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Back in the old days, I wouldn’t give two shits about people I don’t know or don’t have personal stock in. But after Clara, after the auction, after everything…
I’m having a hard enough time sleeping with the images of what I witnessed forever burned into my memory.
“We have a great opportunity to expand our empire,” Oleg continues. “Between Russia and the states, we’re looking at projections of at least triple the normal turnover.”
He leads us into a den furnished with leather lounge seats, a leather wraparound couch, and dark mahogany tables. Antlers adorn the stone wall surrounding a flatscreen entertainment system, and I’m pretty sure the ash trays are carved from ebony.
This must be his favorite room. It’s a study in masculine overcompensation.
He motions to the couch for us to sit and settles into an armchair with a proud sigh. A few barks of Russian slurs later, a newwoman in a negligee silently brings him a tray carrying a lit cigar and a tumbler of vodka.
He grunts when the tray is set down next to him, then flicks his thumb at her. “You want a go?”
“Excuse me?”
“This one has a mouth that can suck your soul through your dick.” He smacks her ass and grins when she yelps. “Her fucking still needs some work, though. Figured you could teach her a thing or two about taking a hard fuck.”
It’s subtle, but she’s trembling. I can see her do her damned hardest not to show just how terrified of him—and me—she really is.
I feign disinterest and opt to not even look at her, even though I wish I could let her know she’s safe with me. I’ve never had a taste for purchased pleasure, and my tolerance for the industry is plummeting fast.
“I’m good.” I flick my hand in dismissal, which she accurately takes as her sign to leave. “Need to keep my focus. And I prefer the thrill of the hunt.”
“A drained dick is a clear head. But suit yourself.” Oleg takes a large swig of his drink and relaxes more in his chair. “I’ve secured a place in the skin trade spanning the southwest market, and these initial women will bring in good money while building our reputation as providers for exclusive clientele.”
I force myself to refrain from curling my nose in disgust. “‘Exclusive clientele’?”
Oleg shrugs and takes a pull from his cigar. “Always best to expand into new territory. Once I figured out where the highrollers were in Russia’s oligarchy, the money started flowing like water. I figured, why not tap into America? Bring that same success to my son’s Bratva.”
“I’m doing just fine, Otets.”
“I didn’t meanyou,” Oleg scoffs.
I study him more closely.What is he scheming?“Do you have another son I don’t know about? Because Tolya is serving a life sentence. Running out of options, if you ask me.”
“I don’t remember asking you. And Tolya won’t be in prison for much longer.”
I lean back into the couch and listen to the leather squeak beneath my weight. “Go on.”
Oleg looks pretty pleased with himself as he takes a sip of vodka and goes back to puffing on the cigar. “You and I both know that whole investigation was fucked from the start. Tolya was nowhere near that warehouse. The evidence was planted and the whole thing a scheme cooked up by LVPD to undermine our family.”
I steal yet another glance at Pavel. Olegdefinitelyhasn’t been talking to Tolya. Or Tolya is trusting him with information as much as I am: zero percent.
“I have to admit, I used to daydream about murdering that little bitch right in front of her father.”
It takes a shit ton of self-control to not whip my head around at the mention of Clara. It takes even more self-control to pretend like I’m not suddenly feeling protective of her even now.
“Oh, really?” is what I manage to ease out with as much casualness as possible.
Oleg nods with a shrug. “Why not? The bitch lied on the stand and imprisoned my son. And she used her daddy dearest to help her do it.”
I’m starting to hear what everyone else around me was hearing when I used to go on similar rants about Clara and her childhood testimony.
It’s fucking ludicrous.
So I allow the snorted laugh to slip out. “She was achild. Not even ten years old, and what sort of grudge would a kid have against our family, anyways? You’re talking like that little girl was some criminal mastermind. With a personal vendetta.”
Oleg rolls his eyes like it’s supposed to be so fucking obvious to me. “She had help! Do you care so little about your own brother to forget who her father was?”
