If I was as petty as he is, I’d make some offensive comment about how he blew so quick, or say something about his receding hairline, but I’m bone tired tonight. Sick of him, of the fucking games he loves playing, and the shit life I endure.
“Your friend called,” I say, not hiding how pissed off I am to be dragged into his dirty business.
His hand drops onto my shoulder, his fingers digging into the top of my shoulder until he finds the spot that sends shooting agony down my limbs.
Since the day I was born, he’s gone out of his way to remind me of my place—under him. His fingers press against the screws I needed to keep my bones in place, after he purposely and cruelly broke my collarbone. My muscles lock, but I control myself, keeping a bland expression on my face, despite the pain and humiliation coursing through my system.
When I lean into the pain, he stops being antagonistic. He turns and rests against the edge of the balcony, turning to face me.
“Soon, the ambassador will be family, Aleksei. You should be more hospitable when you speak of him, he opens many doors we didn’t even know existed.” He smiles like a hungry wolf, his real feelings regarding Victor evident in his unconcealed sarcasm.
Taking another sip of vodka, I swallow it, savoring the slow burn before answering him. “He is sending two guards for her and wants the wedding date pushed out.”
“Ahh, so you are telling me how things will be?”
I shake my head, disagreeing, while adding a false smile that he looks past. “You are Bratva for a reason, brother. Older,smarter, better-looking, according to some. He only called me after you didn’t answer any of his calls.”
Sergey’s grin suggests he’s aware of how many calls he has missed. Instead of calling Victor, he interrogates me like I’m the one challenging him.
“Was I supposed to leave the party? If her flight arrived when it was meant to, it could have been arranged, but I can’t be in two places at once. I was needed here, welcoming our associates and friends.”
“That’s true,” I murmur, spinning to rest against the balustrade next to him, dropping the volume I use. “It makes no sense he is blaming us because she was late. I meant no disrespect, but I called him out on being so distrustful of us. He’s azhopas ruchkoy.”
He hums, plucking my drink from my hand and swallowing the rest of it while he waits for me to argue. I find it more than amusing he doesn’t have an issue with me telling Victor he is an ass with a handle.
“I reiterated how disappointed you would be in his lack of faith. I explained in detail that what he did was disrespectful. And then I went on and spoke at length that perhaps he is the one without honor. He didn’t argue, perhaps he is having a hard time grasping our language. Regardless, he is sending guards to watch her.”
“And the wedding?”
“Delayed again. Now, instead of her age, he wants proof he can trust us. I told him we do not renegotiate once we have given our word. He told me to fuck a goat, with all that cultured eloquence of his.”
He’s quiet for a moment, letting the sounds of the entertainment float up to us, before he starts walking off. “An associate in Ireland has new product for us. I have a way toremind Victor how we work with or against our friends. And you get to do a favor for me.”
“Of course. What do you need me to do?”
“The head of the Irish, you know him?”
Of course I know who Paddy O’Connor is. Anyone in our business is aware of who their competition is. I have a thick dossier on almost every outfit operating in each country, along with known sympathizers in the greater community. I have a good handle on who is in power, who is about to lose power, what they export or specialize in. Some we do business with, others not. Most see us as the enemy, though.
“While Olga arranges our next shipment, you deal with the O’Connors. Only you, Aleksei. You are my Avtoritet for a reason. Take whoever else you need, but it is your personal duty to fulfill my request. I can trust you with the job, or maybe not?”
His slight is intentionally inciteful. He knows it, and I’ve come to expect it. Much like when he dug his fingers into my shoulder, I don’t rise to his provocation.
I stare through the open doors, at the portrait of my parents from before Sergey and I were born. Sergey got his flare for cruelty from my father.
“We will talk more in the morning, brother.” He starts to walk off, his phone already in his hand. “One more thing—you use the nextshlyukhaI send to your room, or I’ll make you fuck someone at our next business meeting for everyone to see. Da?”
Chapter Ten
QUINN
Aknock on my suite door should have worry pooling in my stomach, but I’d be more concerned if the hotel called up to my suite. It would be a sure sign Sergey Petrov has no respect on the streets. Honestly, if his people couldn’t bypass security measures and pull favors, it would tell me more about how others view him than if I did a poll on the streets.
My call to Victor was a test of both Petrov’s prominence as a criminal underworld figure and a reminder to my father of what I am willing to do.
Opening the door, I find three stone-faced guards surrounding the doorway, and one of them takes a step forward. “Ty poydesh' s nami.”
Google Translator picks up his words. Reading the screen, “you are to come with us,” has me smirking.
