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"What's your game, Maxim?" I demanded, ignoring Aspen’s boyfriend.
"Misha met Aspen at a backstage party. There's nothing more or less innocent than that."
"The very fact you're calling me tells me something shady is going on."
"He wished you to know he has good intentions."
"The marrying kind?"
"Yes."
My brows rose as I turned to look at the Bratva brother who was staring at me, his gaze stony, but his eye level just at the line of respectability—at my chin height.
"How long have they been dating?"
"Not long enough for Aspen to understand what he does for a living. Not long enough to understand that Misha is not like every other man. But I trust him with my life. You might not, and you don't have to, but you should know, from one ally to another, that I would discourage this match if I thought there was danger to our friendship."
Despite the situation, I had to admit that I appreciated his reassurance.
"If he hurts her, betrays her, does anything to impact her life, I will consider him an enemy of the Five Points." My gaze was fixed on him as I said that. At last, our eyes met. "Does he understand that?"
"I'm sure he does," Maxim drawled in my ear.
Misha nodded.
I grunted. "And do you understand the ramifications of that?"
"I'm certain you'll choose an appropriately medieval way of punishing him," he concurred.
"It will not affect our alliance," I said, making it more of a statement than a question.
"It will not. I informed him of the stakes of this relationship, and he agreed that he understood the damage he could cause to our business association."
"As long as that's understood... Happy Thanksgiving, Maxim."
"And to you."
We cut the call, and I handed Misha his cell back.
"I meant it, Misha. You hurt her; I'll hurt you."
He dipped his chin. "I have no desire to hurt her. I have every intention of making her happy."
I knew how the Bratva made their women happy.
For some men, that might have eased their concern. For me, I thought about the goddamn head Maxim had gifted Victoria.
"What have you done?" I demanded.
A soft smile graced his lips. "Nothing." He withdrew from the doorway.
As I closed the door behind him, jaw clenched, I called out, "Remember what I said, Misha."
He didn’t look back, so I turned to Savvie who was staring at me bug-eyed.
"Was that Maxim Lyanov?"
"It was."
