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I should say no, but fair's fair. "What?"
He grins. "Don't carry on without me. Just hold that thought."
23
Vlad
Sasha, Avel, and I are relaxing for once. It's rare for us to kick back and enjoy each other's company.
This club is not a brothel, but there's very little that money won't buy, especially when we're celebrating. I'm not feeling it tonight, though.
Armen has skipped the festivities. He's prone to paranoia and concerned about the as-yet-undefined threat we may or may not need to deal with.DyadyaDavid is here, but he's killing the vibe.
"Vlad, Vito Serra is dead," David says, slumping beside me. A girl in a tiny leather bikini offers him a shot of vodka, but he swats her away. "Do you know anything about that?"
I take the shot and knock it back. "No," I lie. "And why do you know about it? We don't have any dealings with that asshole anymore."
"Word gets around."
"Who the fuck cares if the fat cunt is dead?" I ask. "Serra was a prick. The only negative consequence I foresee is that thetrattoriain Little Italy might make less money."
"You know, Vladi," David says, lighting a cigar, "I wonder about you. I'm not sure you have the discipline necessary to be a good pakhan."
Rage grips me. "After everything my father put me through to prepare me for this, you're gonna give me that shit? You have no right, David. You're not my father."
"Andyouare nothim, either." David raises his eyebrows. "We've been here for two hours, and you haven't touched a single girl."
"Neither has Sasha. I haven't seen Avel in a while, though. Why don't you find him?"
David catches my none-too-subtle hint and takes his leave. Sasha grabs a bottle of Zubrowska and sits beside me, waving at a girl with a platinum-blonde bob and thigh-high boots.
"Calista, get some clean glasses."
"You're about to tell me I shouldn't let David get to me?" I take the bottle from Sasha and unscrew the cap, sniffing.
"He's got too much to say for himself," Sasha says. "But he's an old man. Papa never let David believe he would take control. You know how it is between them—Papa, the favorite son, and David, always trying to prove something. Once Papa is dead, our dear olddyadyawill calm down. Just put his chair in a sunny spot and make sure Dulcie keeps him in caravan tea, and he'll be fine."
He may be right. David isn't going about it correctly, but he seems highly invested in ensuring I can do the job. It could be less about undermining me than safeguarding the bratva he loves.
"And who knows," Sasha adds, smiling as he takes the glasses from Calista, "perhaps you need him to keep you on track. Look at you now. All these beautiful women want a piece of Vladimir Kislev, billionaire recluse and feared bratva heir, and where are you? Here in body, but in spirit, you're at home with Morgana."
Hearing her name jars me back into the moment. "What?" I ask. "I wasn't listening."
Sasha takes the bottle and pours me a hefty measure. "This is exactly my point, Vladi. What has that girldoneto you? You've never been bewitched before. I've never even heard you say a woman's name, let alone bring one home."
"You know the deal." I throw back the vodka. It burns momentarily before a smooth, herbal aftertaste warms my palate. "Ihaveto get married."
"Yeah, but you choseher." Sasha wags a finger at me. "Any mob family would have served their daughter on a platter, but you went for a woman you don't know—and who doesn't knowyou. Why?"
Because she was beautiful and feisty and gave me shit even after I saved her from being attacked? Because her eyes are full of vitality, not dulled from a lifetime of low expectations and endless expensive trinkets? Because she has a brain in her head and fire in her heart?
"I like her, Sasha." I hold out my glass, and he fills it. "Something about her touches me, and it's not just that she's gorgeous, no matter how hard I try to convince myself otherwise." I decide to change the subject. "What's withyou, anyway? You take girls into the back room two or three at a time. You left your cock at home?"
"Nah." Sasha sounds deflated. "I was ready for a crazy night, but now it seems kinda sordid. Fuck knows where that's coming from."
He's been subdued since he met Josie at the boutique earlier. I suspect he's not so much pining as desperate to screw her, but as she's Morgana's best friend, he's on his best behavior.
David reappears, half-carrying a very drunk Avel. There's a fresh cut on my brother's lip, and he's wearing an idiot grin.
