Silence fell over the room. Grey looked at me with exasperation.
Vince suppressed a chuckle, and Cristo’s eyebrows rose. The tension in the room tightened another notch.
Grey laughed coldly. “I think our Ivan has lost his manners, along with his mind.”
I tensed.
Anton shot me a warning glance. Roman subtly shifted his position, ready to take over the conversation or restrain me if necessary. They’d seen me let go of control before. They knew what I was capable of. Even if it had been decades.
Not that I was anywhere near losing control.
“Interesting to see you here, Uncle,” Vince addressed Marcus directly. “Especially since we did not know the Paraskia Syndicate even existed until recently.”
Tension crackled as Marcus responded with practiced ease. “Some things are better kept secret, nephew.”
I recognized the power play happening. “What exactly is your relationship to the Paraskia, Mr. Moretti? I don’t recall seeing your name in any official capacity.” My voice had gone soft, almost gentle. Those who knew me well knew this was when I was most dangerous.
But both of my brothers relaxed.
Alex and Cristo exchanged evaluating glances.
Marcus didn’t answer directly, but I could see from Vince’s expression that he caught my meaning. This man wasn’t Paraskia. He was something else entirely.
My mind bounced from strategic assessment back to concern for Shorty. Where was she right now? Was she okay?
I pulled my thoughts back again. This was not the time to split my attention like this. How did she hijack my brain so that I couldn’t even go fifteen minutes without thinking of her? Not even in a situation like this?
It hadn’t even been a week of knowing her, and it had been a single night, but I’d kill for her. I’d die for her.
What the fuck was wrong with my brain?
Well, one thing was wrong for sure. I was stuck here, posturing with these assholes, when I actually wanted to be by her side, take her in my arms, and ask her what was going on.
I got up just as Moretti was about to speak and cut in with unexpected sharpness: “Why don’t we focus on getting ready for the storm and discuss the matters at hand in the morning?”
The room fell silent at my tone. Grey studied me with newfound interest, his eyes narrowing slightly. Even he recognized the signals of me being at the end of my rope now.
Moretti smiled. “You seem particularly concerned about this storm, Mr. Zotov? Or is it something else that makes you so anxious?” His face transformed into something that looked more like a snake than a human being. “A certain curvy young woman, maybe?” He raised his eyebrows and gestured as if he was following Shorty’s curves. “With a brain too smart for her own good?”
That was enough. My control snapped like a steel cable under too much strain. In one fluid motion, I was across the table, my hand around Moretti’s throat, pinning him against the wall. The move was so fast that even Anton couldn’t intercept.
Clean. Efficient. Deadly, if I chose. And incredibly stupid.
“Zotov!” Grey barked. “What the hell?”
I ignored him, tightening my grip slightly. “Whatever you’re insinuating, whatever game you’re playing, ends now.” My voice was barely above a whisper, and I got rightinto his face. I could feel his pulse hammering against my palm.
Moretti didn’t struggle; his eyes were calculating despite his compromised position. “Fascinating. Grey told me you were his best operative. The perfect soldier. No feelings, no emotions. Yet here you are, losing control over a woman.”
I leaned closer, my lips near his ear. “I’ve killed men for less than looking at someone wrong.”
Vince was on his feet; he rounded the table and stood right next to us, but he made no move to stop me. Cristo shifted closer, watching with interest rather than alarm. Anton placed a firm hand on my shoulder. “Brother,” he said quietly in Russian. “Not here. Not now. There will be time for blood later.”
I released Moretti, stepping back with the fluid grace of a predator feigning retreat.
He straightened his collar, tried to appear unfazed, but I could smell the fear on him now. Good. He should be afraid.
I could also see how Grey looked at me as if he’d never seen me before. Good. I was done with his bullshit. And I wouldn’t even start taking Moretti’s bullshit.
