Warning: Some mild language. Rated T.

A/N: Enjoy!

Chapter 9

Mark

It had been two days since Mark had left Seattle Grace Hospital.

It had been two days since he had laid eyes on Lexie Grey. He didn't like the feelings that stirred within him due to her absence. He was not the kind of man that sat around letting his thoughts just drift to a woman. The absence of her presence was making him agitated and making his frustration grow.

What was worse, was he hadn't even felt her lips on his. He hadn't had the chance to hold her like he had been thinking about since the moment he had laid eyes on her. If he was this frustrated without having the opportunity to really explore her, he worried about his state of mind when he actually got that opportunity.

He knew he was getting ahead of himself. But he was Mark Sloan, though. He was a sex god, and irresistible to deny. He understood in his own mind how arrogant he sounded by saying that, but he was sure that once she had a chance to have time alone with him, she would see what he was already coming to terms with: they were meant for each other.

He felt like he was the girl in the relationship, debating in his head when he should text her for that date she had agreed too. He wanted to text her right away when he gotten back to his place, but he didn't want to appear desperate. He didn't want to not text her at a reasonable time, letting her think he wasn't interested. His best friend was having too much fun at his expense.

"Does she like me. Does she not. Does she like me," he teased, his hands pretending as if he had a flower in one hand and plucking petals with the other.

Mark groaned. "Shut up."

He was hating his patronizing tone every second it dragged on. "I think it's cute. You're growing up."

"I swear to god, Derek, even in my injured state, I will kick your ass if you don't stop." He warned.

Derek just smiled, not even worried in the slightest. Mark tried to hide his scowl. He had always been taller than Derek, so it had been easy when they were kids, that when they wrestled, he was usually able to bring down Derek within seconds, grappling for a few more minutes before he ultimately pinned him.

As they got older and joined the academy, learning actual professional ways to beat opponents through hand-to-hand combat and other fighting techniques, it wasn't as easy to beat his friend as it once had. For the most part, they usually won and loss half the time equally, unless there were moments that he was so pissed off he used their sparring sessions as an outlet for his pent-up aggression.

"In all seriousness, give it a day, and then you can text or call her." Derek offered up.

He hated hearing the own skepticism in his voice. "Yeah?"

Derek nodded. "It's the perfect balance. You're not to desperate, but yet, it let's her know that you are thinking about her."

Mark glanced at his friend. "And how do you know this?"

Derek shot him a devilish grin. "Because unlike you, I appreciate being in a monogamous relationship."

"Since when?"

Derek shrugged. "Since forever."

Mark's whole face scrunched up in confusion. "So, why have I never met any of the women you were in a relationship with before? When was the last time you had a girlfriend?"

"Well, I haven't found anyone worth being in a relationship with yet."

Mark laughed. "Uh-huh. I'm taking advice from the blind leading the blind," he muttered.

"Well, I've found one now. And I already have plans to see her again."

Mark arched his brow. "Big Greg?"

Derek's head shook up and down. "Yep. Coffee at the hospital, but a date's a date."

As much talk and crap that Derek gave him, he was pretty certain that his brother was in the exact same position as him when it came to wanting to have something other than just a meaningless hookup. What was it about these Grey sisters that seemed to entice both of them within hours?

Still, he had followed his brother's advice, and waited the twenty-four hours before he had texted Lexie. When he hadn't gotten a response right away—because again, he had turned pathetic—he had feared she had changed her mind.

It was hours later when she had finally responded. There had been a multiple car accident, to where she had been in back-to-back surgeries. She was finally getting a day off the next day, and they had both agreed to meet up for dinner at his place.

He was worried that she would take the invite the wrong way—god he really was a woman—by having their first date back at his house, but the need to ensure they kept their relationship under the radar for as long as possible, until things had calmed down—was imperative.

It felt like the heavy weight on his chest lifted, when she had replied that she understood, even going so far as to sending him a follow-up text that she was looking forward to the date.

Get it together man.

He had been unable to sleep last night, knowing that today was the day that she would be coming to his home. He had it all planned out. He was going to cook her one of his favorite meals, something his mother used to make for him all the time. They were going to have a traditional lasagna, salad, and wine.

Before he could head back to his place and start preparing for their date, he had to attend to his business first. He had to meet with Dimitri Belsky and make sure he and the Russian's understood they no longer operated on their own violation. The equivalent of a mother and father taking away all their toys and freedoms.

He knew that Lexie would be angry with him, if she had found out that instead of him getting the necessary rest that she had been adamant that he received, he was back in the thick of things at his club, attending to meetings and seeing things through, and now meeting with the Russians.

Being present, letting all the crime organizations know that he wasn't down and out, and that he was more equipped to be the leader he was, was necessary to ensure that a war between all of the crime families would not occur.

As it was, he was having to use makeup to hide many of the more prominent bruises he had sustained at the hands of Sergei and even Dimitri. It was why all the more that Mark needed to meet with Dimitri as soon as possible, to demand the respect that even Dimitri could not deny once he was seated directly face-to-face with him.

He had finally been able to remove his bandage to his head, the swollenness of his skin fading, his stitches from the surgery that Lexie had performed hidden by his hair. His arm was still tender and ached anytime he did anything that seemed strenuous or stretched the stitches. Lexie had assured him that, Jackson Avery, their Head of Plastics was the best in the business and would ensure that he would have limited scaring if anything at all based on the techniques he used in his surgery.

Lexie would be furious with him now, if she could see him sitting here tending to a glass of scotch while he waited for Dimitri to show up to the meeting. He had made a point in arriving early to one of his favorite and expensive restaurants in the city.

Le Fou Frog was one of the best French restaurants in the city. The owner, Felipe Cloutier; also happened to be one of the places that Mark protected. Felipe was always more than happy to see Mark around and ensure his meetings were discreet.

Mark took another swig of his scotch, his fingers drumming against the table. The anticipation of having to sit across from one of the men that had taken great pleasure in his torture, without wanting to inflict harm on him himself, would be the greatest testament to his strength.

Even though Mark had enough to drag in Dimitri Belsky and make sure he never saw and outside of a cell again, it was better for the moral and the fact that he understood they played their moves like a game of chess—made it more lucrative to ensure Dimitri stayed where he was…just with the understanding that Mark would be watching their every movement.

As if on cue, Dimitri Belsky and another of his Russian comrades arrived at the restaurant. The hostess smiled sweetly, as she walked them back over to his table. It annoyed Mark that both of them walked into the place as if everyone should know who they were and be afraid of them, but with Mark there protecting the establishment, they literally had no power whatsoever.

Dimitri had enough sense to keep from meeting his eyes. He had already overplayed his hand, and showed more disrespect in the hierarchy of how things worked. He was on thin ice, and even he knew to tread carefully.

The FBI had done extensive dossier on each of the players in what the Russian's called their bratva—their gang—leaving no stone unturned when it came to understanding what they were working with. The Russian's always seemed to have the same profile conclusion—demented, power-hungry, sadistic killers that cared about no one but themselves and their family.

Dimitri was the first to approach the table, his eyes briefly flickering at him, having enough sense to at least offer a rueful expression. "Mr. Sloan," he greeted his accent just as thick as Sergei's had been.

Mark had figured it had to be hard for Dimitri to come and meet with him today, especially with his tail between his legs. Dimitri and Sergei had been the best of friends growing up, just as Derek and Mark had been. In Dimitri's eyes, he most likely had come to the conclusion that his friend had been killed, his body disposed of in the manner of Mark's choosing. He was extremely lucky to be breathing and even walking considering the role he had played in the attempt to overthrow him.

"It's nice to see you finally understand respect," Mark said sharply, waving his finger absentmindedly to let them know he approved the both of them to sit.

Mark observed the man that Dimitri brought with him. No doubt his new second in command. His name, Egor Vasilevsky, had come with Sergei from Russia, following the same ideals and nastiness of their former bastard of a leader.

Mark hadn't had the pleasure of meeting Egor before, but he could tell by the hardened jaw, lips drawn tight, and crinkles around the edges of his eyes, that Egor was not a fan of Mark's. Not that he would be surprised, having taken out his leader, which in return caused pain to Dimitri and the rest of their bratva.

If he didn't like Mark now, he wasn't going to like him in a little bit, when Mark laid the hammer down in what their failed plan would cost them. If they thought he was a problem to them now, he was going to be their most hated adversary to date. After their failed attempt on his life, they would be stupid to attempt anything again, especially with the other crime boss's distancing themselves having seen that Mark was looking strong and back in action.

Dimitri and Egor pulled out their chairs, Mark figuring the same thoughts going through their head, that he was currently sitting in front of them looking as put together as he did. It had only been a few days since the incident, but Mark needed to make a point as he had warned Sergei beforehand that walking down that path was going to be a mistake.

Mark was here for one reason, and one reason only. To ensure they understood the rules, and to personally deliver their punishment. The Russian's had always been the worst—the biggest thorn in his side—and it was time they understood the message loud and clear there would be no more forgiveness when it came from him.

"You requested meet. Is time we got down to business," Egor said through his broken English.

Mark sneered in his direction, but addressed Dimitri. "You are already on very thin ice, Belsky, if I were you, I would put your dog on a leash and refrain him from speaking unless I ask him too," he voice bitter and dangerous.

The two Russian's looked at each other, Dimitri whispered something low in Russian to Egor's whose face turned a shade paler, before his lips pressed together. The only sign that remained, was the flash of anger at having been reprimanded.

Dimitri cleared his throat. "Is no disrespect we mean, Mr. Sloan. We are here to make amends. To show our sincerest gratitude for your mercy of prior leadership's misguided ways."

"Your lack of respect is why we are here to begin with. I am here to make you understand your place here in Seattle and among the crime organizations under my leadership," he informed.

"We understand our territory," said Dimitri.

Mark picked up his glass of scotch he was nursing and took a sip. "Things change. You didn't really think you would walk away from what you had done without so much as a punishment for your disobedience. Did you?"

The two Russian's looked at each other, before they turned back and faced him. Both set of eyes were hardened knowing they were not going to in fact like the words that would come out of his mouth next. It made it all the more enjoyable for Mark, even though he was aware in the future it could create further hostility between the two crime organizations.

"What is you expect from our loyalty?" asked Dimitri.

Mark snorted. "Loyalty? That will remain to be seen."

Egor, the new second in command, eyes never left his, Mark well aware that his one hand stayed under the table no doubt fingering some kind of weapon sheathed in his belt. The younger Russian—like Sergei—had a hard time understanding how to check his temper and play the long game, but he was sure he wouldn't be stupid enough to make any bold movements in such a public place. Even if Mark had just become the number one target among the Russian crime organization.

"I am taking your profits for the next five months. I am also telling you that you will no longer conduct any human trafficking in my city. Everything and any moves you make will come through me," he enlightened.

Both of the Russian's eyes flashed with anger, but it was Egor that had a hard time when knowing when to keep his mouth shut.

"Is bullshit," Egor muttered.

There was one thing when it came to working up the ranks in any legal or illegal activity. One got there because they knew how to ensure intimidation with those that worked for them. After they had intimidation and fear, it became a dick measuring contest on who amongst them had the biggest balls around. Mark was that man.

Before Egor or Dimitri could even process what had happened, Mark reached across the table, yanking Egor's lapel of his coat, half dragging him up from the table and towards him. Egor's hips were smashed against the side of the table, his chest leaning over—Mark realizing how uncomfortable the stance would be for him. It was exactly what he wanted.

Felipe was savvy enough to always give him a table towards the back of the restaurant, which kept prying eyes to a minimum, but even this action caused a few full tables to look in his direction.

The sudden movement and jerk to pull Egor towards him, made him grit back prickles of pain that shot up his arm—the same bad arm he was using to grab a hold of Egor—the tension in his body coiled to keep the weight of the thicker Russian towards his face.

Mark stared him right in the eye, his gaze unwavering. "I thought I told you not to speak unless spoken to."

"Let us all calm down," Dimitri stood, putting his hand on Egor's shoulder.

Mark's gaze never left Egor's. "I will not afford you another opportunity," he said directing that to Dimitri.

He hesitated a moment, before finally releasing Egor's jacket. He waited until both the Russian's took their seats first, before he followed suit, sitting down, grabbing a hold of his glass and taking another swig of his scotch.

"We understand your terms. We accept them," Dimitri said.

Egor did not seem happy by that sudden acceptance by his leader. He whispered something harshly towards Dimitri, but it was Dimitri who only gave his comrade a one-word response: tsishihnan. Mark knew from his time around Yuri that it was the order to keep quiet. Egor's expression turned to cold hard anger, but he did as his boss asked.

"You will be required to attend our meetings in the place of your former disgraced leader, and you will do anything that I require of you. Anything."

Dimitri was quick, but not quick enough to hide the initial jerk of his upper lip at the blatant contempt for their former leader. It was Mark's test to see if the new leader would be one that would fall in line, or if Mark, Derek, and the agency were going to have to take more drastic measures.

Taking down one entire crime operation was risky for the sake of the operation to keep it going. A healthy amount of fear was one thing, but if they pushed to far, it could tip the pendulum to which all the crime bosses would want to turn on him. The likelihood was slim, since he had been tough but fair, but a complete turn on him would mean the end of the operation as they knew it.

While they would still have enough information to bring down every leader in Seattle, it wasn't enough yet to take out their entire organization. If the operation were to shut down, it would be only taking out one head instead of the entire root of the problem. Another would take its place, and the chance that the FBI would ever get another opportunity to get in this deep would never happen again.

"Is understood," said Dimitri.

Mark dipped his head back, jetting his chin out, knowing the worst of what he had brought them here to discuss was what came out of his mouth next. Elicit fear. It was what all crime leaders have to do.

"One more thing," Mark said, his hand twisting the glass of scotch on the table. "You will turn over any man that was responsible for the part they played in my assignation attempt."

Both of their expressions turned to that of objection of the request, but this is where Mark would fully understand if he had their allegiance: for now. Had it been any other crime leader, they would have already ordered hits, gone and shot up their compound for retribution. He understood that his request would likely make them understand the unspoken meaning that their misguidance would result in their comrade's death.

For the bratva, death would be preferred instead of what Mark had instore for them. The same endgame for Sergei Anatoly—life in prison—cut off from any communication or physical contact. For gang members and men used to authority it was the worse kind of punishment imaginable.

Egor started to whisper something to Dimitri in Russian, his words becoming more and more clipped with each annunciation, told Mark he was against his boss giving into this demand. The pained look in Dimitri's expression told him, he knew he had no choice. Because, if the roles were reversed, they would be requesting the same in return.

"I warned you, Dimitri, I gave your crew the chance to walk away. This entire thing could have been avoidable. Now, you pay the price. You want to show me your loyalty, you must do whatever it takes," he added.

Egor continued his rant in Russian, before Dimitri snapped at him once again using the previous command to keep quiet.

"I accept your terms," Dimitri said regretfully.

Egor stood suddenly, his chair behind him wobbling before coming back on all four to the ground. "Hety!" No for Russian.

Mark clocked his hand on his belt, going for the bulge of a gun on his waist. He ground his teeth, but before he could react or have to say anything further, it was his own second in command who appeared behind him standing at his shoulder.

"Not a wise move," said Derek in a calm, authoritative voice next to him.

Dimitri was on his feet now, yanking Egor behind him, his hands out and up to display peace. Derek's eyes never left either of the Russian's, Mark remaining in his own seat, cool, calm and collected. He brought the remaining scotch to his lips and took a sip.

"I think we have concluded all the business we needed to. You may leave now," Mark dismissed.

Dimitri nodded, tugging at the jacket of his comrade.

"Oh, and Dimitri—" he waited until the new Russian leader met his expression, "—Your men…you have until tomorrow to hand them over, or I will take them by force."

The two of them scowled at the command, they were not used to having to accept orders from anyone outside of their bratva. They were at least smart enough to begin to back away without another word with the exception of a nod to confirm their orders.

Once they were out of sight, Derek turned and sat down opposite of him. Felipe was already moving over to them, placing another glass of scotch in front of Mark, and one for Derek.

"I thought I told you I didn't need your help for this," Mark mused, taking a sip.

Derek grinned. "Forgive me, the last time you told me you didn't need my help, that didn't really end so well."

"So, am I to be watched now?"

Derek shook his head. "Backed up, you shit head."

They both laughed, clinking their glasses together. "Thank you, anyway," he said with a grin.

Derek took a sip with a nod of his head. "Did they agree to the terms?"

Mark sighed. "Yes, but it will come at a price. They did not like having to follow my orders."

"To be expected. As long as we have some room until we get the approval from command on our next action."

"We'll, deal with that as it comes. We both know they have one idea, but it's not necessarily what is best," said Mark.

Mark was certain of two things. One: the Russians wouldn't be stupid to make anymore moves to further any more scrutiny into their gang. Two: the pressure from command to get more arrests, more rackets confiscated. They were in too deep to just pull back and ruin it all now.

"I thought you had plans," Mark said, changing the subject.

Derek shrugged. "She got stuck with work," he replied.

"Big Grey?"

Derek took another sip. "She fascinates me."

Mark hesitated. "What is it about these Grey sisters?"

"So, I take it you are still keeping to your date tonight?"

Derek glanced back at him, and if Derek's jaw could drop, he was sure it would. He didn't want his best friend to know that this date tonight with Lexie had been all that he could think about since he left the hospital. Internally, he was still fighting against the push-pull when it came to her, and he knew his brother was pushing him more to finally let something good in his life. To take a chance.

He still didn't know if he could.

He shrugged, trying not to let his best friend know that for the first time in his life, he was nervous as hell to want to impress a woman. To want to actually get to know a woman outside of wanting to just take her straight to bed. It was a new and unfamiliar feeling for him. He was still trying to process it himself.

"I am."

"Good for you. I'm proud of you," Derek said sincerely.

"Shut up. It's just a date. It's not a big deal."

Derek tried to make it seem as if it was nothing, but his expression betrayed him.

"What?" Mark asked at last.

"You act like it's no big deal, but I can't ever remember the last time you took time out to take someone on a date."

Mark leaned back in his chair; his eyes glued to the scotch swirling around in his glass. It had been years since he had taken a woman on a date, and the last time he recalled he had, was because he had been ordered too. He was trying to find a way into the Irish gang—gain more information—command's idea being that he get close to one of the leader's daughters. It was for the job, mixed with a bit of fun, but that was all it was. It never would have turned into anything more.

Lexie was different. She was soft compared to the hardness he had to deal with each day. She was good compared to the evil he had to witness. She was smart, where all he saw was ruthlessness. She was the light, the way to find himself out of the darkness…and that kind of change was not only enticing but potentially life altering and dangerous.

He had to remain focused. He had to do anything the job required him to do. If he let himself continue to want to be with her, then he would do anything for her instead of what would be required of him to do for them.

Control. Keep the control.

Derek smirked. "And you're cooking for her too." he teased. "I see your pulling out all the stops."

He groaned, throwing back the remainder of the scotch. He stood, buttoning his suit jacket. "I'm leaving."

"Oh, come on, we were just getting started."

"Nope."

"Make sure you tell her she looks pretty," he offered.

Mark narrowed his eyes at him. "I know how to talk to women. Mind your own business."

Derek leaned back, crossing his right leg over his left leg's ankle. "Oh, this is going to be good."

He should have walked away, but he didn't. He half turned back to his friend. "Yeah? Why's that?"

Derek raised his glass to his friend. "Because this one…she's the one that's going to finally change you."

Mark was still stewing over his best friend's words as he got home and started preparing things for their dinner.

He sent a quick text to Lexie—after Derek had mentioned that Meredith had to cancel on him—to make sure she too did not get called in from her day off. Her response was immediate that she would be there.

He changed out of his suit, putting on a pair of dark blue jeans and a black sweater that clung to his shoulders and chest, accenting all of his muscles he worked so hard to maintain.

He had just finished placing his homemade lasagna into the oven, waiting to fix the salad until Lexie got there. His expensive bottle of wine was chilling in the fridge, and all he had to do now was wait.

He checked his watch, it just turning to eight in the evening. The nerves were back in his stomach again. Partly because of what Derek had said, and also because until she was here, he was worried about her safety. It had started raining about twenty minutes ago, which often made driving conditions worse.

Derek's earlier words about Lexie having the ability to change him made something in his stomach tighten that he just couldn't pinpoint why that was. She couldn't have this hold over him. There couldn't be anything special about her. There had to be something that was making him feel this way.

Maybe it was her innocence. Maybe he had become that bastard that everyone knew him to be. To find a challenge; show that he still had what it takes—proving that he was still the best when it came to anything.

You're a liar.

With Lexie Grey, that would never be the case. Those thoughts would never be accurate when it came to her. Until he could set his eyes on her, touch her…his impatience grew with each second. Like he was holding his breath and waiting for the opportunity when he could exhale that she was with him and protected.

The door bell rang. He dropped his glass of scotch, his feet moving him towards the front door. When he opened the door, he was able to take that breath he had been holding.

Lexie Grey was standing in front of him, her lips turned upwards into a smile.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey."

A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Welcome to your thoughts and comments.