"Good," he straightens his jacket, and I see the man I married. The one who beat a man nearly to death and laughed.
I'm worried. That man is unpredictable, and right now, we need Saint the Don. Not the enforcer.
"Saint—" I caution.
He kisses me softly. "It'll be fine."
His hand goes to my lower back, and he guides me back to the parlor.
We enter together.
Artem is still sitting. Still smiling.
"Saint Marini. What a pleasure." He doesn't stand, and I know it's on purpose. He's showing Saint he's in control. It's a slap to Saint's leadership. "I've heard so much about you."
"Orlov." Saint's voice is ice. "You're a long way from home."
"Yes, well. I had business in New York. Thought I'd pay my respects." His eyes slide to me. "And meet the woman who did what I've been trying to do for years."
"And what's that?"
Artem's smile widens.
"Killed Alexei Morozov, of course."
CHAPTER 25
Gemma
The door closes behind Saint.
Artem just laid his cards on the table, and we blinked. Sure, it wasn't a literal blink, but I know I'm white as a ghost, and Saint is gripping the thin skin of my back so hard, that I know he is going to leave bruises.
"Get out," Saint takes a step forward. "Get out of my home, or I'll make sure you leave in a body bag."
Artem doesn't even blink. He's not scared of Saint. Saint, a well-known, celebrated, killer, a man that people have whispered about, and Artem just stares at him, looking slightly bored and even a little bit amused.
That scares me because what the fuck. Who comes into someone else's home, filled with their guards, and sits there with a smirk.
I press my hand harder against Saint's back, a subtle pressure. Stop. I try to say without words. This is not a situation in which he should lose control, and yet, he is determined to do just that. I can feel it.
"What do you want?" I ask, my voice as steady as I can make it. I channel Bianca. She was never frazzled. Someone could have a gun to her coiffed head, and she would smile, and ask how theylike their tea. She'd also lace it with poison and make sure to blow their dick off, but I'm all out of those tricks.
"Direct. I like that." Artem leans back and studies me. There's something in his eyes that puts me on edge but also makes me feel powerful. He's taking me seriously, at least, more than he is Saint. "Alexei always preferred women who simpered. Pretended to be helpless. It made him feel powerful."
"Alexei's dead," I remind him. I'm not even sure where the hell he is going with all this.
Saint is breathing loudly next to me. He can't think. He's like a rabid dog. Not that Artem pays him much attention.
He's here for me.
Saint, I suspect, is just the person who will be able to give him whatever the hell he wants. After all, I have no real power.
"Yes. You made sure of that." His eyes are cold. Calculating. "Tell me. How did it feel?"
The question catches me off guard. "What?"
"Don't talk to my wife," Saint snaps. "You are here to talk to me. We are men?—"
