Wolfgang shifts to his side.
He watches Kala as she zips up her jeans and puts on a light jacket over a bright yellow top. Her hair is damp, still piled in the loose knot she wore in the shower. She had wanted to have breakfast at the cafe across the street, but Wolfgang's clothes are still too wet to wear. And while Wolfgang lazily suggested they have room service, Kala decided she would rather bring them both breakfast.
"Are you sure you just want coffee?" she asks again, looping her purse over her shoulder.
Wolfgang nods. "Yeah," he says. He sits up, stifles a yawn. "Black."
"Coffee. Black." Kala shakes her head. "I am so hungry!" she says, walking back to the bed. "I am getting the biggest zimt schneck I can find. Maybe two. With lots of icing on top. You are going to be very sorry." She sits next to him on the edge of the bed, her dark eyes dancing in anticipation. He wonders with a sigh if she already envisions the sweet roll in front of her.
"I won't be sorry" he assures her, amused. "I don't care for sweets. I don't normally have breakfast anyway."
"No?" Kala looks at him doubtfully. "I don't understand how you're not hungry when you didn't eat anything last night," she says.
Wolfgang's blue eyes light up with mischief. "Didn't I?" He smirks as the inevitable heat creeps up her cheeks. "Exactly," he drawls, closing the short gap between them to kiss her. He smiles against her mouth. "Hurry back."
Kala gives a soft huff, nonplussed, as she rises from the bed. "I will," she says. She walks away, cheeks still bright, and shuts the door quietly behind her.
Wolfgang lays back against the pillows. He finds it charming that he can fluster her so easily when they're not in bed. He gives a faint huff, his smile indulgent.
The ease he felt earlier remains. In the full light of day, there's still no regret, no sense of panic: He confessed his identity to Kala and she chose to stay. He asked her if they could make their relationship real, and she agreed.
He doesn't think too deeply about it; it's pointless to wonder whether he did the right thing. For now, he'll enjoy it. Whatever happens next will just happen.
Wolfgang closes his eyes, lulled by the quiet and sense of contentment. He drifts into half-sleep, but wakes abruptly when he hears the faint but distinct buzz of his cellphone.
Wolfgang sits up. .
He grumbles as he pulls off the bedsheet and gets out of bed. He told Yeruslan last night that he was going to see Kala, not that he wasn't coming back. And he hadn't thought once to call or message.
Wolfgang grimaces. It was not the first time Yeruslan was left alone to cover the club; he is certainly more than competent to run things by himself. But with Thursday's liquor delivery only temporarily resolved and the club still short-staffed, Felix would say it was kind of a dick move to abandon Yeruslan. On a Friday night. With Felix gone.
It takes Wolfgang a moment to recall that he left his new cellphone in the pocket of his suit coat. He walks to the chair where Kala hung it and fishes his cellphone from the damp pocket, just as the phone stops buzzing. He gives a huff of frustration and unlocks his phone.
There are no messages from Yeruslan.
But there are four text messages and now a missed call from Felix.
Wolfgang almost groans out loud. He braces himself for a moment before he checks the first message, sent around the time he dropped Kala off at the hotel. He has no recollection of the phone chiming a notification, although to be fair, he'd been too preoccupied to notice. But now, reading the message, he is discomfited by unexpected guilt at Felix's first text:
How is Kala? Is she ok?
He's not sure why he's surprised that Felix's first message asks about Kala. He told Felix about the note Lila left; that Kala spent the night at a hotel because she was uneasy. Felix had hummed his concern, agreed it was a good idea to see her after work and make sure she is fine. Wolfgang should have thought to call and assure Felix.
Wolfgang's eyes flicker over the three other messages. The time stamp shows they were sent hours later, but minutes apart from each other:
Are you going back to the club?
Are you staying with Kala?
Call me.
Wolfgang gives a short exhale. There is now a voicemail message from the missed phone call:
"Dude." Felix's voice is weary but unmistakably disapproving. "Just. Call me later. I'm taking my mom to an appointment. I'm guessing you're just now getting some sleep. Call me."
Wolfgang curses softly beneath his breath.
It's not difficult to guess what Felix wants to talk about. Felix is uneasy about Lila's interest in Kala. After finding out about the note, he had reminded Wolfgang that they agreed to put a stop to the fake relationship before shit happens.
Well. He has stopped the fake relationship.
Wolfgang huffs a little at his weak joke, but he knows Felix will not be the slightest bit amused. Felix won't believe that Lila didn't threaten Kala, that Lila only tried to warn her away. Felix will insist on breaking things off, even if Kala herself says she didn't feel threatened. He will think Kala is too naive to know.
And maybe it's true: Maybe Kala didn't catch all the nuances of her meeting with Lila. Maybe she misunderstood something that was said, or didn't pick up on subtleties. For all her fluency, it's easy to forget that Kala's German doesn't always catch subtext.
Maybe it's past time he had a more direct discussion with Lila, one that Lila can't possibly misunderstand.
The door unlocks a beat before it opens and Kala walks into the room, hastily shutting the door behind her, eyes wide at catching him standing about, naked. She mutters something about nudity, and Wolfgang laughs a little, allowing himself to be distracted as she carefully hands him a cup of coffee.
He'll call Felix after he deals with Lila. There will be nothing to worry about from her.
He'll see to that.
…
His clothes are a little damp but dry enough to wear before Kala has to check out of the hotel. Wolfgang uses the hair dryer in the bathroom to make sure he won't be completely uncomfortable, although he looks forward to changing into fresh clothes at his place.
He calls Yeruslan while Kala moves around the room, packing her things with crisp efficiency. She eyes him curiously as he speaks in quick Russian, thanking Yeruslan for covering alone, apologizing for not checking in sooner.
He doesn't really expect anything out of the ordinary when he asks how things went, so he frowns in surprise when Yeruslan tells him they ran out of bottles of good liquor hours after opening.
"That's impossible. We got enough cases from Lev yesterday to last the week." Wolfgang can almost feel the shrug he suspects Yeruslan gives him and curses softly. "I'll check with the vendor about the last order," he murmurs, more than a little annoyed.
Yeruslan grunts on the phone. "Also we had to throw out some idiots causing trouble."
Wolfgang's brows tick up in surprise. "Oh?" Like most popular clubs, Dämonen has few house rules, but a reputation for strict enforcement of those rules. Disruptions are rare, and the handful of times it's happened, the troublemakers were drunken tourists.
As if aware of what Wolfgang thinks, Yeruslan clicks his tongue: "German idiots. Sasha kicked them out. I didn't even know about it until just now. They tried to get to the private rooms; they tried to bribe Sasha."
Wolfgang scoffs. "Yeah?" Like Yeruslan, Sasha had been with Grandfather Hassan for decades, unquestionably loyal, and uninterested in staying with the kings once Wolfgang renounced any claim to the East.
"Sasha said they were arrogant. But." There is a pause before Yeruslan adds: "When he was kicking them out, they told him Steiner would have had his balls."
Wolfgang's brows snap together, his attention caught. His ownership of the club is well known, but no one associated with Steiner or Anton has ever dared to show up, let alone caused him any trouble. "Did Sasha know them?"
Yeruslan sighs a little. "He's not sure. He didn't recognize them, but it's been awhile. He wasn't even going to say anything at first. But he told me just now. And so now I tell you."
Yeruslan isn't prone to false alarm, but there is wariness in Yeruslan's voice; probably because Sasha actually thought enough of it to mention the incident. Wolfgang exhales. "Ok," he says. "It's probably nothing. Just Steiner's old crowd. How much longer are you there?"
"An hour. Sasha too. Of course we will stay if you want to see us."
Wolfgang gives a short nod. "Yes. I've got to go home first, but I should be there before you both leave. We'll catch up before you go. I won't keep you long."
Yeruslan hangs up with another grunt.
"What's wrong?" Kala shuts her suitcase and rolls it by the door.
Wolfgang shakes his head. "Just work. I have to meet with Yeruslan, clear some things up." He pauses, waits as Kala wanders into the bathroom and returns her toiletries bag into her tote. "I need to be at the club before he leaves, in an hour."
"Alright." Kala closes her tote. "I can take a taxi back to my flat."
Wolfgang frowns. "Nah," he says. "I'll drive you. It's on the way back to my place and I'm going home to shower first, anyway. In fact…" He hesitates for a moment, but asks: "If you'd like, if you're still feeling uneasy about your place, why don't you stay at mine? I'll be gone most of the day." He smiles faintly as he approaches her and reaches for the handle of the suitcase. "You can get some sleep."
Kala smiles back. "Thank you, Wolfgang. That's very kind. But I have errands to run and laundry and dishes and other chores that I need to do." She pauses, adding practically: "I can't stay away forever. And I don't feel like I need to. I was only nervous because I thought Lila broke into my flat. It's not so scary knowing she just tricked the landlord. Unless." Kala frowns in concern. "Should I be worried?"
Wolfgang's brows lift. He shakes his head firmly. "No," he says. "This thing with Lila…It isn't really about you. I'll have a talk with her. She won't bother you again. I just thought…in case you weren't ready to go back…" He stares at her ruefully, shrugs. "I don't know when I can see you next. I need to take care of things at the club. And then I need to sleep before we open. If you stay at my place…" He lets the sentence drift unfinished, self-conscious that it sounds grasping when she just stated her preference to go home.
Kala watches him with eyes that seem to see through him. She smiles softly, catches her bottom lip before she gives a short huff. "Come to my place," she suggests. "I'll make you dinner. You can sleep there until it's time to go."
"Yeah?" He stares back in surprise. It had not occurred to him, but why not? He can bring a change of clothes, have a warm meal. Convince Kala that he doesn't need much sleep.
It is evident that the direction of his thoughts are obvious from the way the pupils in her eyes dilate and her cheeks suddenly grow pink. He gives an unrepentant smirk.
"Ok," he tells her. "I'll stop by later. I don't know how long I'll be busy but I'll call you when I know I'll be leaving."
Kala nods, shifting her tote on her shoulder. She reaches to take her suitcase back from Wolfgang but he rolls it slightly out of reach. "I will drive you to your flat," he says again.
She smiles back at him. "Ok."
…
Yeruslan sports an overnight stubble and weary eyes when Wolfgang arrives. Sasha doesn't look any better.
They sit restlessly in Wolfgang's office, brows drawn, as Wolfgang scrolls through camera footage from earlier that morning, his screen turned so they can watch as he focuses on the camera angled to the stairs that lead to the second floor.
"Sometime between 2:30 and 3:30," says Sasha, eyes narrowing at the time stamp on the screen.
Wolfgang moves through the footage, noting the people that went up the stairs to the private party rooms. Most are regulars he knows or recognizes, as do both Yeruslan and Sasha. A few people are seen turned away.
And then there's a bit of commotion just outside of the frame, not quite at 3 in the morning.
Wolfgang slows the video. The flashing strobe lights illuminate the progress of a group of revelers, a press of men and women that pushes back against another approaching group of men and women. Words seem to be exchanged. In the video, Sasha looks over at the groups, watching them even as he rejects a couple looking to go upstairs. But then the revelers seem to merge together, and the disturbance turns into nothing more than the usual grind of bodies, groping in the flash of the strobe. Wolfgang gives a huff and resumes rewinding the footage.
"Wait. Stop." Sasha leans forward, points to a shadowy group of men just approaching from the direction of the original disturbance. "It's these guys."
Yeruslan and Wolfgang watch carefully as the men come into frame. It's difficult to see their faces clearly as they make their way to the stairs, their heads and occasionally their shoulders the only thing visible in the crowd. The men squeeze past dancers and a server walking by with an empty tray, faces finally lit by a burst of light synched to the music.
Wolfgang frowns in concentration. The men look roughly around Steiner's age, although the dimness and the quality of the film make it difficult to tell for certain. They are conspicuously dressed in street clothes amid the Friday crowd dressed in fetish-wear or teetering on nudity.
"Who was watching the door?" Wolfgang asks, surprised that they were admitted.
Yeruslan side-eyes him, gives a discreet cough. "I had one of the newer guys do it. It was late and he was enthusiastic." Yeruslan sighs at Wolfgang's raised brow. "I sent him home before I heard about this. I'll talk to him."
Wolfgang frowns again, distracted by the suspicion that the new guy may have been bribed. He focuses his attention back to the video.
When the group reaches the stairs, they stop to talk to Sasha. The lights flash faster, partially illuminating their faces, and Wolfgang's eyes narrow at one of the shorter men who looks more familiar than the other two: His hair is shoulder-length, slicked back. Definitely around the age Steiner would be now.
Sasha narrates as Wolfgang and Yeruslan watch the footage play out: "They ask to go up to join a party, but they can't name anyone already there. All the rooms were booked, like always. I try to send them on their way when this one- " Sasha directs their attention to a tall man in front. He looks to be the youngest; Wolfgang doesn't recognize him. "He starts to argue with me. He needs to go up. He wants to see his friends that he can't name. Then he tries to bribe me - he's telling the other guy to give me money. Keta. Pep. Whatever. And while they're talking, this guy…" He points to the man that Wolfgang recognizes. "This guy tells me he knows about me. That I'm wasting my time there. He knows a guy that can use someone like me. Now I'm starting to wonder what the fuck these guys are really up to."
Sasha nods at the scene in front of him. In the video, he grabs the familiar-looking man by the elbow: "I tell them last chance to move or they need to go." The exchange looks heated: Sasha and the tall man are shouting angrily; dancers are either openly watching or moving farther away. Wolfgang recognizes two of his security staff edge discreetly behind Sasha, just within reach of the third guy, who is silent, but seems to notice. "I'm done with them at this point. I tell them they're tall guy spits at my foot. He says I don't know my place. That's when he tells me Steiner would have had my balls."
Yeruslan clicks his tongue. "I can't believe you didn't beat his brains in," he says, only half joking.
Sasha flashes an amused smile. "I am civilized now," he says, loftily. "Didn't you hear?"
Yeruslan chuckles.
Wolfgang is silent as he studies the figures frozen on his screen. He zooms in on the man he thinks he recognizes: makes the picture bigger, plays with the lighting. The man looks directly at one of the security guards that stands behind Sasha. He looks unsurprised and unbothered by the drama that unfolds around him, eyebrows raised. It's that expression that nags at Wolfgang, makes him wonder where he's seen it so recently that it stands out in his head.
Yeruslan and Sasha grow silent as they notice Wolfgang's concentration. They stare quietly at the frame as well.
"Who does that look like to you?" asks Wolfgang.
"I'm not sure," murmurs Yeruslan. Sasha shrugs.
Wolfgang exhales slowly. He doesn't socialize much outside of the club, and he certainly doesn't socialize with anyone that would have been friends with Steiner.
But there was one event, one month ago, that he attended: one event where he knew the host had been very good friends with Steiner, and a guest had known Steiner too. Wolfgang had thought the guest looked familiar then, but actually he was probably remembering the man's younger brother, who resembles the guest rather closely.
Well.
Wolfgang moves the screen back in place, glances up at Yeruslan and Sasha. "Call the guys that had door duty. I want to talk to them," he says. "And then I want you to find what you can about him." Wolfgang tips his head at the frozen face of the man on the screen. "Volker Bohm," he says. "His brother works with Lukas Fischer; they're cousins."
Yeruslan frowns. "Never heard of any Bohms," he murmurs. "He was with Steiner?"
Wolfgang nods slowly. "Yeah," he says.
"Who's he with now?" asks Sasha.
Wolfgang shrugs. Volker supplied the narcotics Steiner sold outside of the family business. It had been a very lucrative side-hustle, back when their grandfather was still alive and the Bogdanows didn't infringe on other Kings' business. Steiner would have been beaten to an inch of his life if he'd been caught. It's no wonder neither Yeruslan nor Sasha had ever heard of the Bohms.
"You need to find out who he is with now. If he's with anyone." Wolfgang looks back at the screen. His jaw clenches slightly.
He wonders if Volker Bohm's appearance at the club has anything to do with Lila or if it is mere coincidence. Lila didn't have any dealings with him, as far as Wolfgang knew.
But it's a nuisance, nonetheless. And Felix will definitely lose it if he hears. When he hears.
Wolfgang sighs deeply. He'll call Lila, see what she knows, and put a final stop to her games.
And if the Bohms are not part of her plans, if they truly returned for some other reason unrelated to Lila Facchini, he'll deal with them.
A/N: A longer-than-usual chapter for a longer-than-usual wait. Thank you to halcyon_red for being awesome and so, so accommodating.
And thank you all for still reading. As always, reviews are much appreciated.