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Morgana cocks her head. "A guy called Vito Serra. He's horrible. I went to dinner with him last night, and he tried to hit me."
I turn away fast so she doesn't see the rage on my face.
That's enough for me. The fucker isdead.
Despite my efforts to hide it, Morgana picks up on my fury. "Oh no," she says, taking a step toward me. "From what he told me, he's not some two-bit loser like Hektor. Don't go looking for him. You'll get hurt."
I look at her, furrowing my brow. "The fuck do you care?"
"I don't, but you might get murdered. What will happen tomethen?"
My uncle David would continue to care for the bratva's interests. Still, Morgana would either be eliminated before she became a liability or gifted to a rival to sweeten a deal.
"I'm not going anywhere tonight,lisichka." I make for the door. "Call your friend."
9
Vlad
"Dyadya, I need a word."
David hangs up his coat. "I'm sure you do. You left a pile of corpses in some Yorkville shithole, correct?"
How the fuck does he know that?
David sees the question on my face. "I was at Joe Morelli's café, talking a little business. One of his busboys said he'd seen you going into a bar with a girl."
"That doesn't tell you shit," I say. "You went looking for me?"
"I was curious, so I stuck my head through the door. Were you gonna just leave a mess?"
I hate his nagging tone. Doesn't he realize he'll be answering to me soon?
David is more intelligent than my father but cut from the same cloth. Like me, he's the less-favored son, but he's the younger of the two and never married. It's as though protecting and serving the family is David's way of honoring his father, despite their distant relationship. I can relate to that, but Papa has recently given him a little responsibility, and he's gotten too used to it.
"Sasha wrangled a clean-up crew," I say. "Should the Pakhan-in-waiting be on his knees picking up bits of skull? We pay people to do that."
"It's not good business to kill people first and ask questions later," David says, following me into the rear lounge.
"Maybe not," I say, "but the guy didn't show respect. If he'd had the sense to come to us, we'd have appraised him of the fucking rules. His lack of manners got him killed."
David goes to the drinks trolley and pours himself a vodka. He doesn't offer me one.
"Did it occur to you," he says, sitting on a leather armchair, "that he might be under someone's protection? He worked for a rival of ours, perhaps?"
It had occurred to me, yes. But I was too ready to spill Hektor's blood, and it wasn't until my own blood had cooled that I started to think. Best not to tell him that, though. I can't have anyone knowing that the dead man was my fiancée's pimp.
"Why did you kill those people, Vladi?" David asks, fixing me with a stare.
The best way to lie is to disguise it amongst truths. I'm less likely to give myself away if most of what I say is factual.
"Because one of them threatened my wife-to-be, Morgana," I say. "You'll meet her tomorrow. She's the daughter of George Bloom. I collected her, then called on Hektor to warn him off. He wouldn't listen, so I took decisive action."
David narrows his eyes. "Your father insists you marry, and you rock up with a bride the same day? Impressive. How did you get her to agree?"
"George owed money to Niko the Flea. I cleared the debt so George would owe me instead, and when that wasn't enough incentive, I told Morgana I'd kill her father if she resisted."
David sips his drink and grins at me. "Diabolical. I like it. You think you can trust her?"
