Page 48 of The Bratva King

We step into the service elevator.

“No. Just saying we’ll need extra security.”

“The casino and the house.”

We go into my office where a cart from the kitchen is waiting.

That’s Pasha’s doing. We sit at the table in the corner with a view of the casino floor. Steak and potatoes and a bottle of red that Pasha opens.

“Anything you want to tell me?” He swirls the wine in his glass.

“About?”

“The dealer.”

"I moved them into the estate," I answer.

Pasha chokes on his wine. “You did what?”

He sets down his glass and stares at me.

“You moved a woman you barely know and her child into your home,” he says slowly. “Your home, Nik. The house that no one goes to.”

“I did.”

“Are you aware of how that sounds?”

“I am.”

He leans back in his chair and looks at me the way he does when he’s deciding how to handle me. I’ve seen that look since we were twelve years old. It means he’s choosing between two approaches. I should probably be more disturbed by his ability to handle me.

“She was on the street,” I say. “Her and the boy. Landlord put them out.”

“There are hotels, Nik. Shelters. A hundred options between the street and your private residence.”

“She doesn’t have money for a hotel.”

“You could have given her money.”

“She wouldn’t have taken it.”

“Please don’t tell me you forced her into your house.”

I give him a look. “I didn’t kidnap them.”

“How long?” he asks.

“I don’t know. She said two nights, but she’s not going to bounce back that quickly.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“It’s fine.”

“Nobody goes to the house. No business. No women. Nobody.”

“I know the rules,” I say.

“Is something going on there?” he asks.