This time all three men moved.
Gregor grabbed the edge of the table like he might flip it. Artem took another step forward, only Mikhail's hand on his shoulder stopping him. And Mikhail—calm, controlled Mikhail—clenched his jaw so tight I could hear his teeth grind from across the room.
"Say another word about Nadia," Mikhail said, his voice deadly quiet, "and her uncle or not, I will put a bullet in your fucking skull."
The threat hung in the air. Heavy. Real.
I met his gaze without flinching. Held it. Let the silence stretch until the tension was nearly unbearable.
Then I smiled. Slow. Cold.
I held up my hand, demanding silence.
"I don't give a shit about any of your marriages. Keep your families, keep your wives, bury yourselves in them every single fucking night, and have a hundred screaming brats. It is completely irrelevant to me.As long as the business doesn't suffer."
"It's not that simple," Gregor said. His voice was strained, forced calm over barely restrained violence. "Our priorities?—"
"Are fucked," I finished for him. "You are so lost in the now that you've completely negated the future. You say that your wives and children are now more important than the family enterprise, but you forget they are part of this family too. What are you going to leave your children?"
My question was met with silence.
Gregor's hands slowly uncurled from the table's edge.
Artem's breathing evened out.
Mikhail remained standing, watchful, his hand never straying far from his weapon.
"How are you going to protect those pretty wives of yours when the other families realize that you're distracted? Dealing with the Colombians bought you some time...but not forever. And while our enemies gather their intel, their forces, and they make a plan against us, we are weaker because you are letting a fucking US senator walk all over us."
Gregor's fist slammed into the table again. A coffee cup jumped, tipped, black liquid spreading across the scattered papers.
No one moved to clean it.
"So you put a bomb around her daughter's neck?" Gregor snapped.
CHAPTER 13
DARIUS
"That does seem a bit extreme," Artem agreed, finally regaining some of his cold, detached control.
"I wouldn't have had to do anything if you hadn't let it get this bad."
"What did I do?" Mikhail said under his breath.
"You married my niece without a syndicate of your own. That puts your ass at this table." I met his eyes. "I may not have chosen or approved your union, but you are here now, and you will serve this family in a greater capacity than you have been."
A moment of understanding passed between us. Mikhail's jaw tightened, but he nodded once. Sharp. Accepting.
I'd just given him what Gregor and Artem had denied him—real power at this table.
I turned back to Artem and Gregor.
"I allowed you to run the business as you saw fit, provided it did not negatively impact the bottom line or our standing in the international community. Now our profits are down, and the other families are whispering. This ends now—with violence if necessary."
"You are being shortsighted," Gregor said. "We need the senator."
I shifted in my chair, annoyance crawling up my spine.
