Page 33 of His Ruthless Queen

The waitress comes over, smiling as she approaches. “Hey, there. Looks like we finally have our party together. Appetizers should be out soon. Can I get you started with some drinks?”

Corbin slams his vodka back while Jericho orders. “Finlandia Vodka for the three of us. Bring us two glasses each.”

“I’ll take a glass, too,” I say, not wanting to be left out.

Plus, I’ll need the liquid courage to deal with whatever is happening here. Anton Vasiliev has been the head of the New York Bratva for years now. I try to dig deep into the conversations my siblings have had over dinner throughout the years, but come up short. I’m not sure if Anton has siblings, or maybe these are cousins? How deep does Mafia history freaking go with the Vasilievs? I’ve always been so against this lifestyle, that I refused to pay attention. Now, it’s coming to bite me in the ass.

I decide to go with my gut, and assume these are Anton’s siblings. Scotty hasn’t reacted with violence, or told me we need to leave, so I’m trusting that I’m not in danger, despite the very Russian target on my back.

“Finnish vodka,” I say, when the server is gone. “For the Russian siblings of the pakhan of New York.” I reach for my wine, forcing myself not to shake as I bring the glass to my lips.

I’ve been under worse pressure. I’ve had the hands of men on me without my consent, had a man break into my home just a few nights ago and wrap his hands around my throat. Casual conversation with the enemy is nothing for me.

“Smart girl,” Jericho says, his voice low and soothing as he flashes me a wink. He turns to Corbin. “I like her.”

“Our mother was Finnish,” Yuliya says, her tone flat as she eyes me. “I take it your brother hasn’t filled you in on the day’s events?”

I down the wine in one gulp, setting it back on the table. What is that supposed to mean? “My brother doesn’t mention a lot of things to me. I prefer not to be involved.”

I turn to Corbin. “Though, I’m sure he’s mentioned it to you.”

He dips his chin, his greenish-brown eyes speaking more volumes than his collected smile. And there is a sadness in his eyes. One that I have a feeling links to the blondie sitting across from me. “Yuliya will be staying in New York to help Cal find Vlad.”

“So, Vlad, the son of your brother, is an enemy of yours too, then?” I ask Jericho.

“He is,” Jericho says. The waiter comes by with a tray of eight glasses of vodka, and serves them before heading away. “And we’re here to help. We’re not a threat to you.”

I turn to Yuliya, eyeing her. Her brows are pinched together, but her face is long and slim, and her eyes are a breathtaking blue. I smile, seeing what Corbin sees in her. She’s got a physical strength I could only wish to have, and Corbin is addicted to power. Strength is how he’ll get it. I also get why he can’t be with her publicly.

She’s associated with the Bratva, and he’s gunning for the White House. My heart aches that we’re both in this position, unable to be with who we truly want.

Corbin dips his face into my ear, nuzzling his nose against my cheek. I grin, placing my hand over his on the table. It’s clear he’s wanting to make her jealous, and I’m not above playing games. Besides, it’ll make Scotty jealous too. Her gaze drops to where our hands are combined, and I don’t miss the dilation of her pupils and the slight flare of her nostrils.

“So, how do you guys know each other?” I ask, sipping my glass of vodka.

“Corbin and I have done some humanitarian work overseas together,” Jericho says.

I nearly choke on the burn of the liquor. “I don’t believe that.”

“You shouldn’t,” Yuliya says, a smirk on her face. “These two fools can’t be trusted.”

“No, I don’t think they can,” I say with an amused sigh.

The waitress returns with the appetizers Corbin ordered. She flashes Jericho a smile and he returns with a wink. Yuliya downs her second glass and they order more.

“Jesus, sweetheart, slow down before you get us all under the table.” Corbin laughs, and she playfully scowls at him, a pink blush coating her cheeks.

“Someone has to show you who’s boss,” she teases, slapping him on the arm.

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” His eyes darken, the jovial glint gone. “Pretty sure I’ve been in control of this whole thing.”

Then they change back to the same blank, vibrant, and happy eyes they always were. As if it never happened.

Dinner carries on for two hours, and Corbin is rightly toasted. He reaches out and tugs at Yuliya’s braid. She blushes, and I’m not sure how Jericho hasn’t put together the pieces of this story. How he hasn’t realized his best friend is pining for his little sister.

“I need to head to the ladies room,” I say, coming to my feet.

“Okay, honey,” Corbin says, waving a dismissive hand in the air before turning his tender eyes back to Yuliya.

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