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Pavel chews on the inside of his cheek and stares out the window before answering. “Word is spreading about how you’re treating Clara. And Willow. And why.”
“It’s no one’s fucking business,” I grumble as I reach for a flask inside my top drawer. I need a stiff drink.
“It is when it demonstrates a clear inability to make rational decisions based on evidence and facts.”
“What are you?—”
“She had adream, Demyen. A fuckingdream. And you’ve uprooted and upended their lives because of it.” He remains calm. He doesn’t raise his voice a single decibel.
But that’s always been what makes Pavel an intimidating force to reckon with.
I narrow my eyes at him. “She said it was a memory. She remembered poisoning Michael Little.”
Pavel nods and thinks on it. “Okay. Fair.” He leans back in the chair for a quiet moment, then laughs. “Man, speaking of dreams, I gotta tell you about the one I had just the other night. It waswild.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. So fucking hot, too. I woke up just dripping with sweat.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “I can totally understand your infatuation with her. If my dream was any indication, Clara is afreakin the sheets.”
I’m suddenly seeing red. “The fuck did you just say?”
Pavel leans forward and lowers his voice. “You heard me. I had a sex dream about Clara Everett.”
My jaw sets. He’s goading me, and I’m not going to take the bait.
“What are you gonna do, Dem? I mean yeah, you can go ahead and march me outside and shoot me in front of yourvors. Then you can explain to them how your new strategy for the Bratva’s future is to base major, life-altering decisions on people’s dreams. Oh, and the word of traumatized children. Both those things make total sense as strong foundations for effective leadership.”
I want to tell Pavel the same thing I told Bambi: he’s pretty fucking close to insubordination.
Something tells me he won’t care either way.
“I heard Bambi quit.” He jumps topics, but we both know they’re connected to each other.
I lean back in my chair and make a face. “She just needs time to cool off. She doesn’t know the full story.”
“Does it matter?”
“What?”
“Does it matter if she knows the whole story or not?” Pavel shrugs a shoulder. “I mean, I know the whole story and the only reason why I’m not quitting is because I’ve always believed in a good comeback. And because I know you’re good and fucked if I do quit.”
I can’t ignore the warnings he’s dropping left and right. Even if it’s all undermining my authority aspakhan. “Things can’t be that bad.”
“Mako tried to resign the day after you came back. I convinced him to ride this out for Willow’s sake. Three of yourvorshave been talking about hiring a psychologist for you. Four of them are wondering if you’ve actually lost your actual mind. The rest are bracing themselves for shit to hit the fan and the whole Bratva to go tits up because theirpakhanwould rather listen to the nightmares of a deeply traumatized woman and utilize our valuable resources to pursue a personal vendetta than to focus on actually strengthening the Bratva.”
My logic is truly listening to what he’s saying. And wholeheartedly agreeing. Said out loud, it’s ludicrous. It’s terrible leadership. It’s downright irresponsible.
My pride, however, wants Pavel to shut the fuck up so I can go back to contemplating the ninety different ways I can make Clara’s life a living hell.
Pride assures me that I’m always right and I never make bad decisions.
Logic is laughing its ass off.
“What do you think I should do?”
He steeples his fingers together and studies me. “Let the white whale go, Ahab. Before your crew mutinies and the whole goddamned ship sinks to the bottom of the ocean floor.”
I purse my lips. Then shake my head. “I can’t give up on Tolya.”
