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Vlad looks at me. "There are two answers to that question. First, I don't think you'd do something like that. You aren't the type. And you don't evenlikeme."
I smile. "And the other answer?"
He strokes my arm. "The thought of filling you with my come and getting you pregnant tipped me over the edge." He grins at my shocked expression. "I'd love to fuck a baby into you, Morgana.Areyou on birth control?"
"Yes," I say. "The pill."
"Shame." He raises an eyebrow. "If you decide to stay with me, you won't take that anymore."
"One thing at a time, Vladi."
By the time I return from the bathroom, Vlad is asleep. I lie beside him, listening to his breathing.
I could stay with him. Have his children, be his wife for real. Time will tell whether my husband's feelings for me are genuine, but there's hope in my heart.
He still frightens me a little, though. I allow myself an ironic smile.
I could be a good bratva wife, after all.
33
Three hours earlier…
Cassius
So he used the same clean-up crew for two murder scenes? Trusov asks. "How careless."
"Perhaps he was trying to keep Serra's murder quiet." I light a cigar. "It wasn't him who organized the disposal of Hektor and his men. That would explain a mistake like that. It's a minor error, but it was all I needed. I found one of the guys and he told me what I needed to know."
"So it appears Vladimir Kislev killed HektorandSerra. Do we know why?"
"No idea." I blow a smoke ring. "Hektor was probably being mouthy with the wrong people. He was an idiot, Ira. Why you trusted him, I'll never know."
"His father was a good friend of mine," Trusov says, glaring at me. "So watch your fucking mouth."
Asshole.He never misses a chance to remind me I'm just a hired hand.
When I first got out of prison, he talked a good game. Waxed lyrical about me being family, his right-hand man, and all that bullshit. But I have no hold over him. I'm an employee. His son will inherit his bratva, and that fucker hates me.
My father's words intrude on my thoughts.
You're a little bitch, Cass. Easy to push around. Look what happens when I shove you like this—
"Are you listening to me?" Trusov asks.
"Sorry, Boss." I raise my palm in deference. "What do you want me to do?"
"I can't ask you to kill the new pakhan of New York's most powerful bratva," he says. "The game has changed. But he still murdered one of my men without discussing the matter with me first, and that's poor form. I'll admit Hektor was prone to stupidity, but whatever offense he caused could have been resolved amicably." Trusov picks up his whiskey, swilling it around the glass. "Meet with Vladimir and tell him I want to understand what happened here. I can't let the matter go, but he's not some street scum, and I'd be interested in hearing his side of the story."
"What if he decides to kill me, too?" I ask, stubbing the cigar out on the arm of the chair. "You could just call him."
"I don't fuckingknowhim," he says, irritation creeping into his voice. "I will not ring him and arrange a meeting. You're not a pakhan and never will be, but believe me—that's not how it's done."
I keep my expression neutral, but I'm seething inside. Trusov was rattled to discover that the man I've been hunting is also a bratva leader, but he's behaving like an absolute pussy. I know damn well what he's worried about—he thinks Hektor pissed this Kislev guy off royally, and it's gonna be us on the back foot. He's happy to risk me getting murdered just so he can gauge the fucking mood?
Okay, fine. But I may have an ace in the hole.
I know of someone with influence over this situation. Whether that will benefit Trusov or just me remains to be seen.
