The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 245

Aveline

Moving to examine the exterior walls, he continued his assessment. "Current construction is standard residential—adequate for privacy, useless for protection. We'll need to retrofit with Kevlar-reinforced panels and steel backing. Figure another forty thousand for materials, sixty if we want it completed within seventy-two hours."

Orion and I exchanged glances, both impressed and slightly overwhelmed by his thoroughness.

"The good news," Dmitri continued, "is that Nikolai's advance team has likely already arrived in the city, but given the logistics of international travel and his preference for elite operatives over large numbers, we're probably looking at fewer than thirty personnel."

He paused in his inspection to study the skyline visible from our property. "More importantly, given his psychological profile and tendency to psychologically torment targets before eliminating them, the actual assault won't begin immediately. My estimate is one week—seven days before you experience the full scope of the Pakhan's capabilities."

Something in his tone made me shiver. "You seem to know him very well."

Dmitri turned to look at me directly, his red hair catching the breeze in a way that made him look both beautiful and dangerous. His smile held no warmth.

"I suppose you could say we have history. Nikolai recruited me off the streets of Kiev when I was eight years old. He shaped me, trained me, turned me into everything I am today." His expression grew distant. "He was like a father to me. A harsh, demanding, occasionally cruel father, but the closest thing to family I'd ever known."

I felt a chill of understanding. "If he was like a father to you, why are you fighting against him now?"

Dmitri's laugh was sharp and bitter. "Haven't you ever read Greek mythology? Patricide is practically a traditional rite of passage for ambitious sons. Perhaps I've simply reached the point where I want to see if the student has surpassed the master."

His casual admission of such personal betrayal should have worried me, but instead, I found myself fascinated by his complexity.

Before I could ask more questions, he pointed toward a high-rise building visible in the distance. "That structure, approximately eight hundred meters northeast—excellent sight lines to this property. With military-grade optics, an observer positioned there could monitor your daily routines in perfect detail."

He gestured to several of his people, speaking in rapid Russian. They nodded and immediately set off toward the building he'd indicated.

"Tomorrow," he continued, addressing Orion directly, "you'll need to visit Blackwater Security Solutions on Fifth Avenue. Tell them you need executive protection specialists and that Dmitri Volkov sent you. Mention that budget is no object."

"Will regular security personnel be adequate for this kind of situation?" Orion asked.

Dmitri's smile turned predatory. "Blackwater typically provides standard bodyguards for wealthy clients who want to feel important. But when you mention my name and unlimited funding, they'll offer you something entirely different—former Navy SEALs, Delta Force operators, people who've spent their careers in actual combat zones."

He began walking back toward the house, his assessment apparently complete. "The initial team they provide will cost approximately fifty thousand per day, but they're worth every penny. These are people who've survived operations that would terrify conventional criminals."

I caught Orion's eye and saw my own amazement reflected there. Even Viktor's organization, with all their resources and reputation, couldn't have provided this level of professional expertise.

"I'm leaving ten of my people here tonight," Dmitri announced. "For the next week, this property should be relatively secure. However, if you need to leave the premises, wait until tomorrow when your armored vehicles arrive."

"Armored vehicles?" I repeated.

"Three identical bulletproof sedans, all departing simultaneously in different directions. Classic shell game—makes it impossible for surveillance teams to determine which vehicle contains the actual targets."

He handed Orion a business card. "Mercedes-Benz Special Protection. Ask for the S-Class Guard models. They'll stop everything short of military-grade explosives."

He paused, then added with his characteristic directness, "Oh, and I'll send Vivian a detailed invoice for all these expenses within the hour. I'll need the funds transferred immediately." His green eyes fixed on Orion with calculating intensity. "I trust money won't be an issue?"

Orion seemed momentarily taken aback by the abrupt shift to financial logistics, but his response was automatic. "Whatever you need, I can provide."

As he prepared to leave, I felt compelled to ask one more question. "What's your plan for actually dealing with Nikolai? All of this is defensive—what's the endgame?"

Dmitri paused at our front gate, his expression unreadable in the dim light. "The endgame, Mrs. Blackwell, is something I'm still working out. But I can promise you this—by the time I'm finished, either Nikolai will be dead, or I will be. There won't be any middle ground."