He walks over to the small bar in the corner and starts pouring himself a whiskey. “Neither do you.”
I put the wine down on the coffee table. “These people are psychopaths.”
“What happened?” he asks, keeping his back to me.
“A waitress spilled a drink on Ekaterina, and you should have seen how she reacted. She humiliated her. Poured champagne on her and threatened to force her to clean the spilled drink off the ground with her tongue. Who the hell talks to people like that? She has serious issues. I don’t want to imagine how she’d behave if her side ruled this city.”
Nero walks over to sit on the couch beside me. He looks down into his glass, his jaw clenched.
“You don’t have anything to say to that?” I prod.
“What do you want me to say? Did you really think they’d be nice people when you signed us up for this? You’re not supposed to like them, Blake. You’re supposed to want to take them down.”
Goosebumps scatter over my arms. Take them down?
Sounds pretty good, doesn’t it? Ekaterina deserves it.
What? No. I don’t want to take anyone down. Where did that thought even come from?
I swallow, unsettled. That’s not why I’m doing this. I just want to help Nero and then put as much distance as I can between myself and these people.
“Is that it? How was the rest of the evening?”
I look over at Nero. “Uncomfortable. She prodded me about you.”
He sniffs. “What did she ask?”
“She kept bringing up the fact that your position has changed. I guess she tried to see how I felt about your demotion.”
Nero’s expression grows even more tense. “So did Maksim. They must have decided that’s the weak spot they need to exploit.”
Worry runs through me. I can’t imagine Nero responded well to that.
His knuckles turn white around his glass. “Howdoyou feel about it?”
“About what?”
“My position.”
“I acted as if I’m angry on your behalf. I think she bought it. She kept trying to imply that you’re weak. I think she wanted to see if that bothers me.”
“Does it?” His voice is clipped.
“Of course not. I don’t care about what position you hold.”
“Don’t you? You seem determined to make me capo.”
“Yeah, because if you keep doing what you’re doing now, you’re far more likely to end up dead.”
His jaw moves as he stares into his glass for a few moments, and then he tosses the whiskey back.
“How did it go for you?” I ask.
“You came up.”
“Did I?”
“Maksim said I have a very beautiful wife. He wanted to know how you liked New York. I lied and told him you’re warming up to it.”
