Page 133 of Nemesis

“Tell me, Ms. Siderov,” her husband says. “Why have you gone through all this trouble to come see me today?”

Blood, I think, to calm my racing heart. You will have your blood. You will bathe in it.

“I believe you know my husband.”

Lie.

Lies and truth. He’s mine, that’s all that really matters.

This gets the Pakhan’s attention. A fresh wave of interest paints his eyes. “Is that so? Who might that be?”

I don’t hesitate.

“Vasiliy Morozov.”

A small smile cracks his face. He’s a terrifying man, and even more so when he grins. “Not many people manage to surprise me anymore, Ms. Siderov. It’s quite a feat.”

I take a purposeful step forward, keeping my face blank. “I have a feeling it won’t be the only one today.”

“And why is that?”

My heart beats louder.

“Because I’ve come here, not as a wife, or a mourning daughter, but as a Pakhan. And we’re going to make a deal.”

I’m prepared for shocked laughter. For words of condescension.

To my surprise, neither comes.

The man’s only reaction is the tilt of his head, like the quirked interest of a bird of prey. After a long moment of consideration, he rises from his seat. I’m prepared to throw myself to the floor, to plead for another chance before he kicks me out…

But he merely gestures to the chair in front of his desk, inviting me to sit.

I slide into the chair.

You have to say something, Octavia.

Make your case before it’s too late.

“Vasiliy has told me about you,” I say, feigning as much casualness as I can muster.

His brows lift. “Is that so? Tell me, what was the Morozov boy’s opinion on my operations?”

“He said you were a fair leader. A moral shade of grey.”

“Hm,” he responds noncommittally. The man is large and muscular in the way all Bratva men seem to be. His black hair offsets bright blue eyes that never dim. He sort of looks like a circling hawk, prepared to sweep down and snap its teeth at the first sign of weakness. I won’t give him that opening.

“So I asked what you were doing, striking business deals with someone as foul as his uncle.”

A soft chuckle. “And what did your husband say?”

“He said you were effective above all else, and that little could dissuade you from striking such a beneficial agreement.”

“I see you have your father’s way with words,” he says softly. “Ms. Siderov, there’s a desperate glint in people’s eyes when you hold all their cards, and while you’ve done an excellent job maintaining my curiosity thus far, I think we’ve reached the point in the discussion where you tell me what you want.”

My nails dig into the soft flesh of my palms.

“Very well.” I straighten. “My syndicate is in ruins. My father died defending me less than ten hours ago. My cousin has been kidnapped by the Popov Syndicate, which has declared war on our territory. And my husband has been forced to return to Russia to serve at his uncle’s side.”