Sergei wraps his arm around his wife a little too tight, and she offers us a nervous smile. “Do you know Luca Moretti? He is—was—a good pianist. Such a shame he lost his hand,” he says, not sounding disappointed in the slightest. “I, for one, couldn’t stand him. Too arrogant.” He cocks his head. “I wonder if you’ll turn out to be the same.”
Daria throws him a concerned look. “Sergei…”
“No, no, I’m just asking. After all, we’re talking about an outsider. I don’t know how these people are raised.”
These people?
Fire pools low in my stomach, scurrying up my veins. My hand tightens on Mikhail’s arm as I watch Sergei with a smile. I hate confrontation. And yet, I can’t let this man insult my heritage and my family—my deadmother. How dare he?
“Well, I can tell you I was raised to be polite and give people the benefit of the doubt when they say something that isn’t right. But since I married into the Bratva, I gained the courage to tell a man when he’s being an asshole. And you, Mr. Malevsky, are behaving just like one,” I say.
Sergei laughs—short, snappy, and incredulous—as he looks at Mikhail. “You’re going to let her talk to me like this?Blyat…it’s obvious she hasn’t seen the back of your palm.”
For a moment, my husband keeps silent, and everyone around us, save for Sergei, of course, seems to be holding their breath. Instead of a verbal response, Mikhail pulls out a checkbook and a pen from the chest pocket of his suit and begins filling one out.
“Where do you buy your dresses, Daria? Prada, Versace?” my husband asks.
Eyes wide, Daria looks up at her husband and then back at Mikhail, letting out a nervous laugh. “Yes to both. Why are you asking?”
“Good, good.” Mikhail rips the check from the stack and slaps it against Sergei’s chest. His gaze is calm, amused even, as he looks the man in the eye. “That’s twenty thousand dollars for you. Take your wife shopping tonight. Buy her a black dress. Maybe some black gloves…or a black veil for your funeral.”
My breath stops in my lungs, my brows furrowed in worry. He can’t be serious?—
Sergei snorts, fisting the check. “If I were the kind of man who got nervous at every empty threat, I wouldn’t have joined the Bratva. I plan on living a long, abundant life, Mikhail.”
“Ah. But you know what they say about plans.” Mikhail smiles, shrugging. “Life rarely appreciates being told what to do. You insulted my wife. Now it’s only fair I make yours a widow.”
He takes my hand from his arm and holds it, leading me away from the small group.
“Have a good evening,” he tells the others. “Or what’s left of it.”
29
Mikhail
That fucking imbecile.
By the time we’re back home and I’m crossing into the other wing to Wolf’s office, my mind is still on what Sergei said to my wife. I knew he was a piece of shit, but to attack her right there, in front of me, was downright stupid. I may have removed Cecilia from the situation, but the night’s still young.
Our law states that once a Bratva gathering has ended, hunting any brother down for retaliation is fair game, and I’m in the mood to play.
I send a text to both Rodion and Niko and then shove my phone in my pocket, opening the door to the office.
“You’re here. Good,” Wolf says, crossing his arms.
This job seems to be taking a toll on his body. Ever since he came back from his honeymoon, he’s gone so hard at this nonsense, he now has dark circles under his eyes.
“Are you ever going to sleep? You should.” I plop down into a leather chair.
“I don’t need sleep. What I need is the other half of Chicago back.”
I suck in a dramatic breath, leaning back in my seat. “Any news on that Remus guy?”
After torturing his partner a while ago in the warehouse, I passed the info on to Wolfgang so he could get his team of hackers to track him down.
“He’s in the States, last seen in LA. I was surprised to see the size of his group. For someone who supposedly found out he was a mafia heir only recently, he sure as fuck has plenty of soldiers willing to die for him. I wasn’t able to find out who’s helping him.”
“I’ll go to him. Easier to figure out his plans if someone’s on the ground.”
