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And she would hate me forever for saving a life that she would soon find out—didn’t want to be saved.
Her brother was lucky.
I didn’t say it out loud.
But it didn’t make it any less true.
Death would be a kindness. Something I remembered spreading across the mafia families when Andi Petrov died—that the first romantic words Sergio, her fiancé, ever said to her was that death would be a kindness, like putting down a dog.
I hated that my thoughts went in the same direction.
“I wasn’t.” She shook her head. “Flirting with you or trying to seduce you, I can barely hold my own head up, but thanks for the reminder that I have no control over anything. I think I needed it.”
Guilt assaulted me the rest of the way to the house.
She was quiet as we pulled up to the two-story brick mansion. Not only did it have windows, but it looked like something out of a Builder’s magazine. Nothing but the best for our new boss.
Shit, I hated him.
Mine. It should have been mine, would have been mine.
And now I wanted out because watching someone step into your Family, take everything that you thought would be yours, and be forced to report to them day in and day out? What sort of torture was that? I’d rather slit my wrists, thank you.
The SUV pulled to a stop in front of the massive entrance. The guy who tortured with tigers had a water fountain. Really? And plants? The man had trees.
Wonders never fucking cease.
Andrei, all blond hair and bright blue eyes, looking every inch Russian, not Italian, walked out of the house with a glass of wine in his hand.
I did a double take, then uttered, “Did Hell freeze over?”
He narrowed his eyes and looked down at me like he was sorry for my existence. “You tell me. You’re the one who has a house there.”
Wow, nice, not a dad joke in there.
“Nice sweater.” A sweater. He was wearing a fucking black cable knit sweater.
He flipped me off and then downed the entire glass of wine with murder in his eyes. His icy stare just amused me more. I half expected him to toss the glass into the bushes and start cursing at me in every language he knew—which would probably take a while.
“Pretty sure you’re supposed to sip that.” I shrugged, “You sip wine, you shoot tequila.” As gently as I could, I kind of thrust the girl forward. “All right, consider the package delivered.”
Andrei burst out laughing. “That’s funny.” He pointed his wine glass at me, then elbowed one of his men, Ax, “Isn’t he funny?”
“Hilarious,” he deadpanned. “I’m laughing on the inside, may shit my pants, who knows?”
“Inside.” Andrei’s smile disappeared instantly into a lethal stare that said asking questions would produce blood—your own. “Both of you. Now.”
I clenched my hands into fists. I hated that he was my boss. I hated getting ordered around like I was a child. I’d rather he hit me.
He was younger than me by five years and ordered me around like he had a right to.
Which technically, he did.
Unless I killed him.
That brought a smile to my face.
I put my hand on the girl’s back and led her inside a home that looked nothing like the club Andrei owned.
