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“That’s up to me to decide.”
Roman sat back in his chair and tapped his chin a few times.
“Do you know how your grandfather died?”
“A bullet.” I’d heard about it, but it wasn’t anyone’s favorite story to tell.
“He was shot by a scorned man.” Ah, this is where he was going. “Alexei Popov is not a big player, he’s nothing compared to our famiglia, but he’s rich and hates being taken for a fool. This could make him dangerous.”
“I can handle an overweight drunk with half a brain, but I don’t want to screw Dad over because of it.”
“We want Popov to be a middleman. Look, he’s not part of our world. He made his money because he owns gas lines back in Russia, and he’s as corrupt as they come. The man has some friends in the Bratva, some of which are really interested in working with the Nucci family. They have the product, and we have the infrastructure to move it around.”
“What are we talking about?”
“Guns, military grade equipment, things like that. Popov came to us offering to make contact.”
“Just like that? Can he be trusted?”
“Oh, yes, we checked him.”
“I see. So, the deals could still work without him if it gets to that. Popov is just here to grease the wheels.”
“It’d better not get to that, son.” It might, if he decides to use Ludmila as a show pony ever again. “Think with your head.”
“I’m not going to do anything stupid, ok? I’m not a fucking idiot, and I’m not fifteen anymore.”
“There’s the Nucci blood running through your veins. You’re right, you’re not a kid anymore. I didn’t call you here to tell you what women you can or cannot see, Enzo, but you need to watch your step, son. Popov is a piece of shit and a cocky idiot, he doesn’t scare anybody, but never turn your back on a man when you’re sleeping with his wife.”
“I got it – don’t get myself killed because it would upset my mom.”
“And don’t be a smartass with your uncle who’s trying to look out for you.”
“Yes, sir.” I stretched my hand to shake his. “This discussion should remain between us because it’s no one’s business.”
“I got you.
Chapter 5
On Friday I put on a Tom Ford black shirt and one of the suits Catherinelle designed for me a few months ago and drove down to Brighton Beach. It wasn’t surprising that he decided to set shop up here. The area was infested with Russians and more than half of them were Bratva. His mansion was the last house on West End Ave., right on the sea front. When I got there, the front gates opened without me calling in, and I drove up to the front of the house. It was an obnoxiously large construction, but it lacked finesse. This place was constructed to look flashy and tacky. Two Lamborghinis and three Jeeps were parked up the driveway, and since I could see the fucking garage open and empty, I had to guess Popov put them there to show off to me. Pathetic.
I went up the stairs and knocked on the door. I had to keep my promise to Katja for two reasons: one, I wanted to know more about what the fuck was happening in that house, and two, I felt bad for her. Popov didn’t show signs that he was treating his daughter much better than he was treating Ludmila.
The mahogany door opened and a sight for sore eyes was revealed. Ludmila was dressed all in white satin, with her hair down and still a little wet from the shower, and no makeup. Her perfection was beyond words. A true queen.
“You’re here to pick up Katja,” she said keeping her face expressionless. My goal was to put some fucking emotion in her blue eyes again, because she was so incredible when she allowed herself to feel something. The woman standing in front of me was a gorgeous creature, but she was a totally different person from the one I got to meet at The Mask.
“Don’t lie to yourself, baby doll. I’m here to see you.”
“Stop it. We’ve talked about this.”
“No, you talked, and I disagreed with everything you said. Where’s your fucking husband?”
“He’s not home. Katja will be down in a few minutes.”
Good. A few minutes was all I needed.
I grabbed Ludmila by the waist and dragged her into a hallway, pinning her to the wall and taking her mouth captive. Despite all her big words, she didn’t struggle.
