Page 22 of The Beast of Moscow

“That’s not the point!”

Oh, wonderful.

The yelling had started.

Vaslav simply didn’t have the patience for it. “Knock it off, Mat.”

It was the tone he used that got his point across. Flat, but full of bass. Booming, she told him when he started puberty at a young eleven and nearly shot up past six feet tall overnight. Her swatting stopped, then. She never reached for a belt—or anything else she liked to beat him with, broom handles included—again when she was scared that he might hit back. By then, however, it was already too late. A too-young Vaslav had stumbled on a gang of boys that were his size but had a few years on his.

Everything went downhill after that.

She’d never cared enough to save him, anyway.

Sometimes, he could deal with her bullshit. The shrieking and going on; her drunk episodes in the city that required a clean-up, usually by financial means; and all the other nonsense she had put him through ever since she learned he’d found measurable success after prison.

Well, then it had been easier.

But not so much, now.

His time felt too precious.

Natalia sucked in a sharp breath, squeezing her lips together while her blonde hair blew with the wind, and she tried to stare him down. “You can’t abuse me—”

“Who’s abused, suka?”

“You little prick!”

Vaslav fell into the chair on the left side of the sofa, folding his hands over his chest while he chuckled. He took great satisfaction folding one leather shoe over his knee and staring up at the woman who had never once shown him an ounce of love or gratefulness for all he’d suffered through for her, yet still demanded more.

Especially when he’d pissed her off.

“Who’s little, Mat?”

That shut her up instantly.

He let her fume where she stood while he eyed the darkening sky.

“So, that’s it, then?” Natalia asked.

“Extra every month as long as I don’t see your face more than once.”

“Fine by me.”

Vas smirked at that, tipping his head to the side so his mother could see beyond the scarred profile he previously offered. “And that includes any issues I might have to hear about.”

At that news, he could almost see her face fall. But that decade-old face lift and her constant use of Botox kept it firmly in place.

He respected her dedication if nothing else.

“But ... Vas—”

“Mat, it’s not up for discussion. Believe it or not, I don’t actually have the time to chase after you anymore, and the one or two men I have tasked with dealing with you over the years have both made it clear it’s pointless. Learn a different way, now.”

Natalia tossed her arms high, shouting at him, “You wouldn’t have any of this if it wasn’t for me!”

He almost laughed at that, but she hadn’t quite pissed him off enough yet to earn it. “Still can’t believe how fast you blew through the ten million roubles I paid for this place.”

She’d been all too gleeful, and greedy, to sign those papers.