“We’ll plan tooffer a discounted rate on shipping in the northern part of the state to increase utilization of that market—”
“That’ll undercut the take from the families in the west.”
“The household team here will be more highly trained, but a smaller crew at any given time. This will allow re-distribution of men on a rotational basis, as I have no interest in living the lifestyle that Pavel did—”
“If you aren’t willing to play the game and host receptions for investors, you aren’t going to get nearly as far as you think you are with your grand plans.”
“Finally, our budget for extravagances will be decreased incrementally—”
“She wants us to live like paupers because that’s what she’s used to in her hovel in Florida.”
“That’s enough!” Barely resisting the urge to slam my hands on the mahogany conference table, I stay calm and collected, just as I was taught. Any reaction would be seen as fire in a man, but these misogynists would accuse me of being an emotional woman in a heartbeat. Never mind the fact that it’s men who yell, shoot, and beat women, and suffer from a complete inability to do anything but aggressively protect their egos.
The smug bastard mumbling a rebuttal to every statement I made smirks at me as I stand calmly and lean at the head of the table. Fucking Zakhar Zadorov. After the impromptu board meeting, Ivan warned me that he would be the main opposition to my takeover in New York. While the Thunder Bay contingent hid behind legal paperwork during my ousting, Zadorov has no reason other than his own prejudices to want me out. That, and his own ambition.
He turns now to the man next to him and speaks as if I had given him the outburst he tried to provoke.This fucking bastard…
“I cannot believe dear Ivan thinks that awomancan come up here and—”
“My final point of discussion for today is the enhancement of the widow and family funding. We’ll be utilizing the resources freed up from the aforementioned extravagances. Mr. Zadorov, if you don’t believe in my leadership or initiatives, you are more than welcome to leave. As is any other man here who questions my ability to lead this Bratva.”
He slowly stands, gathering his papers into his briefcase lazily. “Your father knew that it takes a man’s control and testosterone to hold the reins of an outfit this size. That’s why he went behind your back and wrote you out of everything while still allowingyou to peacock around down there and act like you were training to take over.”
He waits for me to give him a reaction, any reaction, to show that he’s under my skin. But my breathing is calm, there’s no hint of the blush of rage on my cheeks, and I revel in the tiny tells of his frustration: the squint of his eyes, the clench of his fist…Sure.I’mthe emotional one.
As he leaves the room, without a single man following him, he calls back over his shoulder for one last parting shot to try to rile me. “You know, you could marry my son. He’s around your age. I don’t think he’ll settle down, necessarily, but at least you could stay on as a consultant. With a man by your side, you might actually be able to get something done around here.”
With that, he’s gone, and the men who remain turn back to me. They see nothing but a calm, controlled visage that I’ve perfected over the years.Years I spent training for situations like these as my father plotted behind my back, just like Zadorov said.
“These changes, the financial forecasts, and the updated training programs for each of you to take back to your regions are all in the packets that you were handed upon arrival. I’ll take questions and commentsaftera twenty-four-hour period to allow you time to read it thoroughly and consider the informationcarefully. Does anyone have anything I need to know right now?”
Silence.
“Great. You all know how to contact me if you need anything.”
Sparring with Misha in the gym didn’t help. Throwing knives until the target board split in half didn’t help. And Misha’s raisedeyebrow before he left me alone, which managed to say “I told you that you need to get laid and you didn’t listen to me, now look at you,” didn’t help. My last-ditch effort for tonight was a long, steamy soak in the bathtub, but not even lavender epsom salt is enough to put a dent in my rage. Braiding my wet hair and wrapping myself in a fluffy robe, I reach for a bottle before realizing it’s almost empty.
Fuck,I’m drinking way too much these days.
Suddenly, every ounce of rage that I’ve so carefully kept dampened today, all the fire that Itried, reallytried,to get rid of through all my stupid fucking healthy channels, surges to the surface. With an animalistic, guttural scream, I launch the bottle at the wall, and the euphoria that floods my veins as it shatters is exhilarating.
Destruction. Why didn’t I think of that sooner?
Before I can unplug the glass lamp on my nightstand and damn it to the same fate as the bottle, the shared door I had hoped would never open again does so with a creak.
“Uh, Mila? Is everything okay?” The concern in Thatcher’s voice would be touching if it wasn’t accompanied by his shirtless torso coming through the cracked door. Who just barges into someone’s room like that?
“I’m fine, please go.”
Even facing the opposite direction, I can tell he’s not going. No, the aura of his presence that seems to have infiltrated more and more of my life lately is still present in this room. I canfeelhim.
“You don’t seem fine. Are you sure there’snothingI can do to help?”
When I turn around, this littleshithas made his way closer and is leaning against the back of the red leather couch that sits in front of the fireplace. He has the same flirty eyes he’s had forthe past week, and his abs flex in a way I’m sure he thinks is appealing.
“I don’t know what you think you can provide for me that I can’t obtain myself, but—”
“Maybe something onlya mancould do for you? Are you sure what you need isn’t a man?”
