“It’s obvious on purpose,” Kai says before I can be bothered. “It shows confidence. Besides, you say that about everything expensive.”
“It shows ego,” Maksim shoots back. “And expensive things are usually built by cunts who invite massacres.”
I almost smile. “Behave, Maksimka.”
Maksim’s grin flashes in the rearview mirror—all scar, teeth, and bad intentions. “That sounds suspiciously like a request, not an order.”
“It’s an order now,” I drawl.
The hotel grows larger as we approach; its entrance is blocked by black SUVs and what seems to be private security. The car slows beneath the hotel canopy, and I catch my reflection in the tinted glass before the door opens.
Dark suit, white shirt, black tie, expression carved into the same one I’ve worn into execution chambers and parliament back halls alike. My eyes are colder than Ruslan’s, even though I earned a scar matching his in a fight years ago.
I look like what I am now—Pakhan. Not heir, not son, not a weapon pointed by another hand. I’m a fucking empire with a pulse.
“You didn’t sleep,” Kai remarks, not as a question.
“On planes?” I reply. “You know better.”
His gaze flickers over my face for signs of fatigue or anything more. He doesn’t ask the question he really wants to ask:Did you dream?
I did. I’ve had the same dreams for the last five years, and they get worse when I’m under pressure. I never remember enough upon waking to make sense of them. Just fragments that leaveme pissed off, half-hard, and furious—which is a particularly insulting combination to wake up to when the face is always out of reach.
A hand braced against a wall beside my head. Smoke. Rows of books. The low burn of amber lamplight. A gun against my neck while I laugh. A man close enough to ruin my breathing, and familiar enough that I never panic in the dream. Sometimes we’re fighting. Sometimes we’re fucking. Sometimes the line between those two things is too thin to separate.
I wake up before I can see his face, but the same line echoes in my head each time.
“You undo me, Nikolaj.”
When I asked the doctors about the gaps in my memory, they gave me platitudes:
Trauma. The brain protecting itself. Fragmented recall. Head injuries can erase months or even years. Sometimes they come back, sometimes they don’t.
When I asked my family, they gave me even less.
“Some things are better left alone,”Ruslan said in that irritated, dismissive way, as if I misplaced a watch instead of losing months of my life.
“Don’t dig. Please,”Arseniy said then, his hand firmly on my shoulder, and his tone uncharacteristically soft.
Now, Arseniy doesn’t say anything to me at all.
The car door opens, and I step out, buttoning the front of my jacket. Kai and Maksim are beside me a second later, immediately slotting into place on either side of me.
The entrance hall is marble, brass, and muted light. There are no visible cameras, which means they are everywhere.
Staff in black move around us with lowered eyes, while security lines the perimeter in tasteful clusters. They’re all pretending allegiance to hospitality, while carrying enough hardware beneath their jackets to start a small war.
Gabriel Ardelean owns this hotel—including half of Romania’s underworld—and is in no way affiliated with any member of the Five Families. I would know, since I fuck him on occasion and have enough blackmail on his family to bury him.
I watch exits, cameras, mirrored surfaces, weapon bulges, and the light hitch in the concierge’s breathing when he realizes who I am. My shoes sound too loud on the polished floor, or maybe everyone has just gone that quiet.
That same concierge hurries forward, a trim man in his fifties with a perfect tie and a nervous smile.
“Mr. Dragovich,” he says in English, offering a hand. “Welcome to the Ardelean. It’s always a pleasure seeing you.”
I take his hand briefly, just enough to be polite. “My men are already here. They’ll have arranged everything.”
“Yes, of course,” he says quickly. “Your suite is prepared, and the conference level is secured as you requested. The other parties have taken to their rooms to freshen up. May I offer you some refreshments before—”
