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Kings make edicts, ditya, so people know not to cross that line. If you tell someone there’s a line and they cross it, that’s on them. But if you let the fucker who crossed it simply go on his merry way, that’s on you. And once the line is crossed without any repercussions, well, let’s just say it’s the same as when a sheep crosses it—the rest will follow. Unless you spit-roast the thing, of course.
“You want me to finish him?”
I blinked and my gaze returned to the guy in front of me. He’d passed out and I hadn’t noticed. To be fair, my mind was somewhere else. See, this asshole wasn’t the only one ignoring my edicts. They weren’t written in ink or chiseled in stone though. Some things were a given, such as the fact that I didn’t appreciate my wife traipsing around the pool in a minuscule bikini with half her graduating class watching. Not when I couldn’t even touch her. Not while all the male motherfuckers checked her out when they thought I wasn’t watching. The idiots didn’t know I was always watching. All the damn time, ’cause it was the only thing I was allowed to do.
I let go of the asshole’s throat and he dropped to the floor.
I always went after what I wanted and took it. The same way I had taken Katya and forced her to be my wife. For a moment there I had expected her to let me blow my own brains out. I’d never forget her face when I put a gun to my head and threatened to shoot myself if she didn’t marry me. Back then she hadn’t known it, but marriage was the only way to save her from being killed by Sokolov, who had been about to show up for her. He’d wanted her dead because she was—in his words—the spawn of Aslanov, his mortal enemy who had murdered his family. Of course, Katya didn’t have a clue about her father. Itdidn’t matter. The Bratva didn’t forgive or forget. We did blood and bullets. Ice-cold rage and vengeance was our credo.
I stepped back and walked over to the sink in the corner to wash my hands. I’d worked the dealer over before I’d started to choke him, and my knuckles were grazed.
“I’ll take care of him.”
I looked up at Damon who gave me an inscrutable look. I’d been getting a lot of looks like that over the past week. I’d only been married for a few days and was already at the end of my patience. I just couldn’t quite figure out why. Being in control was who I was.
I dried my hands. “Make an example out of him.”
Damon looked surprised for a second but then nodded. I usually wasn’t this forgiving, but I’d decided to let the dealer live another day. He would lose his hand and end up in a wheelchair for quite some time, but he got to keep breathing.
I wish I could breathe as easily. There was a constant ache in my stomach, which had a direct connection to my heart. I needed to figure this shit out, and fast. If I didn’t, something was going to give. I felt it in my bones—I was close to snapping. I wanted, no Ineeded,to kill someone.
“You know, you could just man up and talk to her,” Angel suggested.
My gaze snapped to his. He leaned against the wall, a bored expression on his face. I wanted to pull at his tie and wrap it around his neck, to—
The cantankerous asshole had always been excellent at reading facial expressions. “Before you try to choke the life out of me too,” he said, reading my mind, “I should remind you that I’m your wife’s favorite. She’d be very upset if you killed me.”
I let out a deep breath. “Katya doesn’t play favorites. Right now she hates all of our guts equally, including yours.”
Angel, just like his twin, Damon, had been present when I’d forced her to marry me. Katya didn’t forgive and forget lightly either.
He gave a dismissive wave. “Katya loves me. She’ll get over it. Also, I bought her a car.”
“You’re not giving her a car.” I knew what kinds of sports cars he drove. None of them were safe for a speed devil like Katya to drive.
Damon nodded in earnest. “No need to give her the means to flee from us.”
Angel shrugged. “It’s already done. You’re just kicking yourself that you didn’t think of it yourself.”
I scowled. “I’m not the one who’s going to get a kicking.”
“Those books you’ve been studying ain’t gonna help you for shit,” Damon said, interrupting our stare-off. He pointed at the sky. “You’re gonna need an act of God to get back in Katya’s good graces.”
I raised a brow. “God?”
He nodded. “To show her you’re human and not all about battle tactics and schemes.”
“Weareall about battle tactics and schemes. Our Bratva is built upon those principles. In fact, as I recall, you are the one who excels most at those things.”
“True, but I’m not a woman with flowers and hearts in her eyes. Our Katya appears all tough, but the girl is hurt. She can also be as stubborn as an ox, so she won’t break before you do. And when I say act of God, I was more thinking of the ancient Olympians, if you get what I mean. They always had a way in.”
The ancient Greeks had brought a lot to the world—democracy, philosophy, tragedies. But most of all, they had excelled at warfare, both internal and external, with battalions as well as with one-man armies.
I was still pondering this as I made my way to my study from the garage. Sokolov already awaited me there. I knew he wanted to go over our plans to smoke out Aslanov.
I glanced at Sokolov, who waited for me to come up with suggestions. All I could think of, however, was my wife, and the fact that I had blue balls.
He and I had already hashed out our differences in the gym over him telling the world that Katya was Aslanov’s daughter. It had resulted in a gash above his left eyebrow, and bruises to my ribs. However, we were good now. As with everything, to Sokolov Katya was just business, she had never been personal.
