Page 34 of Violent Pawn

He returns though, expression still blank, and hauls me upright by my arm. Normally, I have a few more pounds on him and generally win hand-to-hand, but he’s wiping my ass and cleaning up the mess by the time I even think to dig my heels into the ground. A fruitless attempt on the tile, and he all but throws me against the island counter.

Then he grabs a glass and fills it with water from the fridge before sliding the offending liquid over. Clear liquid, besides vodka, is disgusting. Vanessa will need to bring the delicious liquid gold of her homeland the next time she visits.

“Drink this. All of it.”

For him, I take a sip. “Go to bed, Z. I’m fine.”

“Not until I see you drink that.” He nods to the glass. “When I said all of it, I’m not fucking kidding.”

Scowling, I tip the glass and drink it like a shot. It’s nowhere near the potency of my craving, but if it gets him to leave me alone, then I’ll do it singing fucking showtunes.

“Happy?”

“I’d be happier if my best friend didn’t drink himself halfway to death all the time.”

“That’s only a problem if I die.” Chuckling, I walk the edge of the counter to abandon the glass, then turn to the adjacent one with the liquor inside it.

Hence my issue. A huge problem. Gigantic. Letting go of the island will probably result in me falling on my face. Hm… Maybe Z will help me out.

With a deep sigh, he utters, “Fucking Christ, Nero. No. Go to bed before I toss you into rehab myself. This is getting too much.”

Bed. Bed I can do. I think. Not rehab, though. Fuck that shit.

“I’m fine. No program.”

“You’re not fine, and my threat was actually a suggestion.”

“I’ll break out of wherever you shove me.”

He sighs. “I know, and that’s the problem.”

No, the problem is that to get to bed, I’ll need to make it to the far wall. From there, I can use it to exit the kitchen, then eventually reach the stairs. Crawling those will get me to my room.

I can do this.

He sighs again and comes up beside me, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Let’s go. Sleep this shit off. That’s an order.”

With little struggle, he gets me into my bedroom and drops me onto my bed. Once he sees I won’t roll off, he turns to leave.

“You’re a good friend, Z. Vanessa’s lucky. Your dad would be really fucking proud to see the kind of man you’ve become.”

His silence fills the room when he shuts the door, and it’s in that silence I finish my sentence.

“If only I didn’t help speed along his death.”

19

ANASTASIA

December

Vanessa groans as she regards the four of us during our monthly meeting. “Can’t we elope instead?” she asks in response to Dimitri’s earlier question about her engagement. “There’s a reason those parties stopped.”

“Because you got tired of the stares and questions. You wanted to secure your rule before dealing with public displays. It’s been two years, and it’s time those in the upper circles see you prospering. An engagement party announcing your union with Mancini will be an ideal time.”

Bratva parties used to be the “grand” event everyone from the upper circles was thrilled to be included in. They used them to kiss Ursin’s ass and get in nice with him, while he peacocked around and benefitted from new deals. Usually illegal, but sometimes partnering with those who ran reputable businesses to use as fronts.

He also often invited those he wanted dealt with. That’s when Papa would assign my newest task, which meant I attended more of these than Vanessa did—forced into the guise of Papa’s innocent daughter. Lev and Dimitri attended almost all of them, both being sons to Elite members. They were dragged around to meet daughters of business partners, presented as possible future wives.