“Iosif!” I bellow, shutting him up before Krukov does. Iosif doesn’t look happy, but at least he keeps his mouth shut.
“You see that?” Krukov now looks positively pissed. “Your brother is a menace. He does this again, and I’ll bar the whole lot of Yuris from here, you hear me?”
“Oh, come on now.” I throw Krukov a charming smile. “How about you give me a number, and I swear I’ll sort my dumb brother out.”
This time, Iosif doesn’t protest, not even at being called dumb. Krukov likes to pretend his spot is neutral ground, but being barred from here is being blind to information. Everyone comes here for one thing, and it isn’t for getting dealt a hand of cards.
It’s for the secrets.
I can’t afford for our family to be shut out from Krukov’s.
After negotiating a sum that makes me wince—Iosif really did a number on the place—I grab my brother by the collar and drag him outside.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” I demand once we're in the car.
“I was trying to help!” he protests, dabbing at his bloody nose with his sleeve. “I heard Krukov's place was where the Zakharovs invite the city cops. I thought I could get some info for you.”
“Next time, do it quietly, will you? It’s no help when everyone knows what you’re up to.”
“I swear I had it under control until one of them recognized me as a Yuri,” he mutters.
“There better not be a next time, Iosif. I mean it.” I glower at him, and after that, he doesn’t offer any more excuses. My brother is a royal pain in my ass, but every time, I do what I must to save him from trouble.
I drive him to Trifon's compound, where he has his own cottage. No way am I letting him go back to his apartment in this state, and especially not when he sent his men off for the night and whoever he pissed off could come looking for him.
“You will stay here tonight without causing trouble,” I tell him as I help him inside. “And don't tell Trifon about this. I'll handle Krukov.”
“Thanks, Val.” He gives me a bloody grin. “You always have my back.”
“Someone has to,” I grumble, but give him a parting hug. I've been watching out for Iosif since we were kids, and there’s no point stopping now.
I head back to Krukov's to smooth things over properly. It’s not just about the damage; I have to find out who the troublemakers were and keep them all quiet about this incident.
***
By the time I get home, dawn is almost breaking. I'm exhausted, my muscles are aching, and my mind is still spinning with the events of the night.
From Gela's kiss to Iosif's mess, it's been one hell of a day.
I collapse into bed without even undressing fully, and I'm out before my head hits the pillow.
When I wake, the sun is high in the sky. I check my phone and see that it’s almost nine in the morning. That’s pretty late, for my standards.
I’m still groggy and know I can’t think straight before a cup of coffee. I throw on a clean shirt and head downstairs, straight to the kitchen.
What I find there stops me in my tracks.
Gela is standing at the stove with her back to me, humming softly as she flips something in a pan. Not only that, but the table is already set for two, with coffee already poured, fruit cut, and a breakfast casserole steaming in the center.
“Tell me I’m dreaming,” I mutter, in utter disbelief at the sight before me.
She turns and freezes when she sees me.
“Oh,” she says, a flush creeping up her neck. “You're up.”
“And are you…cooking?” I ask, unable to keep the surprise from my voice.
“Don't sound so shocked.” She rolls her eyes, turning back to what I see now are pancakes. “I do know my way around a kitchen, you know?”
