“Da,Maxim.”
Heading away from the light, I blink a few times as the darkness consumes me then head over to the back wall where a shower setup awaits.
I step in fully clothed and begin the cleaning process.
As the blood flows down the drain, I rock my head from side to side. Tension’s clustered there, triggering a headache, since Victoria left for college.
“He’s awake,” Kirill tells me as I drag my fingers through my hair and eradicate all traces of blood in it.
“More fool him.”
“Are you sure?—”
I glare at him. “If you ask me that one more time, I’ll put you in those vices next.”
“I’m just concerned,shukher,” he appeases.
“Don’t be. He touched my wife, which means he disrespected our family.” I bellow the last words. The music cuts off abruptly. The chatter of drunk voices fades. “If any of your wives or sisters or mothers or daughters were hurt, I’d bring that man in and make him bleed too.
“Because the world might have forgotten us, but I haven’t, and I will make those who dared think they could,pay.”
A roar sounds around the warehouse, one that has Kirill ducking away again, one that scents of approval and that’ll inspire loyalty. That’ll remind my men of the chains that bind us together, chains that were formed on the streets of Moskva where a lot of us were raised.
“Stop terrifying the help.”
My shoulders drop as I turn my face back into the spray. “You took your time.”
Misha grouses, “I was busy coordinating things for Victoria.”
“Why?”
“Her guards ended their shift and gave me an update of what’s happened with her while our attention’s been elsewhere.”
Even though our last conversation was more of a fight, a chuckle escapes me. “She’s as bloodthirsty as I am.”
“It’s been a long time since you sent her hands. The dick’s new.”
“She’ll love them when she finds out who they belong to.”
“You can just send flowers, you know? Whatever you’ve done to piss her?—”
“Who says I have?”
“Your temper. You’ve been clomping around Manhattan like you have a personal grudge against concrete.”
“You don’t?—”
“I know you, Maxim. What did you do? You’re such a self-sabotager.”
“Have you been watching daytime television again? Self-sabotager,” I scoff. “Are you taking psychology with Victoria?”
I don’t have to look at him to know he’s rolling his eyes. “Fine. Don’t tell me how you managed to annoy your wife of?—”
“What’s going on with Kirill?” I demand instead of punching him.
“His wife’s pregnant.”
Ah, shit. “Again?”
