Page 34 of Mafia King’s Dangerous Vow

Expensive charcoal suit. Silver hair combed back. Face composed into the pleasant neutrality of a man who has never once apologized and meant it.

Two of his men remain outside.

Good.

I would have thrown them out anyway.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Kalinin says.

“You are,” Igor replies.

Kalinin smiles slightly. “Then I’ll be brief.”

He crosses the room with the ease of a man entering territory he already believes he owns. He reads the maps, the photographs, the port markings in one pass. Notices everything. Says nothing.

Dangerous.

I don’t stand. Neither does Igor. Yakov leans back in his chair and watches.

Kalinin chooses me next. “Aleksander. How is my daughter settling in?”

Not how is Tamara. Not is she well. How is she settling. As if she’s furniture delivered to the wrong address.

“She’s adjusting,” I say.

“Tamara has always been dramatic about change.”

The sentence is mild. That is what makes it ugly.

“She didn’t look dramatic at the church,” I say. “She looked afraid.”

Kalinin’s smile doesn’t move. “Brides usually are.”

“No,” I say evenly. “Not like that.”

Annoyance flickers in his eyes. He moves closer to the table, glancing down at the photos. “You have Colombian movement.”

“We do.”

“My Rotterdam contact flagged two forged provenance packets this morning,” he says. “Both routed through shell firms we’ve seen before. They’re trying to create parallel documentation before they have access to the goods.”

Igor’s posture changes. “Names?”

Kalinin slides a folded paper from his jacket and sets it on the table.

“Three firms. Two handlers. One customs broker who should be retired before he becomes expensive.”

Too useful. That’s Kalinin’s talent. He enters a room carrying the thing everyone needs and lets them hate him for needing it.

Igor takes the paper. “This is verified?”

“I don’t bring rumors to family.”

Family. He places the word on the table and waits for one of us to pick it up.

I look at him. Kalinin meets my gaze smoothly. “We are family now, are we not?”

“By contract,” I say.