As if sensing where my head is at, Kostya places a hand on my shoulder to bring my attention back to him.
“Heard Sergei Antanov was taken out last week. It was all over the news how the fucker died in his hotel room alongwith his swarm of bodyguards. I’m assuming that was your handiwork.” I nod. “Did the fucker suffer?” he asks, and I don’t miss how my brother’s free hand fists into a ball.
Kostya was only five years old when Katya was taken from us. He and Misha were the ones who found her, hanging naked and bloody from a lamppost in front of Saint Basil’s Cathedral on a Sunday morning as they were walking to mass. No matter what you do, some memories will forever haunt us, and I fear that seeing our beloved sister like that had a visceral impact that changed Kostya forever. One that he struggles with admitting.
“Not enough.”
“That’s a shame.” Kostya frowns. “I wish I could have been there with you instead of locked away in some fucking safehouse across the country. I wouldn’t have been so merciful.”
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t. Besides, I had more than enough backup to get the job done properly.”
“Really?” His eyes widen in surprise. “I would have thought you’d have preferred to do the task alone.”
Shit. Shit. I really slipped on that one.
“Who did you take?” Kostya presses, eyeing my driver and Lev in the front of the car and twisting his nose. “Not those two fuckers, that’s for sure. So who?”
“I got one of the Outfit’s best enforcers to lend a hand,” I offer in reply, as if it were no big deal.
Technically, it’s not even that far-fetched a lie. After watching Stella in action, I have no doubt that once she’s inducted into the syndicate, she’ll be a force of nature as an enforcer.
“You mean Marcello Romano?! Holy shit! Is it true what they say? Is he really touched in the head?” Kostya blurts out, looking way too excited to learn more about Stella’s older brother. “Rumor has it that he killed a guy with his bare teeth. Just bitinto his neck and pulled out his vocal cords. Man, to see him in action.”
“It wasn’t Marcello.” I clear my throat. “It was… um… his sister. Stella.”
A crease cuts across Kostya’s brow, confusion marred in his expression. “Since when does the Outfit induct women to their ranks?”
I press my lips together and pretend it was a rhetorical question, and not one he actually expects me to answer. I’ve said too much as it is.
“So…” Kostya muses, “looks like our big brother’s been keeping himself busy, if he’s deepening his alliance with the Outfit too. Doesn’t that worry you at all?”
“No. It’s none of our concern. He’s thePakhan, not me,” I state evenly.
“Well, the fuckingPakhanis making friends in all the wrong places. You think it’s none of our business, but I say it is. Don’t think for a second we’re not going to end up in the crosshairs of whatever plan he’s cooking up. If he reaches out to Romano for help in taking out Sergei, sooner or later, you’re the one who’s going to have to pick up the tab for that favor.”
Again, I keep silent, refusing to tell Kostya that Misha has no idea I brought Stella along for the ride.
“Look… I’m sorry, okay?” Kostya sighs, mistaking my discomfort for irritation. “I haven’t seen you in months, and since I’m here now, I’d much rather enjoy my time with you than think about whatever Machiavellian plan Misha is putting together. In a few days, we’ll be back in Moscow and won’t be able to unwind the way we want,” he adds, a mischievous grin now playing on his lips. “So take me to that fancy apartment of yours so I can shower and change. We can then go out and have some actual fun. Grab some food, get drunk, get laid… I’m not even picky about the order. How’s that sound, brother?”
“I know just the place.”
Chapter 10
Kirill
Five hours later, I’m sprawled on an expensive leather couch inside Giovanni DeLuca’s club, The Vault.After a steak dinner and too many vodka shots, Kostya is on the dance floor, grinding with three women who will no doubt end up back at my penthouse. I’m not exactly excited to fall asleep to the soundtrack of my little brother’s fuckfest, but after being confined for so many days back at the Triad safe house, I understand his need to blow off some steam.
I, on the other hand, am in no mood to follow suit. And I have only one person to blame for that—Stella-fucking-Romano.
It’s been eight days since I’ve laid eyes on the red-haired temptress. Eight whole fucking days with no word, no unannounced visit, not even a damn text.
I told myself she had to be the one to make the first move, especially after that little stunt she pulled, leaving me wanting and aching in a fucking garage lot. But like a sucker, I drove up to her school a few days ago just to catch sight of her, only to find out classes were closed for winter break.
I must be coming down with something if my last-ditch effort to see her brought me here, to her father’sconsigliere’sclub, no less. Yeah, I’m coming down with something alright, because every time I close my eyes, I swear I can feel her on me again… the sweet torturous heat of her mouth… the way her body vibrated with need on top of me… the small, helpless sounds she made against my lips when she came on my lap.
Blyad.One kiss and grind, and the woman bewitched me completely.
Rumor says her mother, the Red Queen, has the same kind of magic running through her veins. Magic potent enough to take her husband’sconsigliereand his head assassin to her bed, with Romano’s blessing.
