Chapter 67 The Old Friend
ALEXEI
I watched Amelia smile at something I said and felt something uncomfortable twist in my chest.
Guilt.
I was manipulating her. Using her. Playing on her insecurities and her desire for independence.
And it was working perfectly.
She'd asked me to teach her to shoot. She was meeting me in secret. She was putting her trust in me.
Everything went according to plan.
But—
I liked her. I genuinely enjoyed her company.
She was funny. Smart. She was stronger than anyone gave her credit for. And when she smiled—
Cristo, when she smiled, it did something to me.
This was supposed to be strategy. Business. I was using her as leverage against the Santoros.
But sitting here, listening to her laugh at my stupid jokes, watching her face light up when she talked about books—
It felt real.
And that was dangerous.
For both of us.
I was Alexei Volkov, the son of Viktor Volkov and the future heir to a family that was at war with the Santoros.
And she was Jeremy Santoro's—what? Girlfriend? Secret? Weakness?
Whatever she was to him, I was supposed to take her away from him.
But what if I didn't want to give her back?
What if this stopped being about strategy and became about—
Her?
I pushed the thought away.
Focus. This was about the plan. About weakening Jeremy. About giving my family leverage.
Not about the way Amelia's laugh made my chest warm.
Not about how I wanted to protect her even while I was using her.
Not about—
"Alex? You okay?" Amelia's voice was concerned.
"Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking."
"About what?"
About how I'm falling for the girl I'm supposed to be manipulating.
"About tomorrow. The shooting lesson. I'll need to make sure we have the right setup for someone who can't see the target."
"Will that be difficult?"
"Not impossible. There are techniques. We'll figure it out."
She smiled. "Thank you. For not treating me like I'm helpless."
"You're not helpless, Amelia. You're just navigating a difficult situation with fewer tools than most people have."
"That's a nice way of saying I'm blind and trapped."
"You're not trapped. You're just—" I paused. "You're just with the wrong people."
Her smile faded. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing. Forget it." I checked my watch. "You should probably head back. Before anyone notices you're gone."
"Right. Yeah." She stood and grabbed her cane. "Same time tomorrow?"
"Same time."
I walked her out of the café and watched her navigate down the street with her cane independently.
And completely unaware that I was the enemy.
That everything I was doing—the kindness, the friendship, the offers to help—was part of a plan to destroy the man she clearly cared about.
I pulled out my phone and texted Viktor:
The meeting went well. She's trusting me. She asked me to teach her to shoot. I will be using her vulnerability against Jeremy perfectly.
His response came immediately:
Excellent. Continue. But don't get attached. She's a tool, not a person. Remember that.
I stared at the message.
She's a tool, not a person.
Except she was a person. A real person with real feelings and real strength.
And I was using her anyway.
Because that's what Volkovs did.
We used people. Manipulated them. We were willing to destroy them if necessary.
This even extended to those we had begun to care about.
JEREMY
The meeting with my father and Antonio had gone exactly as badly as expected.
"The Brooklyn docks transfer," Antonio had said, leaning back in his chair with that smug expression I wanted to wipe off his face. "I've drawn up the paperwork. It just needs your signature and Dominic's approval to proceed.
My father had looked at me with those calculating eyes. "Why are you giving Antonio the docks, Jeremy? That's prime territory, and it's profitable and strategic."
I'd given the prepared answer. "I'm consolidating my interests elsewhere. The Midwest expansion requires focus. The docks are better suited to Antonio's operational style."
Lies.
But my father had nodded slowly. "And this has nothing to do with the blind girl living in your wing?"
My blood had gone cold. "What girl?"
"Don't play stupid. You think I don't know what happens in my house?" Dominic had stood and walked to the window. "Staff talk. Security reports get filed. I know you moved someone into your personal quarters. A young blind female."
Antonio had smiled. "Is she a beneficiary of your charity, nephew?" Or something more?"
"She's an employee. Personal maid. That's all."
"Is it?" My father had turned to face me. "Because Antonio seems to think you traded the Brooklyn docks to get her away from him. That you're compromised. Distracted. Making poor decisions because of a woman."
"That's not—"
"Is it true?" Dominic's voice had been sharp. Final. "Did you trade territory for a girl?"
I'd met his eyes. "I made a strategic decision to consolidate my operations. Antonio wanted the docks. I gave them to him. It's business."
"Business." My father had studied me for a long moment. "See that it stays business. Because if I find out you're letting personal feelings compromise your judgment—if I find out Antonio's right and you're weak—" He'd stepped closer. "I'll remove you as heir. Family comes first. Always. Not some blind girl you feel sorry for."
The meeting had ended there. But the warning was clear.
Stay away from Amelia. Or lose everything.
Now, driving back toward the estate, I couldn't stop thinking about her.
About last night. About this morning. About the way she'd felt in my arms.
About the fact that I was in love with her and couldn't tell anyone. Couldn't claim her publicly. Couldn't even acknowledge she meant anything more than an employee.
She needed friends. Real friends. People she could talk to who weren't me, weren't Luca, and weren't wrapped up in Family business.
People who could give her normalcy.
Elena Rodriguez.
The name had come to me during the meeting. The diner waitress had taken Amelia in when Jade and the others threw her out. Amelia had made that one genuine friend.
I pulled out my phone and called Vincent Russo.
"Boss?"
"I need you to find someone." Elena Rodriguez, who works at Sam's Diner, needs to be located. Please obtain her current address and phone number."
"Give me ten minutes."
He called back in eight.
"Elena Rodriguez, 24, still works at Sam's Diner on Fifth Street. Lives at 447 Maple Avenue, Apartment 3B. Want her phone number?"
"No. I'm going there now."
I changed course. I made my way towards the diner.
Sam's Diner - 3:30pm
Elena was wiping down tables when I walked in. She looked up and did a double-take.
"Mr Santoro?" She set down her rag, looking wary. "What are you doing here?"
"I need to talk to you. About Amelia."
Her expression immediately shifted to concern. "Is she okay? Did something happen?"
"She's fine. Can we talk? Privately?"
Elena glanced at her boss, who nodded. She gestured to a corner booth.
"What's the fuss about?" Elena asked as we sat. "Last time I saw you, you were storming into my apartment after Miguel." She stopped. "Is Amelia really okay?"
"She's safe. She's living at my estate. Working as my..." I hesitated. "Working for me."
"Working for you." Elena's eyes narrowed. "Doing what, exactly?"
"That's not why I'm here. I came because—" I took a breath. "Amelia needs friends. Real friends. People who aren't connected to my world. People who can give her something normal. Something that isn't—" I gestured vaguely. "This."
"So you want me to be her friend? Is that an order or a request?"
"A request. I know you cared about her when she stayed with you. I know you were kind to her. And right now, she needs that. Needs someone who sees her as Amelia, not as—" I stopped. She shouldn't be perceived as my obsession. My weakness or mysecret. "Just like Amelia."
Elena studied me for a long moment. "You care about her."
"Yes."
"More than you should, probably."
"Probably."
"Does she know that?"
I didn't answer.
Elena sighed. "Okay. Yeah, I'll visit her. I've missed her, actually. She was only with me for a few days, but she was good company. Kind. Funny when she relaxed. I worried about her after you took her away."
"She's safe. I promise you that."
"Safe from everyone else, maybe. But what about being safe from you?" Elena's voice was gentle but pointed. "Men like you—men with your kind of power—you aren't just concerned about people. You own them. Consume them. Is that what you're doing with Amelia?"
"No."
"You sure about that?"
I wasn't. But I said, "I'm trying to give her a life. Some semblance of normalcy. Friends. Freedom. That's why I'm here."
"Okay." Elena grabbed a napkin and wrote down her phone number. "Call me when you want me to visit. I work most evenings, but I'm free on Sundays."
"Today. Now. Come back with me to surprise her."
Elena blinked. "Right now?"
"Unless if you can't."
"No, I can. My shift ends in twenty minutes anyway." She stood up. "Let me tell my boss I'm leaving early. I'll meet you outside?"
"Thank you." I said, feeling a bit better.