“Yes, sir.”
I looked up at the sky and held back a litany of curses.
“Both Maksim and Alexei, sir,” he confirmed.
“Fuckers…” I muttered.
“Would you like me to tell the other driver to turn around?” he asked.
“Don’t bother,” I replied as I put the partition up again.
If I ordered the driver to take them back, they’d get in another car and drive themselves.
Adrik:I need to handle this immediately. To show anyone else that we’re not weak or to be messed with even now.
Alexei:Agreed. But you WILL look weak if you don’t rely on us too.
Alexei:I’m not stepping on your toes.
I typed quickly.
Adrik:You wouldn’t give a fuck about stepping on my toes.
Alexei:I wouldn’t.
I exhaled harshly through my nose.
Alexei:That doesn’t mean I won’t follow your orders. I will never hold back on calling you out on being stupid, though.
Alexei:And it’s stupid for you to go handle this on your own. If Uncle Dmitri were still fully in power, he’d bring backup. He’d go to see Morovov with Maksim.
I hated that he was right.
My father never turned down help from us. He would’ve brought Maksim and probably me and Alexei too. We were always stronger as a unified front.
I should know that.
I rubbed my brow, too stressed to berate myself for being too rash. The urgency remained, but I shouldn’t have been so closed-minded as to assume that I, alone, had to be the one to punish Morovov to avoid our seeming weak.
When we reached the firm, I exited the car and turned to face the other SUV that braked behind us. Alexei stepped out, his face gargoyle-like as ever. Maksim got out after him. He glanced at me, perhaps slightly concerned I’d be pissed that he’d come along after I’d told him no.
It wasn’t worth it. They weren’t insubordinate.
You’ll learn. You’ll figure out how to handle who does what and when to allow help.
Without a word, they joined me and we stalked inside the medium-sized, one-story office building. Outdated features added to its ugliness, but inside, it looked adequate enough. Office workers gawked at us from cubicles, and a pregnant secretary tried her best to smile and look professional. “Hello, gentlemen. Do you have an appointment?”
I grunted, amused that this stupid woman would think that we needed one.
“They don’t need one,” John Morovov said, butting in as he jogged to the small receptionist area of the open floorplan. “Mr. Volkov.” He nodded at each of us, smiling like he was a gracious host and not a dead man walking. “It’s a pleasure to have you visit the firm.”
“You sure about that?” I asked wryly as I skewered him with a scathing glare.
His smile froze, but he didn’t break into a sweat. “Uh, this way, please, gentlemen.”
I shared a look with Alexei.Gentlemen? He was either delusional or fucked in the head if he could think we’d be anything close to gentle here. After decades of working with his family’s financial firm, and his being all too aware that we weren’t a run-of-the-mill client, he was way off the mark with his assessment.
Or maybe he’s that fucking dumb to try to entertain himself with a joke.
