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She smiles wide, a mischievous glint behind those dazzling blue eyes of hers. “Have a lovely day, Mr. Nicolaevich,” she says as she leaves.
I’m only a little ashamed to say I’m harder now than when she first crawled onto my lap. MaybeI’mthe one who needs to get my head checked.
Chapter 11
Sandra
I’ve spent my whole life watching Dad at work, but I never realized how muchpaperworkwas involved with running a Bratva. Nothing’s actually physical—because why on Earth would we make the mistake of leaving behind a trail for cops to follow—but the administrative duties of a pakhan are honestly mind boggling.
Treaties, funds transfers, general territory management…
“My head hurts,” I grumble from behind Dad’s desk.
He chuckles beside me, tapping the computer screen with a patient smile. “You’ll get used to it. It’ll come easier with time. You’ll be doing all this stuff with your eyes closed before you know it.”
I push his keyboard away and give him a hard look. “Did you remember to take your medication today? Shouldn’t you be in bed? You need to rest and—”
Dad pats me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. Your mother’s giving me enough grief as it is.”
“A heart attack,” I grumble, still in disbelief.
Dad’s always been as fit as a bull. I think a part of me feels guilty for not being here when it happened. Or more importantly—for being thereasonbehind his heart attack. It’s just another reminder that Dad’s getting older and won’t be here forever. Just thinking about it makes my eyes prickle.
“You have enough on your plate to focus on,” he says. “My ticker’s plenty fine. I’m more concerned about you.”
“Whataboutme?”
“Is there anything you want to tell me? How did the meeting at the bathhouse go? Was our intel correct in that Andrei was trying to strike up a deal with them?”
I freeze, a deer caught in the headlights.Ooh, boy. Where do I even begin and how many details can I leave out?
Teasing Andrei was never part of my game plan, but the moment I overheard that weasel trying to convince Akim and Ruslun—both low-level street dealers with a significant following but not enough influence to be a problem for us—to work for him, I lost it. I just wanted to ruffle his feathers. I didn’t expect him to be so…aroused. I’m sure as hell not telling my father that,. I’d honestly rather die than admit the truth to him.
“It went fine,” I mumble sheepishly. “I ambushed them on their way out of the bathhouse and made them an offer they couldn’t refuse.”
“Good. Excellent.” Dad smiles with pride.
I let out a deep sigh. “I think I’m going to call it a night. I’ve been staring at this screen for so long I have a migraine.”
“Alright, sweetheart. Get some rest. You’re doing very well.”
I smile as I rise out of his chair—one that feels too big for me, both metaphorically and physically. “Good night, Dad.”
“Good night, Sandy.”
I climb the stairs to the second floor and wander down the hall. Charlotte and I shared a room when we were young, but now we have a Jack and Jill sort of suite. A bathroom the size of most apartments allows us access to each other’s rooms without having to go into the hallway.
I peek in her room since the door is open, and I’m not at all surprised when I find her standing in front of her wardrobe mirror, twisting so she can check out her own ass—which also happens to bemyass—in the short silver dress she’s trying on.
“Oh!” she exclaims. “You’re finally finished.”
I laugh softly. “Were you waiting for me?”
“Uh,duh.” Charlotte skips over and takes my hand, dragging me to her wardrobe.
Our taste in clothing couldn’t be further from one another. Where I prefer muted colors and functional clothing—jeans that are easy to run in, sweaters that can help me conceal my pistol—Charlotte has always had a flair for designer brands. The brighter and bolder the color, the happier she is. My twin rifles through her things and pulls out an emerald green mini dress, tossing it my way.
“We’re going to that new club downtown,” she announces.
