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“Everyone out,” he forced out.

The men hesitated, looking at each other.

“Now,” Mancini snapped.

They moved quickly, the door swinging shut behind the last man.

Only the man Yuriy had injured remained behind. Yuriy had pulled out his knife, and Bruno was desperately trying to stem the flow of blood with a bandana.

The door closed, cloaking the room in silence. Mancini’s stare burned with resentment. “I requested to speak to you in good faith, and this is how you treat me?”

“Err, I don’t see you bleeding, so I’d say you have it pretty good.” Yuriy nodded to me. “Stas, take it away.”

“We both know the reason you requested this meeting was to flex your authority.” I shook my head slowly. “Your men question whether you should be in charge, so of course, you want to use this opportunity to put me in my place because if you show them you can deal with someone like me, they just might see you as competent enough for your position. But get this straight, Webster. You have no authority over me, and if you push me far enough, you might lose whatever authority you have left in this city. You don’t want to make an enemy out of me.”

Silence hummed in the space between us, and then⁠—

“Goddamn, Stanislav, this side of you is giving me a boner.” I glared at Yuriy, and he grinned. “Uff, I mean, continue. You were saying about letting me cut him up into tiny pieces…”

Mancini glanced from me to Yuriy and back to me, his features twisted in confusion as he tried to figure out what we were. “You killed my men,” he said, voice noticeably softer this time. “It’s only logical that you owe me an explanation.”

“I understand optics,” I said. “I also understand power. You have just come into leadership.” I let my tone soften but only slightly. “You are not in a position to demand answers from me. Neither is your family in a position where a war with mine would end well for you.

“Destabilization can happen quickly in a new regime. I have no interest in causing that. Unless provoked. Since your men attacked me first, then you’d agree that what followed was fair play? It’s either that, or I’ll wipe out every single one of you and make your family a memory soon forgotten.”

Mancini swallowed. “Well.” He cleared his throat. “Now that I know what really happened, I can see that this is all a misunderstanding. There’s no need for this to go further.”

A vein pulsed near Yuriy’s temple. He hated the diplomatic dance, and he was disappointed he didn’t get to spill more blood.

“Yes,” I said. “A misunderstanding.”

Mancini’s shoulders loosened with visible relief. “Good. Good. Then let us consider our relationship reset. No grudges.”

Bruno groaned, “But they killed my brother, and now he’s maimed my fucking hand.”

“Drop it,” Mancini barked, whipping around so fast the man flinched. “If your brother hadn’t acted without permission, none of this would have happened.”

He turned back to me, smiling again. “Zhukovsky. I think we got off on the wrong foot, but I’m glad we could work out the differences. Why don’t you stay for a while and enjoy the night? You are guests in my city after all, and I treat my guests well.”

I finally allowed myself to glance at Yuriy. His eyes were half-lidded, his mouth was relaxed, but every line of his body radiated suppressed violence. He wanted to say something, probably something that would undo the fragile truce I’d just stitched together. His teeth were clenched like he was tasting words he shouldn’t speak.

I gave the barest shake of my head.

Later. Not here.

Yuriy’s fingers curled slowly into a fist… then unclenched.

30

YURIY

Ikept telling myself I had no reason to be nervous while watching Stanislav Zhukovsky button up his coat like he was preparing for war instead of… whatever the hell this outing was supposed to be.

He hadn’t told me where we were going. Just muttered, “Be ready at seven. Dress warm.”

Which could describe anything from a date to a funeral.

Usually on Christmas Eve, I was in a club somewhere surrounded by beautiful things. I would wake up the next morning, sweating booze, and drained from too much sex and too few fucks to give. That was tradition, my own little holiday spiral. But after the tense exchange with Mancini yesterday, I’d been looking forward to spending a quiet evening together—In bed with Stas. Just us.