“Siobhan Murphy, sir. My father is Killian—”
“You’rethe only daughter of Killian Murphy?” He doesn’t try to hide the surprise in his voice. At my nod, he lets out a laugh. “Well done, boys! How the hell did you manage that? Murphy is a stingy bastard and won’t usually let her see the light of day.”
Illya and Luka exchange a surprised look. “Well—”
“Nevermind, nevermind, sit! Come sit!” He looks almost jovial as he waves us over. “I suppose that’s why the table is set for four, eh?” Mikhail looks around the room, his gaze darkening slightly. “I see you’ve brought some men as well.”
Luka’s smile is cutting as he pulls my chair out for me. “Well, as you said,Otets, you can never be too careful. Someone could have heard about meeting with all the Vasiliev men in one place and decide now is the best time to strike.” He sits in his seat beside me, putting me directly across from Mikhail Vasiliev. Kole may have gotten his eyes and hair from his father, but he must have received the rest from his mother because those are the only two similarities.
“Well, notallthe Vasiliev men,” Illya mutters.
“Do not bring up thatbastardin front of me,” Mikhail snaps.
My stomach drops.
My vision tinges red.
I need to keep my mouth shut, I know I do, but somehow the words are coming out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Imagine, having the audacity to impregnate your mistress, and then referring to your son as a derogatory term that stemmed fromyouractions.”
“Lisichka—” Kole’s panicked voice in my ear has my heart lurching.
Mikhail’s face turns to stone. “And justwhat, Siobhan, wouldyouknow about my third son?”
Both Illya and Luka tense.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck,fuck.
“Nothing,” I say quickly—almost too quickly. I backpedal, hoping to high hell that Kole knows I don’t mean anything I’m about to say. “Except for…for how much money he cost you. I can understand why you would…not want him mentioned. I just don’t understand what him being a bastard has to do with it.”
Mikhail’s brows furrow for a moment, before his shoulders relax. “Your father has trained you well in the art of getting yourself out of a grave of your own making. Perhaps that is something you can teach to my sons.” He motions between the two of them.
Trying my best to make my smile seem genuine, I nod once. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” He smiles, then motions for a nearby waiter to fill up our wine glasses. “Really, I prefer an omega that doesn’t speak at all, but if you must speak, at least you seem intelligent enough.”
I bare my teeth. “Thank you, sir.”
Mikhail takes a long, slow drink from his wine glass. “Now,” he sets it down, clapping his hands together, “I am rather excited to see just what your chef has whipped up for the menu for this restaurant. I’m certainly paying him enough.”
Luka shifts in his seat. “Weare paying him. This is mine and Illya’s venture, remember?”
Mikhail snorts. “It is all my money,umnik. As long as I am breathing, and as long as you bear the Vasiliev name and my blood—everything you are belongs to me.”
Luka opens his mouth to argue, but Illya—whose arm is resting on the seat behind me—tightens his hand on Luka’s shoulder. His mouth immediately snaps shut.
“Of course,Otets,” Illya nods, “please, forgive my brother.”
Kole curses something Russian in my ear, but I have no idea what it means.
Mikhail grunts, waving him off. “Why I would expect anything but disrespect from the two of you, I will never know. At least the bastard never toed the line with me.Heknew his place.”
Alexei, surprisingly, lets out a little scoff.
Mikhail scowls into his glass. “You were always too soft on the boy, Alexei.”
“I was never soft,” the man snaps. “But you don’t make a sword stronger by snapping it in half.”
