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“And, Iliya, make sure the same warning as last time is delivered to all male guests upon entry.”
* * *
The Russian pakhan narrows his eyes at me, then looks at the older man sitting next to him, saying something in Russian. I place my palm on Sienna’s knee. A small smirk breaks across her lips as I slowly stroke her skin while she continues to mess around with her phone.
“I’ll take an entire load of the Romanians’ ammunition,” the pakhan states, “but I want an additional five percent discount for getting rid of the truck for you.”
“I’m already selling you the goods way under the market value, Roman.”
“That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”
I give him a pointed stare and nod. This transaction is more about the principle. I want Bogdan’s shit gone.
“The word around is that you also have another type of product to offer,” he adds. “I’d like to pick something out for my wife.”
“You won’t get any discount on that.”
“I’m not concerned about the price when I buy things for my wife,” he barks, visibly offended.
“Let’s go to my office, then.” I kiss Sienna’s bare shoulder. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
“I’ll go check if Tara needs help.” She turns toward the other side of the club where my sister is standing with two guys, both seem to be trying to get her to the dance floor.
“All right.”
I follow Sienna with my eyes as she leaves the booth and heads toward the group. The men standing with Tara notice Sienna’s approach, their heads snapping in my direction a moment later. I let them see in my eyes what will happen if either is still there when my wife reaches them. Both men mumble something and hightail it out of there. Good.
“The vibe here is super weird tonight,” I mumble.
Tara casually takes a sip of her sangria. “How so?”
“Your friends ran away the moment they saw me approaching.” I glance at the waiter carrying drinks, and his head turns to the side as soon as he sets his eyes on me. People seem to be trying really hard not to meet my gaze. In fact, it’s like everyone is purposely avoiding looking at me. Or, men at least. “Is my dress that awful?”
Tara sizes me up, her eyes halting for a few moments on the feathered bodice. “It’s the most outrageous piece of clothing I’ve ever seen. But nope, it’s not the dress.”
“Then, why?”
“They received Drago’s warning at the entrance.”
“A warning? Oh my God, did he tell people I brought a gun? It’s not even loaded! I only took it because Drago insisted. I’d never shoot at anyone, well, except your brother.”
Tara chokes on her drink, her eyes bulging. “You shot at Drago?”
“Long story.” I wave my hand. “I should have left the gun with the bouncers like everyone else.”
“The gun is not the problem. It’s the spoon that terrifies them.”
“The spoon?”
She smiles into her glass. “Yup. They’re extremely worried about that spoon.”
“Are you drunk?”
Tara doesn’t get a chance to reply because a blond man in his late twenties wraps his arm around her waist from behind.
“I knew it was you, Tara darling,” he slurs. “How long has it been? Three years?”
She rolls her eyes and removes his hand from her middle. “Leave, Gary. You know I don’t mess around with my brother’s business associates.”
