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Pedro and Marco nodded to me and I walked inside.
“Sebastian,” Milo said, standing up. He had a typical Balkan look and he was older than me. He looked sullen this evening like he hadn’t shaved for at least a week. There were also some silver strands in his normally jet black hair. I only just noticed it in the light. “We were expecting you sooner. Sparky told me you’re meeting with the Italians tonight.”
I let go of a sharp breath and glanced at my other brother. Sparky was blond, stockier, and the shortest of us all. I was the youngest, but also the one who always got shit done, no matter what.
“What the fuck are you both doing in here?” I asked them, already pissed. My mood darkened even more.
“We heard you messed the deal with the Italians,” Sparky said, taking out his gun and staring at it. Although he was married, he gladly fucked anything that moved in the literal sense of the word. Some of the underground orgies he held were truly products of a sick mind. I had no idea how his wife Roxanna wasn’t aware of this—or maybe she was but didn’t care. Money talked, even in mafia marriages, and Sparky was a rich man. Roxanna had expensive tastes, so it was a good arrangement.
“Then you heard fucking wrong. Can you both disappear? Gino should be here any minute and we all know I am the best man for the job,” I barked at them.
“There are other rumors circulating. Everything okay with Russina?” Milo asked, staring at me with unusual calmness. I glared at him. Only Marinka’s folks knew about Russina’s death. She had no family, so what did my brother know?
That fucking Petrovsky knew something for sure, but so far nobody else, apart from my closest circle, knew that Marinka wasn’t Russina.
“She’s fine. Busy. We have been away to France and she hurt her back, so that’s why you haven’t seen her around,” I explained.
“Just make sure that deal goes through, Sebastian. We don’t need any more fuckups,” Sparky blurted, brushing a hand through his hair as he put his gun back.
“Watch who you’re talking to, brother. I am the one who sorts all that shit, so now fuck off. Both of you,” I barked. “I started this whole fucking business.”
“All right, all right, calm the fuck down. We are leaving now,” Sparky said.
Milo wasn’t happy and I had a feeling he wanted to talk about something else with me, but he followed Sparky out anyway.
When I was alone in the room, I braced myself, telling myself I had this under control like always. Marinka was Russina and no one had talked. I was certain of it.
Ten minutes later, the waitress brought me some whiskey and there was a knock at the door.
“Boss,” Pedro came in, and I had to say I had never seen him look so disturbed. A split second later, Marcus Petrovsky walked inside the room.
“You can shut the door now. I don’t have any guns on me. Your bodyguard just checked me,” he said.
A vein in my temple started to throb. What the fuck was this guy doing in my presence again?
“I have a meeting—”
“Yes, with Gino Valenti. Unfortunately, he and his brother, who was visiting him here from France, ended up in a terrible car accident, so he’s not going to make it,” Marcus stated, cutting me off.
I glared at him. Gino Valenti happened to be Alex’s brother, which meant Marcus had killed two birds with one stone for me.
“Don’t expect me to thank you. I’m still making a deal with Gino’s family. They have connections,” I said, fucking annoyed that now Marcus believed he could fuck with me and hold me under his thumb.
He sat down in front of me and unbuttoned his suit jacket. He was trying to be intimidating, but I wouldn’t back down.
“You won’t be dealing with the Italians. We have better connections and better shipment methods. Our quality outsells that of the Italians,” he said and I laughed, but then he reached into his jacket pocket and produced two bags. Getting up from his seat, he placed them in front of me, then sat back down.
That guy wasn’t giving up. He wanted in, but at the same time I knew that my brothers weren’t going to agree. The Balkans hated the fucking Russians and that was the bottom line.
“The coke on the right is the one we produced and the one of the left … well, let’s just try it,” he said.
I hesitated because I didn’t trust that fucker, but he did injure and possibly kill Alex for me, so that kind of changed things. Now I felt like I had to make a deal with him because he was looking after my interests.
I tasted some of the powder in the bag on the left and then some from the other. The fucker was right. His shit was much better compared to the stuff I was normally used to. Lately, our suppliers had slacked with quality and word on the street was that no one was buying from the Balkans anymore. This coke was a fucking game changer.
“That’s good shit,” I said, staring at Marcus who had that arrogant smirk on his face. He knew what I said was true.
“It’s excellent shit and we can make your family stinking rich,” he stated.
