AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Bianca turns, her eyes nearly bugging out of their sockets when she sees I’ve drawn a weapon. “What are you doing?” she hisses.
“What’s this mudak doing here? At my fucking wedding.” I press the gun harder against his ribs. God, I have an itchy trigger finger right now, and nothing would bring me more happiness than blowing this guy’s face off. A hush falls over the room, and heads snap in our direction.
“Put the gun away, Daniil,” Bianca pleads. “You’re making a scene.”
I don’t even bother glancing up, my full attention is lasered on Jorge, bristling with barely contained violence.
“Touch her again, and they’ll need dental records to ID your remains,” I spit.
Before I can make good on my threat, a familiar voice rumbles low in my ear. “What in the hell is going on?”
Yeah, I should have seen that coming.Andrei and Emilio intervene, pulling us both down the hall and into a study. Emilio pushes Días into a chair. Elbows resting on his spread legs, even with his injured arm still in a sling, he glares up at me, hatred rippling through every feature. At Andrei’s insistence, I take the seat across from him, leaving my brother by my side, while Emilio remains standing.
“Care to explain what that was about?” Andrei motions between us.
“Happy to,” I say, cracking my neck. “What’s this fucker doing at my wedding, talking to my wife?”
“Easy, tiger,” Andrei murmurs.
Emilio shrugs as if this is all a simple misunderstanding. “He’s my top lieutenant, my right-hand. What happened between Jorge and Bianca is over. We’re all adults here. Jorge understands that a marriage to you was best for everyone.”
Días smirks at me. “Water under the bridge,parce. I was just offering Bianca my congratulations on her nuptials.”
“Bullshit,” I spit. Whatever words were exchanged between Bianca and Días, they weren’t happy ones.
“Enough,” Emilio growls. “You two are going to be working closely soon. Jorge will be in charge of laundering Zega money at the Bellair.”
What the fuck? I glance over at Andrei. His expression remains neutral, but I don’t miss the tightening of his jaw.
“That’s not what we discussed.” Andrei stands to his full height and buttons his jacket. “I don’t think it’s wise considering the bad blood between them.”
Emilio doesn’t flinch. “There’s no one else I trust to oversee that level of operation. We’re going to be pumping a lot of money into your casino, Kozlov. It needs to be handled by my right-hand.”
A tense silence falls over the room. Andrei looks at me with a question in his eye—can I handle it?
I don’t like Días; I don’t trust him; I want nothing to do with him, but I also know the principles ofThe Art of War: keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
And The Madman is most certainly my enemy. But is Bianca? I plan to find that out.
I sigh, as if it costs me everything to agree to Emilio’s terms. “As long as he doesn’t go near Bianca, we won’t have an issue.” And I mean that. He can fuck with me all he wants, but the minute he comes near the woman bearing my ring and my name, he’s a dead man. My eyes land on Días’s smirking face, so I address him directly. “Any issues you keep between us. Between men. Understand?”
“Perfectly.” He gets up and straightens his tie. “Bianca’s all yours, my friend, I’ve already moved on.”
“So it’s settled.” Andrei crosses his arms, blasting everyone with a don’t-fuck-with-the-pakhan glare. “If my business suffers from your macho bullshit, you’ll both pay.”
“Of course,” Días says between clenched teeth. I reluctantly grumble my acquiescence as well, but if my brother thinks it’s that simple, he’s dead wrong.
I don’t trust the Zegas, and I never will.
CHAPTERNINE
BIANCA
The soundof smashed glass from the terrace nearly makes me jump out of my skin. Whatever is going on outside isn't good. Daniil’s been out there for the last hour, holed up with a bottle of Macallan, while I pace our hotel suite aimlessly, waiting for him to come inside and claim me as his bride.
Maniacal laughter nearly slips from my mouth when I catch my reflection in the bedroom mirror. I am in way over my head. Dolled up like a sex kitten, my hair cascades down my back in waves, strappy stilettos adorn my feet, and I’m wearing a black lace bra-and-panty set worthy of a Victoria’s Secret runway.
I scream sex.
