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“Seriously? This is such—”
“Are you hard of hearing, or do we have to repeat ourselves?” I cut across him.
Kap’s bluster faded, and he narrowed his eyes at me, dropping any pretense that he wasn’t a bully. His usually handsome face looked piggish and pinched. “You’re brave when everyone is watching, aren’t you, Madison? I’m not someone you want to pick a fight with. I’ll make you regret it.”
“Looking forward to it. Now fuck off and stop boring me,” I said in a flat tone.
The assembled crowd was silent. Kap glared at us before he slapped Kirill’s hand away, turned on his heel, and pushed through the crowd.
“And I thought I was bad at making friends,” Kirill said quietly as we were finally left alone.
“What are you talking about? I’m a natural, clearly,” I muttered and looked him up and down.
“I don’t want you to get yourself in trouble for me. I can handle it. I don’t care what he does.”
Those words felt weird as they sank through my chest like stones, settling deep inside. This stranger, this boy without money, influence, or status, didn’t want me to make his life easier if it cost me. I wasn’t sure what to do with that kind of consideration. It was alien to me, and it was an uncomfortable weight on my shoulders before finally settling around me like a warm blanket.
“Don’t put yourself on his radar. Guys like that . . . they might seem harmless, but sometimes, they can snap,” he said, staring down the hall where Kap had disappeared. There it was again, that warming feeling. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had cared about me selflessly. Everyone in my life wanted something from me: money, power, influence, control.
“How about you watch my back, and I’ll watch yours, weird boy?” I suggested quietly. I’m not quite sure why my mouth suddenly felt stuffy, and my heartbeat echoed in my chest uncomfortably. Kirill’s full mouth tilted up at the corner. It was barely a smile, but it felt like sunlight on a neglected flower for a moment, and I drank it up.
A smile from this boy who wanted nothing from me.
“Deal.”
And just like that, I had a friend.
12
KIRILL
NOW
“Sit, Kirill, and let me introduce you to your fiancée.” Viktor’s voice scraped across my nerves.
I drew out a chair at the table where he sat, squatting like a vicious toad, warning me with his eyes not to protest. Niko sat on his other side, his expression pure amused malice.
The other people at the table rose when I approached. Sofia De Sanctis and her father, Antonio. Antonio was old school. The De Sanctis’s base of power was New Jersey, and it was rare for them to venture out of the playground of Atlantic city and the surrounding cities. I’d heard that they held influence in Philly lately, and now, it seemed that Antonio De Sanctis was turning his attention to my city. The temptation to make inroads into the fat pie that was New York was turning Antonio’s head. Little did he know I had no intention of marrying his sacrificial daughter. I wouldn’t abide by Viktor’s wishes or make waves for the Chernov bratva in New York by helping another family enter the market.
“Good evening,” I said, shaking Antonio’s hand and turning to Sofia. She met my eyes curiously. I sensed reserve in her as I took her cold hand and shook it impersonally. “Please, sit.” She was stunning, but her looks left me cold.
As soon as we were all seated, servers descended with drinks. Niko was watching Sofia and me with rapt attention. His dark, rakish eyes fell on Sofia often. I’d heard something had happened between them years ago. I knew she was responsible for the thin, white scar on Niko’s handsome face, slicing from his eyebrow down to the corner of his mouth. It was invisible in certain lights, but the mark was clear in daylight. Somehow, it gave him a more roguish air, like he was a swashbuckling pirate. Now, he glowered at Sofia across the table as if he’d love to get his hands on her, and he probably would.
I took a long swallow of the champagne that had been served.
“Saluti,”Antonio said, raising his flute in a toast. “To mutually beneficial partnerships and expanding the family.” His Italian accent was still thick despite his many years ruling Chicago.
“To family,” Viktor agreed. He knocked back his flute and downed half the contents as Antonio sipped at his. They looked a world apart, my Russian ex-con father and the De Sanctis distinguished-looking patriarch.
“Not drinking, Kirill?” Niko was quick to point out.
“Surely it’s too early to celebrate unions.” I placed my glass on the table. “I’m sure this is the preliminary discussion, seeing as Sofia and I are only now getting involved,” I said calmly.
Viktor shot me a dark look. “Whether you have been involved or not, it doesn’t mean this deal is only beginning. Antonio and I know what is best for our families.”
Nikolai grinned, enjoying the tension. “I don’t know. I still think Sofia should change her mind about the groom. Kirill is dull… dead inside.”
“And you’re a psychopath,” Sofia said with a viscously sweet smile. “I’d rather die of boredom than be cut into pieces by you when you felt like it.”
