Kir broke the silence after a moment. “You should’ve taken the second one.”
Roman didn’t look at him. “Get out, Kir. You know what to do.”
Kir grunted, stood, and the Russians filed out behind him.
Roman sat back heavily into his chair. I stayed quiet, motionless, unmoving, like a mouse hiding from a starving cat.
The conference room table was covered in blood and the carpeted was soaked with it.
Everything happened to fast. Roman didn’t hesitate—he made a throat, Giatno didn’t believe him, and so Roman followed through. It was nightmarish and terrible how easily Erick was able to slice through the veins on that Italian man’s throat, and how simply Roman was able to order a life snuffed out.
I was in a tiger’s den. He was no house cat.
His claws killed.
18
Roman
What a fucking waste.
Needless death. Unnecessary. If only Giatno could shut his mouth and take orders—
Well, he wouldn’t be Giatno then.
There was a reason so few Oligarchs were interested in working with him.
The bastard was unpredictable and stubborn.
Clever, but difficult.
And now I had to have the conference room cleaned.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” I said without turning around. “I didn’t think things would go so far.” My shoulders slumped forward. I felt tired and heavy. Normally, I was a fountain of energy, but for some reason watching that man die only sucked me dry. I didn’t even know the poor bastard’s name. “I need Giatno, you understand. He must be made to obey, and the only thing a man like that understands is death and violence. If there was another way, I would’ve taken it.”
I wasn’t sure that was true, but I had to keep telling myself it was.
“What happens now?” she asked softly. “Giatno’s going to be a problem for you, isn’t he?”
I slowly turned to face her, eyebrows raised. She gazed back, her face pale, her lips pulled back to show that adorable gap. Her hands shook, but she didn’t look away.
Strong girl. Very strong girl.
Or maybe she was getting used to seeing people die.
“That’s a good question. You realized that already, didn’t you?”
“It’s obvious. He doesn’t like being pushed around. I’m not really sure why he’s even a part of this to begin with.”
“His family’s been struggling lately. He needs my money more than most do and I’m happy to give him funding so long as he does what I want. Unfortunately, life isn’t so simple.”
“He’s going to fight back.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The way he looked at you. Like he was resigned to something.”
I sighed and nodded slowly. “I thought the same thing. I’m glad you saw it too.”
“Why are you doing all this?” Her voice was barely a whisper. The tremor there was hard to miss though.
“Revenge.” I stared into those pretty eyes. “I told you already.”
“For your father. What happened to him? He was killed at a wedding?”
I stood up. I couldn’t stay sitting. The whole damn plan seemed shallow and half-baked now, and all I wanted to do was break something—or bent Cassie over the table and spank her red and raw.
“It happened at my cousin’s wedding three years ago. All the heads of the families were there, from the Japanese to the Australians. Everyone except for Oisin, but there were rumors he was in bad health, so I accept the two lieutenants he sent in his place. They were nice enough men, well dressed, quiet, respectful. I didn’t think much of it.”
I paced around the table, eyes staring at the thick pool of blood on the table as it swirled and dripped off the edge like black rain.
“They made their move at the end of the night. We were outside in a large tent at the edge of a big farm property in upstate New York, a gorgeous wedding, perfect night. The first killer plunged a knife into my father’s heart and said, ‘This is from Oisin to you, pig.’ Then the other shot my father in the face. They ran off into the night before anyone could react. I had our men scour the area for hours but didn’t find any trace of them.”
I stopped at the edge of the stained carpet. I stared down, remembering my father’s mangled body. I smiled when I saw the shocked grimace on his cold, lifeless corpse.
I hated him. Despised him. But nobody came after the Lenkov family and survived, not if we wanted to remain in control.
Father taught me that.
“We found the knife man in a crack house in Baltimore. He was deep into a heroin binge and wasn’t likely to come back out anytime soon. I tried to get information out of him, but detox made that impossible. So I killed him. The gunman was harder to find, but after six months he turned up in Tokyo. The Yakuza held him for me until I could get out there in person and kill him nice and slow.”