“Rafaele isn’t one to fall prey to his emotions. He’s a stoic man.”
“His wife was in danger. Surely you’re aware how important she is to him?”
The pakhan laughs, and the harsh sound echoes through the room. “I’m well aware of his weak spots. He protects them well.”
“It’s ready,” Ekaterina says to me, nodding at the coffee pot. Her anxiety is palpable, practically vibrating off her. “Come on. Bring it to him.”
“Why are you so scared of him if you’re on the same side?” I ask quietly.
Her eyes flash with a mix of fear and frustration. “Same side or not, he doesn’t suffer fools. I told Maks to wait a little longer before going to him with this idea, but Maks is impatient. If he’s wrong about this, my hide is on the line along with his. Now, no more questions, hurry up.”
Pity stirs in my chest at her barely suppressed terror. I study Maksim, who’s sitting to the right of the pakhan, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips. She’s right to be worried. Her husbandismaking a mistake.
Or at least he was, until he turned the tables on us.
The whole point of this plot was to give Gino a chance to kill the Russian leader, but he has no idea the pakhan is here.
The phone in my back pocket vibrates and my heart skips a beat. Could it be Gino?
I can’t pick up the call in front of Ekaterina.
I place the coffee pot on the tray, trying to think of a way to sneak away for just a few seconds. The phone keeps vibrating.
“What are you waiting for?” Ekaterina hisses. “Go.”
An idea appears. It’s a gamble, but worth trying.
I pick up the tray and carry it over to where the men are sitting.
“Rafaele will regret putting his wife over your friendship,” the pakhan says. “I will make sure of that. And Gino Ferraro will pay for how he’s mistreated you.”
Nero nods. “I appreciate that. I hope this can be the beginning of a fruitful partnership.” His eyes flick to me as I set the tray on the coffee table. For a brief moment, I see a flash of desperation in his gaze before he blinks it away. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” The phone stops vibrating.
“Is this your wife?” the pakhan asks.
I offer the older man a polite smile. “Yes. I’m Blake De Luca.”
His dark, terrifying eyes assess me as I pour the coffee into five cups. “How kind of you to make refreshments. If you don’t mind, one of the guards will need to check you for weapons.”
A growl escapes Nero. “No one touches my wife. She’s not armed.”
The pakhan’s smile is cold. “I’m sure that’s true, but I’ve always liked the phrase trust but verify. Why don’t you remove your sweater so we can see if you’ve got anything tucked away?”
I glance at Nero, waiting for his nod of approval before I pull my hoodie over my head and toss it on the sofa. My heart pounds in my chest. What if they take my phone?
But the pakhan seems satisfied. He glances past me. “Katya, I didn’t notice you over there. Have a seat, child. You too, Blake. Everything is fine.”
My lungs expand with relief as I lower down beside Nero.
“This is a big moment for your husband, isn’t it?” the pakhan continues. “One you might tell your kids about one day. It’s notoften that we consider allowing an Italian to come to our side, but for someone as legendary as your husband, an exception must be made.” He smirks, folding his hands over his belly. “Nero, you wanted to talk in person. I presume it’s because you want my personal assurance that I will take care of Messero and Ferraro. You have it. I give you my word, man-to-man. There won’t be any deals made. They will die at my hand.”
Nero nods. “I appreciate it.”
“It will be my pleasure. And when it comes to your position… Well, we can discuss those specifics later.” He makes a dismissive wave. “Let’s not get bogged down with administrative details. I reward those who prove their value to me very well.”
Nero shifts in his seat. “I’ve heard you are a generous man.”
