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“You won’t hurt me. Not in front of everyone here. Killing a kid won’t sit well with your allies.”
“Good thing you aren’t a kid,” I say as I press him harder against the wall. He wheezes. “Maybe you’ve forgotten, since you’ve never been forced to grow up and get your shit together, but you’re not a teenager anymore, Sasha. Definitely not a kid. When you play adult games, you win adult prizes. A bullet to the brain, for instance.”
His eyes flare. He looks around the room quickly, probably searching for his dad. I have no idea where Arnov is, but I’ll deal with him, too, if I have to. No one disrespects me in my own house.
“Come on, Kirill,” Viktoria whines from behind me. “Let him go.”
“Listen to your fiancée,” Sasha sneers. “You’re about to throw away two alliances because of your little slut. Is she worth all that?”
German asked me the same thing. I have an answer now.
“She’s worth more than any of you will ever be.”
My arm is a band of steel across Sasha’s chest. He tries to inhale, but it comes out in a high-pitched whistle. “You’re going to lose the partnership of the Lenins for a fuckinghousemaid?”
“I don’t know. Am I?” I ask rhetorically over my shoulder. “Where is Arnov? I’d love to hear what he has to say about this.”
Arnov Lenin steps forward, towering over Viktoria and Leonid, who are huddled together in the periphery. His expression is unreadable. “I’m here, Don Zaitsev.”
“I’d love to hear your thoughts on the situation, friend.”
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t kill my son,” he says diplomatically. “Beyond that, I don’t have anything to say.”
Sasha scoffs. “Dad, he’s threatening your lineage.”
“And if you don’t shut your idiot mouth, he’ll make good on those threats,” Arnov snaps. It’s the fiercest I’ve ever heard the man.
“On the way here, you said Kirill was an idiot to exchange Viktoria for a maid,” Sasha continues. “You said he doesn’t have the strategic mindset of his father. You said—”
“He said to shut your fucking mouth,” I interrupt. “Maybe you should listen before I kill you both.”
Arnov groans softly. “Don Kirill, I’m sorry for my son’s disrespect. I never—We’ve all said things in private we don’t want anyone to hear. I apologize on my son’s behalf.”
“You are forgiven for having the good sense to do your shit-talking in private.” I refocus on Sasha. His neck is turning red as I squeeze the air out of him. “But does your son apologize?”
Sasha’s nostrils flare, but he stays quiet.
“Because I invited all of you into my home,” I say loudly, reminding the entire group. “I called you here as friends and allies, and I’ve heard nothing but baseless speculation about my personal life. And now, there has been an outright attack on my household.”
“She’s a maid, not your wife,” Sasha blurts. He looks over my shoulder towards the Kozlovs. “Come on, Leonid. He’s disrespecting your daughter, too. What do you have to say?”
Viktoria is notably silent. I’m sure there is plenty she wishes her dad would say. Instead, Leonid clears his throat. “I think you should listen to your father, boy. Apologize and be done with this embarrassment.”
“If you had a single thought in your head, you’d know that I go to great lengths to protect those I consider friends,” I tell Sasha. “If I were you, I’d work a lot harder at becoming one of them. It might save your life one day.”
Sasha glances around the room again. He’s hoping to find support there, but people don’t bet on the loser once the fight is over. Sasha has lost and he has two choices before him: repent or die.
When his chin drops, I know he’s made the right one.
“I apologize for my poor behavior, Don Kirill,” he says through gritted teeth.
I’d love to push for more and let this embarrassment really sink in, but I can feel Rayne standing behind me like a physical touch. Like a stroke against the back of my neck. I want to make sure she’s okay more than I want to teach Sasha Lenin a valuable lesson he should have learned a long time ago:Don’t fuck with Kirill Zaitsev.
So I reluctantly release my hold on him and step back.
He sags forward and takes a gasping breath. No sooner has he stood upright than does Arnov Lenin move forward and grab his son by the neck.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Don Kirill.” Arnov is all formality on the surface, but there is a palpable rage simmering underneath. “I will call and talk with you soon. For now, we’ve overstayed our welcome.”
