The human was quick to jump in. “Rush orders are usually at least twenty-five percent more.”
“Twenty-five percent more of seven million euros…” Oleg let the figure linger for a moment, then looked at Charles again.
“That would be nearly nine million,” the human said quietly, glancing at Ivan, whose jaw was clenched.
“Thank you, Charles.” Oleg shook his head. “You don’t have to pay me back for the trucks, Vanya.”
Ivan looked like he wanted to explode when Oleg used the affectionate nickname.
As if Oleg were the older brother, cleaning up Ivan’s messes.
Oleg felt his brother’s amnis surge through the room, and Ivan’s sons all shifted in their seats, knowing their sire would likely take out his rage on them since killing Oleg wasn’t an option.
Oleg felt his own amnis dance with gleeful satisfaction, and the air around him moved as the fire settled under his skin.
He lifted his chin and pursed his lips a bit, reveling in Ivan’s silent rage. “I simply wanted to make sure the matter was settled before the Báthory Summit next month.”
“I have plans to attend.” Ivan said. “There are some contracts in need of a personal touch.”
“Excellent.” Oleg spread his hands and smiled a little bit. “I do love when my governors take the initiative. Who are you meeting with?”
The Báthory Summit, a large-scale meeting of immortals from Eastern Europe and Asia, took place once every two years in Budapest, hosted by descendants of the House of Báthory, a notable clan of human leaders with more than a few vampire relations.
It was a chance for vampires to meet, align business interests, and party like it was still the medieval era. There would be balls and concerts, dances, and lots and lots of willing donors to drink from.
Ivan didn’t look like he wanted to tell Oleg anything about his meetings, but as much as it grated on Ivan, Oleg was his superior.
“I’m meeting with some suppliers,” he said. “A few distributors.”
Oleg’s eyebrows went up. “How vague.”
Ivan glanced at the four vampires on either side. “Perhaps we could speak privately.”
“That’s an excellent idea.” Oleg glanced at Mika, then at Ludmila, and the two rose and silently left the room. Charles andOksana followed them, leaving Oleg alone with Ivan and his four boys.
Oleg glanced at the four men, then cocked his head.
The men trembled, looking at Ivan for permission to leave.
Ivan lifted his chin in an arrogant gesture, pointing the men toward the door.
When they were alone, Ivan turned to him. “Do you enjoy being an arrogant asshole?”
Oleg leaped across the table, his fangs bared, and gripped Ivan around the throat, shoving him against the back wall, and snarled into his ear.
“Do you enjoy being alive?” He let the fire come to his skin, rippling over his forearms and teasing the fingers that held Ivan around his throat. “Do you enjoy embarrassing ourblood, brother?”
Ivan raised his hand in a fist, and Oleg speared him with a challenging glare.
Do it. Give me a reason.
Ivan raising a hand in aggression toward his knyaz would be all the excuse Oleg needed to end his brother before he could take another breath. And from Ivan’s mood before the others had left the room, no one would be surprised.
The ground beneath his feet was alive, the earthen floor as much a part of Ivan as his belligerence.
But the fire belonged to Oleg.
Do it. End him now as you should have centuries before.
