Luca chuckled. “If I were replacing someone, you’d know it. You’d be down a kneecap by now.”
No one laughed.
I maintained a relaxed posture—but hardened my gaze.
“Let’s be real clear,” I warned. “Ana might be on the West Coast, but this club’s still partially hers. And until she says otherwise, I’m the one taking care of her share of the business.”
Luca didn’t blink. “I see,” he said, steepling his fingers in front of his chest.
I leaned in. “Especially now that she’s pregnant.”
A beat of silence passed before the revelation landed.
Lachlan’s brows shot up. “She’s pregnant?”
Julian turned away from the window, staring at me in surprise. Gabriel gave a low whistle. Lucian muttered something that sounded like “Jesus.”
“Well, that was fast,” Lachlan added. “Are she and Conan even married?”
“Not yet,” I said. “But he treats her like his queen—and that’s all that matters. There’s no one I trust more with her life than Conan Thorin and his brothers. They know how to protect what’s theirs.”
Lucian gave a single nod at that. Lachlan looked less convinced but didn’t push.
I went on. “Ana and the Thorins don’t want this lifestyle. They’ve stayed out of it, and they plan to keep it that way. But they’re not naïve. They know what world Ana came from. They know the drill—and the danger.”
Luca gave a satisfied little hum, leaning back deeper in the chair. “Pregnancy’ll keep her occupied. Probably a good thing. While she’s playing house out west, we can keep the real business here running without distraction.”
My jaw clenched, but I didn’t take his bait.
Then Luca smiled smugly. “Speaking of domestic bliss… I heard the quiet Thorin—Braxton, right?—found himself a woman while staying with you over the summer. Got married even.”
I didn’t answer right away.
The others turned their attention to me again, surprised.
Luca sat back as if he’d tossed a grenade and was eager to watch the reaction.
I leveled a glare at him. “Yeah. Braxton married an amazing woman. A photographer. Name’s Dasha.”
I didn’t offer more.
Luca’s eyes gleamed. “That right?”
“Yeah.” My tone was final. I didn’t want anyone other than Luca and the Thorins knowing that Dasha was the new identity I’d cooked up for Braxton’s wife Daria, a former Russian spy turned Ukrainian double agent. “That’s right.”
He didn’t push it. But he didn’t need to. The message was clear—he knew exactly what a ticking time bomb Alexey Melnichenko’s daughter was. Daria and Ana might want to stay out of the underworld, but it always had a way of dragging people back down into it. And with Alexey being the Pakhan ofmy bratva’s greatest rivals in Russia and teaming up with my wayward mother, who the fuck knew what the future held?
Luca liked to stir the pot, liked to make sure I knew my place—at least within our syndicate here in the States.
His lips curled into a wolfish grin. “You’ve got problems, Nikolai. Lots of problems.” He narrowed his eyes on me as he let those words sit between us.
I didn’t flinch, just held his gaze.
“I’m not sure I want to hitch my legacy to a man dragging so much shit behind him,” Luca said after a moment. “Arms shipments getting hit. Delgado making moves. Your mother going rogue and cozying up with Alexey Melnichenko. Not to mention your little spinning distraction.” He tilted his head. “That’s a cocktail for disaster, don’t you think?”
The room stilled again.
The others had little knowledge of what Luca referred to but could obviously sense the conversation had taken a dark turn.
