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“Most men do things that don’t interest me.”

“So you’re a monk now?”

“Hey.” He steps back, raises his hands, that arrogant, somehow endearing smirk on his face. “I dance like a lone wolf. I don’t go playing the field. I just enjoy – enjoyed – getting shitfaced and smoking cigarettes. You’re witnessing the great new Nikolai Volkov come to life.”

I laugh, shaking my head. He meets my eye with a boyish grin. He makes me feel younger, which is a weird thing to think. But it’s true. It’s like there’s a hint of excitement, a hint of… something. Possibility. After all Mateo stole from me, this is making me feel human again after slogging through life just trying to get by.

“Your people skills are improving,” I tell him. “I’ll give you that.”

“Maybe I’m just cheesy,” he replies.

Is he referring to the text? That’s the word he used with Iris. With me. Or am I just losing my mind over here? He glances at me, but it doesn’t seem intentional. Does he know? Is he testing me? Or maybe Iris is on his mind.

Celeste approaches us when we reach the VIP area. “Rafael Cordero has requested you for a private party,” she says. “Extra pay, but you know he just wants to lord it over you.”

“I’m in,” I reply. I can’t afford not to be in.

Celeste looks to the spot next to me, which I assumed would be empty air. I assumed Mr. Volkov would’ve kept walking, because a conversation between Celeste and a VIP girl isn’t exactly of interest to him. But he’s standing there, staring intensely.

“Is this okay, sir?” Celeste asks, seeming nervous for the first time I can remember.

“He asked for her specifically?”

Celeste nods. “Yes, sir.”

“Right.” He’s tensed up, the tattoos on his neck shifting. Then he blinks as though waking from a dream. Is he jealous? Or is this a classic case of projection? “Yeah, it’s fine.”

He strides away. Celeste raises her eyebrow at me. I shake my head. I don’t have any answers either.

CHAPTER 6

NIKOLAI

Iused to spend the night at the one-way glass, drinking, watching, then heading down and making an ass of myself. Now, I’ve got more time than usual. And I don’t want to stand at the glass. I don’t want to see anything that could finally link back to Iris, to whoever she is. I don’t want to know. I need to grow up and settle down.

But I can’t ignore the urge that I want Iris and Serena to be the same person. Serena is funny when she lets herself go, and I know she’s hiding more than she shows. And Iris challenged me the first chance she got. If Iris were Serena’s secret side…

Then what? What would my play be exactly? I could be with her, bring her into my world… my world where people get kidnapped and tortured and potentially killed.

Celeste knocks a few minutes later. I half expected to see Anton walking beside her. They make the sort of couple you’d see on the cover of some quirky magazine. Anton smirks like a little kid when I say things like that, so I know I’m onto something.

“Got some good feedback about the stickers,” Celeste says. “A few people have acted like they were about to cause some chaos, been directed to the stickers, and then stopped. So that’s good.”

“It is good,” I agree, thinking of Iris. That was a good idea. But Celeste is clearly rambling. “Anything else?”

“Just wanted to be clear on the hosting arrangements. You seemed… hesitant about Serena?”

“Rafael Cordero is a dog,” I say.

This is the issue with working with non-family and non-Bratva. Celeste is tied to me by money and by the fear that my shady criminal connections would extend to hurting her if she betrayed me. But I’d never hurt a woman, and especially not a civilian. So, I’m screwed. With Anton, with Maksim, there was trust.

I could tell Celeste that Rafael Cordero doesn’t just run some security company. They don’t just provide transport for VIPs and coordinate events for the elites. They’re a sophisticated producer and seller of designer drugs, and they’re willing to use violence to protect their business. Rafael Cordero might very well know who I am – my reputation is known in the underworld – and maybe that’s why he comes here. He feels at home.

But I can’t tell her any of this. Because she’s an outsider.

“Yeah, I know that,” Celeste says awkwardly. “But we know how to handle him. If we couldn’t deal with assholes, we wouldn’t come to work.”

“Is it that bad?” I ask, suddenly angry. I’ve been thinking about making the clubs legitimate, a true earner for the Bratva, for Maksim. I’ll go to him with a legitimate business on top of the information pipeline, a thriving enterprise.