Artem brushes him off. "Your wife has proven herself capable of sitting at the table, no?"
I straighten my shoulders. Saint notices and glares.
Please, keep quiet, I beg him mentally.
I can handle Artem. "What is your question?"
"Killing him. How did it feel?" He's genuinely curious. "Your first kill, I assume?"
I don't answer. He's trying to back me into a corner. So far, I've admitted nothing, and I don't plan to give in now. I don't know what his game is, but I'm not playing.
"I remember mine," he continues. "I was sixteen. My father's business partner tried to have him killed. Failed. Father asked me to handle it." He smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. "I was terrified. My hands shook. But when it was done, when I sawhim bleeding out—" He pauses, closes his eyes in pleasure, lost in the memory. "I felt powerful. For the first time in my life."
"Is there a point to this?" I ask, pretending to be bored. "We have things to attend to."
"The point is that I understand." He leans forward, trying to appear open. Doesn't work. There's nothing soft about this man. "Alexei was a horrible man. He did bad things. Killing him was necessary." His voice goes low, and his eyes glaze over slightly. "There are a long line of women who lacked your strength, and they paid for it."
"What do you want?" Saint asks, sensing I need him.
This time Artem turns to my husband. He's done baiting me, for now, anyway. I'm sure that he will be back at it.
"Power." He says it simply. Honestly. "I want what Alexei had. What he wasted. The New York Bratva. Access to the ports. The operations. The family."
"Igor is next in line," Saint says.
"Igor." Artem's voice is dismissive. "Igor is Alexei's dog. No better."
Saint grits his teeth. "I have no bearing on the succession."
"True," Artem says. "From what I hear, you barely held on to your own crown."
"How is it that we can help you?" I ask. I want this man out of our house. Saint seems to have gathered his control, but Artem is putting me on edge. "You clearly came here with some sort of plan."
"Igor is well liked. Taking his spot will be bloody. I need to bring something to the table."
He looks at Saint.
"I want fifty percent of your business."
Saint snorts. "No, fucking way."
Artem shrugs. "Then I'll have little choice but to share with the family how your pretty little wife has started a war." His eyesdon't leave Saint. "Tell me, do you think the other families will come to your aid. After all, the Neros have disowned her, and well…we all know where the Neros go, most follow."
"I can handle the Russians."
"I've seen your work," Artem nods in grudging respect. "The question is can you hold onto the family while doing it?"
Saint hesitates, just slightly. He's quiet, tense, and I know he's thinking about the vote. He's just starting to come into his own as Don, and now…this would ruin him.
Guilt gnaws at my stomach. I did this.
Artem places his phone on the table. "Perhaps, you need an incentive."
The footage is grainy but clear. Me entering Eclipse. Timestamp: 1:47 PM.
I don't leave. I'm not on camera anywhere. It's not a smoking gun, but it's enough to get people asking questions. At worst, everyone will know I was there when Alexei died, at best, this makes Saint look like a cuck. Either way, we lose.
My stomach drops.
