Something strong. With gin, please."

Here she was again.

None of the memories from the previous fights were particularly pleasant—quite the opposite, actually. In truth, had the prospect of staying home not promised a slow unraveling of her nerves—tormented by thoughts of what might unfold, of who Konstantin might be paired with—Lyudmila would’ve happily withheld her presence from the club’s opulent chaos.

But tonight, the lesser of two evils had prevailed.

A martini was pressed into her hand, crystalline and cold, just as her temporary bodyguard—filling in while Nadya took the night off to prep for her fight—stepped up, clearly reacting to someone’s arrival like a guard dog catching a scent.

“God, you’re already giving me a headache. This is a bar, not a battlefield,” Lyudmila muttered, irritated. She didn’t even lift her gaze, merely waved a languid hand, as though brushing away smoke, to let whoever it was come closer.

"If I die," which...was possible. "Make sure Vika gets everything, keep an eye on Isla and for the love of god -- someone check on Aviv every now and then." he said with a dramatic sigh, ankle hooking over his knee. "Any tips, bud?"

"If that's how the rest of them are going to be then Lara's losing her touch."

She had expected more of a bang from the first ever match-up of women but it had turned into more of a fuck-fest instead of either one getting fucked up.

Bored already, Viktoriya leaned against the bar. "I'm not sure alcohol will be enough tonight."

She sighed audibly as Misha spoke. While most of her unease was lifted, there was still a pit in the bottom of her stomach and it could be seen in her eyes and the way that she bit the inside of her cheek.

"If you felt the need to prepare this much security for Dima and I, then I feel as if there had to be a reason. And as you just confirmed, it's partially because of Kensington."

A known French hub struck down by a litany of gunfire, all of which had been produced by the weapons he'd more than easily handed over to Aviv and the rest without question. The other factions wouldn't hesitate to point the finger where it so rightfully belonged and while he could water down the truth for his wife, it didn't suspend the reality of what was coming. Nor how prepared he intended to be for the fallout.

"The reason is that people in this city are irrational and prone to anger based on assumption," his voice was calm and even, as if they were discussing benign weekend plans. "I won't have you in harm's way as a result. This is only temporary until London simmers down again, I promise."

Does this have anything to do with what happened to your father?

The question appeared between them seemingly out of nowhere and caught Mikhail at an uncharacteristic loss. He stilled. "What do you mean?"

The Russian expected him to be meticulous with her work, the same way she would expect any client to do so. Each location outlined was detailed where security should be focused on, exits and entrances kept to a minimal; retaining the two of them bound with family. "Off the record." Nadya would expect nothing less than him to come at every angle to make sure it met his standards. "From a personal standpoint, no, because I would give my life to protect them. And nothing would be good enough." And she meant that. "From a professional, we could add more, but I don't want her to feel suffocated. The three I chose, I vetted personally, their credentials exceed what is expected, which I know their skill set will bring some ease. They are willing to meet with you." A pause. "Give them a week, and if you don't feel confident they can do their job, I can help them find a couple more." Though she was confident in her selection.

"Are you fucking serious. Everywhere I go, you fuckers are crawlin' around like we've got an ant infestation."

"I thought I'd give you a little preview." It wasn’t official yet, but after the last meeting, Maksim was pretty confident this space was his. He’d never had anything truly his own before, and as he surveyed the room that he prayed would be his upcoming salvation from the rut he'd found himself in recently — even with that thought on his mind, he couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

What the fuck would he call the place?

With arms spread wide, he walked through the open floor, a grin lighting his face. "So, what do you think?" His mind was already shaping the place—gritty, raw, a dive bar with live rock music. No frills, no gloss, just the kind of place you lose yourself in. It wouldn't be like Vorya: and not because he wanted to keep his balls intact. Yes, the man was terrified of his sister, and rightly so.

"I’m thinking the stage over there, and the bar over to the right." He moved through the space as if he already had the keys in his hand.

And soon, he would. Maksim could be persuasive when the time called for it.

Pushing off the wall, hands clasped in front of himself, he listened to the idealized plans with faint amusement. It was an intriguing idea truth be told, but since when had the younger of the pair ever allowed the other man to walk away unscathed? Not tonight and certainly not ever before.

After Nadya's visit with the new security detail, Izabele had a lot of questions. The Russian woman wouldn't answer any of them, though she seemed on the brink a couple of times.

While watching the news, she had no reason to believe that her family was involved in what happened. The French had many enemies, and she knew that. But after 3 extra security personnel were placed around and inside her home, her mind was running with questions. She'd wanted to ask Mikhail several times, but didn't think it of import until the extra detail was put in place. She'd been simply enjoying their family time, trying to push what was happening outside of their home into the back of her mind. Now, she couldn't keep her questions or her thoughts to herself.

She'd already put Dimitri to bed, Annie was upstairs in one of the guest rooms, and Iza was just waiting for her husband to come home. When she heard the door open, she turned off the television and started to make her way to the front of their home. She ran to him and threw her arms around him, breathing in his familiar scent. His presence was always a calming aspect for her.

"Did you see the men Nadya put around our home? We also have Abram," she said, pointing to the man standing close to the door.

She pulled back to look at him in his eyes. "Please tell me what is going on. I don't like being kept in the dark, Misha."

"It's just a precaution," he assured once their eyes met. Placating. "Rumors tend to morph into blame and finger pointing. After the Kensington incident, I would prefer to not assume any risks where you and Dima are concerned." Only a partial fib.

I don't like being kept in the dark, Misha.

Here a knock at the door, she closed the file in question, going to answer the door to find her guest there. "Misha, come in." Nadya opens the door further, closing it behind him. "I wanted to go over the new detail that will be placed on Izabele. I wanted to make sure personally that it will be taken care of properly." She knew how much the woman meant to him, and she would make sure nothing happened, they were both important to her friend.

His chin dipped into a nod at the pretense, as civil and polite as a man could be when the safety of his whole universe sat behind the cover a manila envelope. Before she even began divulging the intricacies of her plan, he flipped the file open and started reading ahead. Little brother tendencies. "Off the record," he spoke at the tail end of those reassurances, imploring her expertise rather than questioning her ability. "Do you believe this is sufficient enough? Is there more that we can do?

Harry, who remained standing, ever watchful, looking between Melissa then back to Mikhail.

"I came because I need something from you. Something I know you can deliver, and in return—" hand gesturing out towards him, leaning back in her own chair, as she crossed her legs. "I'm willing to offer something you may want, as payment." Whether that be cash or an item. She didn't care. It was pretty simple, but getting him to agree too it...was a whole other ball game. "It's mutually beneficial."

When the drinks arrived, she changed to light hearted nonesense until her depature, taking a sip before she continued. "There's been some contention on my end, behind the scene. I wont go into it because it isn't public knowledge," a slight gnaw on her lip, as she huffed through flared nostrils. "When the time comes, I need someone on your side who sees value for what it is. I plan to keep my alliance Russian aligned, but I need some assurances with current...circumstances."

The aim of the game was: if, and when she spoke with Konstantin...she wanted Mikhail as someone who could vouch for her. Melissa had proven her usefulness in her tenure, but back up plans were always important. Plan a,b,c,d and e.

The verbal circles she could spin–– it was no wonder Melissa Lin had been formidable in a courtroom once upon a time. Had he been less accustomed to the nature of her request, or the changing tides in London, perhaps she might've succeeded in befuddling even him. "While I appreciate your attempt at candor, I must admit you’re still leaving much to be desired." It was the first he'd spoken or moved in several minutes, reaching for his own drink at last. "My brother may be more attuned to that sort of political double speak, but I prefer to discuss plainly.”

Contention on her end would be putting things lightly when it appeared the viper had found herself in a rather tight spot. “As you recall, our alliance was borne out of a common understanding and shared interests." Brittle it may be, they'd overlapped with less to achieve a common goal. "If you're implying that's no longer true for much of your side, then I'm sure you can understand why I hesitate to further build upon an already cracking foundation."

Lower then, a warning. "You and Andrew need to plug the leaking holes before your entire ship goes down." The ease of that was up to them, and distinctly not his problem or responsibility. "Unless," his eyes narrowed ever so slightly with intrigue, "you're searching for a personal, one-woman lifeboat. If so then you're right, I do want something in return."

A beat for the dramatic effect she seemed to relish in.

"Someone."

She still felt butterflies when he complimented her and when his lips met her skin, she felt a little shiver go down her back. It didn't matter how long they'd been together or how old they would grow, his presence always stirred something inside of her that had been missing before she'd found him. He was her other half.

"I thought you might think so..." she teased, playfully biting at his finger and grabbing his hand with her own. Her eyes moved from his lips to his eyes. "Seeing that look on your face makes me think I might have to wear pink more often."

Dima ran from his dad to one of his many toys that littered the living room. "I'm glad we'll have tonight just the two of us," she said softly, her face close to his. "I get you all to myself."

Once their hands met, he encompassed her smaller one and brought the knuckles to his lips. "In that case I'm afraid I have a confession," he leaned down just far enough, "I would've complimented you in any color." Surely when a person glowed as she did, the entire rainbow fell to her disposal and not a single shade sat out of reach.

"As am I. It doesn't happen often enough," For that he was endlessly apologetic–– to a point. Her time away from Dima rarely occurred by design and never without a multitude of contingencies and forethought. Not because Iza was forcibly bound to him by any means, but when they remained together where Misha could account for them both, it gave the weary organ in his chest less pause.

As he'd learned by virtue of Kosta's egregious loss, vulnerability often served as a flashing sign to welcome violence.

"Annie will be here soon, we should get him to sleep."