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“This is bigger than just us,” I tell her.
She stares down at the table.
CHAPTER 25
DIMITRI
We meet in the back office, which I especially assigned for a private meeting because I had it soundproofed as part of our preparation. I knew there would be a chance for a private meeting at some point, especially after I rubbed my woman in his face.
It hurt like hell, pretending she was just some side thing, which is why I had to take it one step further andcallher my woman.
In the office, Oleg, Nikolai’s second, stands just behind the conference table. He’s a powerful-looking man, at least ten years younger than Nikolai. So far, Nikolai has maintained control through fear, finances, and my father’s support. Well, my father’s gone now.
I stay standing, too. Nikolai realizes too late. He’s already sitting. He leans forward like he might stand but then huffs and sits back. Mikhail, Denis, and Nikolai’s other man sit toward the edge of the meeting.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Nikolai snaps. “We both know how this looks.”
“You sent men to kidnap Dahlia,” I tell him. “Before that, you were tailing me. That’s how you knew to go after her. You and my father even arranged for one of my guards to turn against us. One last fuck-you from the grave.”
Nikolai rubs his face like he’s trying to scrub his skin off. “That’s not… Those arebigwords,” he barks. “Big words, Dimitri.”
“The man was terrified of you, Nikolai—Kirill.” Nikolai winces when Mikhail cuts in, as though he recognizes the name. “I got the truth out of him. Of course, I had to get my hands dirty to do it. I had to leave my very convenient, luxurious life to torture some lowlife prick for you.”
Mikhail sits up, glaring at Nikolai, looking as big and terrifying as any Bratva warrior.
“Do you deny the charges, then?” I ask.
“Obviously,” Nikolai snaps.
“What about Artyom, Nikolai?” I growl, leaning forward, causing the little rat to wilt in his seat like the coward he is. “Before I bled him with my knife…” The tone in the room lowers, which is precisely what I wanted. Mikhail gets fierce about violence, but I detach. I’m cold. It freaks people out, and that’s useful. “He somehow knew about Kirill’s connection to Mila and you. How would he know that unless you sent him?”
“That doesn’t prove?—”
“The dead kidnapper links to Artyom. Artyom links to Kirill. Kirill links to you.” Mikhail looks like he’s ready for blood.
Nikolai stands up, looking like he’s about to erupt. I quickly raise my hand. “But I’ve got a proposal,” I tell him. “A way we can move on from this.”
He stops, tilting his head. He looks like a rodent who’s just spied a possible exit to a deadly maze. From across the table, I can feel Mikhail stewing. Mikhail just wanted his easy, spare-brother life: video games, the gym,hanging out,and whatever else my brother does. However, when the Bratva calls, a man has no choice but to answer, especially when it’s blood on the line.
“A proposal?” Nikolai says after a pause.
“Your men are losing faith in you, Nikolai. We both know my father was always the one to back you, to make you seem tougher than you are. It’s okay. There’s no shame in it. That’s what alliances are for, but your men doubt you.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nikolai snaps.
I sigh, then reach into my pocket and take out my gun. Nikolai gasps. “You’re pulling agunon me, you moron?” he snaps, his whole face turning red. He slams his fist on the table, leaning forward and staring at the barrel. “My men can hate or love me. They owe their loyalty to the fuckingPakhan, and that’sme.”
“That’s why I want to make a deal.” I turn the gun to Oleg, his second. The big man grimaces. “Give me your second as a show of loyalty. Our father was right. The days of being soft are over. After this, I’m bringing trafficking back. I’m going to dominate this fucking city.”
Nikolai gets wide-eyed. “You’re bringing it back?”
“It’s all revenue,” I grunt. “That’s all this game ever was. Decide. Now.”
Nikolai doesn’t even hesitate. “Do it. Kill him. I don’t care!”
“Oh, Nikolai,” I say, sighing, as Oleg spins around into a violent punch that takes the smaller man clear off his feet. I tuck my gunaway as Oleg and his other men drag Nikolai into the corner of the room and start beating on him. After a minute of this brutal violence, which is just another ugly part of the life, Oleg stops and walks over to me, wiping his hands on a handkerchief.
Nikolai is half sitting up against the wall, his face bloody and swollen, clutching his stomach.
