Page 5 of My Ex’s Dad

“At least no politicians were nearby this time,” he adds.

“You mean no underage and thoroughly intoxicated daughters of any politicians,” I amend.

Roman’s love of partying surpasses his love of not doing a goddamn thing that might help the Bratva. Out of pity, I gave him the task of acting like a consultant last year, just so he’d have an excuse to say he does something. His entire financial expertise amounts to spending money without a thought for what it costs. Raised under my ex-wife’s watch, Roman was conditioned to be spoiled. Fed with a silver spoon. Expected to do nothing but fake a charisma that comes across as phony ass-kissing.

His vices exceed his skills, and his appetite for causing scandals and living the high life seems endless. For those reasons alone, he will never earn my trust. He’ll never receive a vote of confidence from me. It’s precisely why I let him think he has a job acting as a consultant for minor accounts all while delegating someone else to do the actual work for him after the fact.

“Perhaps he will outgrow his frivolous nature,” Viktor says as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

I turn slowly, done with my interest in this traitor who deceived me and lost my favor by stealing from the Bratva. He’s paying for it with his life. Roman steals from me just the same, albeit as my supposed heir. I don’t bother wondering what he’ll ever pay for. His mother will shelter him from any consequences, no matter what.

A sigh is all I can give him. “Oh, you think?”

Viktor lifts one shoulder and lets it fall as he joins me in leaving the room. I’ve seen enough. I’ve also heard enough about Roman.

Leading the Bratva comes with a bounty of headaches, but anticipating Roman’s behavior is becoming an epic annoyance. “I’m supposed to be able to look forward to him taking over in my place.”

Viktor smirks, opening the door for me and exiting after me. “Is this another one of those days when you start admitting you’re getting old?”

I shoot him a side-eye. He’s the only one able to match my dry humor, if and when I care to show it. “No.” At forty-six, I’m a young pakhan. But it doesn’t matter if I don’t have an heir I can have faith in leading the next generation. This is merely my turn in leading the Sokolov family. Thinking of Roman following in my steps fills me with dread.

“Then is this one of those days when you might have the patience to speak with Elena?” he asks as we climb the stairs to leave this level of the basement cells.

A meeting is next on my agenda.

Then another.

After that, renegotiations about a drug deal.

Then checking in on a few matters with our allies.

Patience is low in stock for me on any given day. But my free time—even to deal with my ex—is absolutely out.

“She wants to speak with you about Roman.”

I step out into the alley, heading toward the car idling for me in the wintry darkness. Loathing my useless son and being expected to speak to his mother leaves me cold as ice. Like always.

Once I’m in the backseat, I pull out my phone and scroll for her number. I have all her calls routed to Viktor’s phone so he can gatekeep nuisances. In the spirit of getting this over with, I dial her and wait for that whiny voice.

“Hey, baby,” she purrs.

“What do you want?” I don’t care if she thinks I’m terse. I really don’t give a damn if she assumes I’m annoyed, either. I can’t stand her and I’ll never miss an opportunity to remind her of that fact.

“I want you to go easy on our boy.”

She never misses a chance to remind me that we share a son.

I close my eyes for patience.

None comes.

“He’s not a boy.” He’s twenty-six, yet, he doesn’t know how to act like a real man.

Rubbing my forehead, I already regret calling her.

“But he’s not you. He’s not a cold workaholic who doesn’t know how to let loose and have fun sometimes. Roman’s a wonderful, free-spirited soul who doesn’t deserve to have to pay for the hotel damages from his party last night. He shouldn’t have to⁠—”

“Ever accept responsibility for fucking anything?” I growl, cutting her off.