Don’t get me wrong, I’d take a bullet for the man, but sometimes I wonder if he’s gone soft.
No, it’s all this damn “love” garbage screwing everything up.
“Just doing my job,” I say, my voice flat. “Luka’s still thePakhan. I’m just holding down the fort until he decides to come back.”
The pig laughs, a grating sound that sets my teeth on edge. “Of course, of course. Family first, eh? That’s the Russian way.”
I grunt in response, my eyes scanning the room. The waitress returns with a bottle of vodka and two more glasses. She bends over to place them on the table, her barely-there top leaving little to the imagination. The pig leers at her, his tongue practically hanging out of his mouth.
I look away, disgusted. This whole scene… it’s not my style.
I’m not cut out for this schmoozing and small talk. That’s Erik’s department. But with him out of town on business, I’m left to play the diplomat.
The waitress bends further down, leaning closer, her ample cleavage nearly spilling out of her tiny top. She places a cocktail napkin in front of me, her red lacquered nails grazing my hand. “Enjoy your drinks, gentlemen,” she purrs, her eyes locked on mine.
I meet her gaze, unflinching.
She’s pretty enough, in a generic, surgically enhanced sort of way. But it’s the way she’s eye-fucking me that catches my attention. Her eyes drift down to my crotch, her tongue darting out to wet her painted lips. It’s an invitation, one I’m sure she extends to every halfway decent-looking guy who comes through here.
I ignore thesuka, reaching for the bottle of Beluga Noble vodka on the table.
Pouring a hefty shot, I down that shit in one go, savoring the burn as it scorches my throat and sets my chest on fire.
A harsh sound escapes me.
The waitress fakes a giggle, seeking my attention; she hovers around me, hip cocked like she’s offering up her cunt on a silver platter.
But fuck that, I’m not biting.
I’ve got bigger things on my mind than a quick fuck in the back room with a girl whose name I won’t remember in the morning.
She pouts, those dick-sucking lips glistening. With a shrug, she sways off, ass bouncing like it’s got a mind of its own. The pig’s eyes are glued to it, practically drooling.
“Now that’s what I call service,” he grunts, choking down his scotch.
Politics can suck my dick.Poshol na khuy, I fucking despise this shit.
Slamming back another shot of vodka, the harsh burn fuels the rage festering in my chest.
Yob tvoyu mat,Erik, you cocksucking piece of shit. Leaving me to wade through this cesspool while you’re out there, probably balls-deep in some trophy cunt. I can see your smug face now, laughing it up while I’m stuck in this hellhole.
And here I am, playing nice with this sweaty sack of lard. All for some fucking connections to keep the Bratva’s wheels greased. Politics can suck my dick.
Poshol na khuy, I’m a soldier, not some ass-kissing diplomat. But here I am, nodding along like thismudak’severy word is fucking gospel.
It’s all for the Bratva. For the empire Luka’s old man built from scratch. He croaks, hands it all to Luka on a silver platter.
And what does thatdurakdo? Falls in love. What a crock of shit.
My jaw clenches thinking about thatsuka. Brother from another mother since we were punk kids. Now? I barely recognize the soft bastard.
I remember when he dropped the bomb, telling us he was bowing out, leaving me and Erik to run the show while he played house in fucking Hawaii.
I wanted to knock some sense into him, but one look in those eyes and I knew. No changing his mind.
But what can I do? He’s thePakhan. His word is law, even if I think he’s gone soft in the head.
Can’t let it all go to shit now.
