Torrid (Sordid 2)

Renting out Il Piacere for the evening wasn’t cheap, and this was the second time I’d done it. I looked at the empty tables around us and tried to keep my anger at simmer, rather than rolling boil. This was going to be his second no-show. We’d killed his father. He was allowed to be pissed about that, but it’d been more than a month since they’d put Sergey in the ground.

The side of my neck itched. The stitches had come out two weeks ago, and the scar was a red, angry line. I didn’t mind it, and Oksana said it was sexy. A reminder of what we’d been through. Proof I had part of her inside me.

As I expected, no FBI showed up the next day to take us into custody. Sure, the cops would find my DNA all over the place, but what else might they find? Oksana said the office was her father’s favorite room to take people out. They might find stuff to close half a dozen missing person cases. It was too risky for Konstantine to get authorities involved, and it’d make him look weak.

Sergey had a heart attack. That was the story they chose to go with. Did anyone wonder why it was a closed casket funeral, or why his two bodyguards weren’t at the service? I smiled to myself at the thought.

Filip glared at the server who lingered. “We’re not ready to order yet.”

Oksana sighed. “Maybe we should. We’ve been waiting half an hour.”

Thirty-three minutes, actually, but who was counting? “If he doesn’t show tonight, we’ll keep doing this until he—”

Konstantine appeared in the lobby, flanked by two enormous men. Their necks were thicker than their heads. It was overkill, but whatever. As they approached the table, her brother’s gaze locked onto me. Konstantine wasn’t his father and didn’t have as hard of an edge, but the sudden promotion in his family had sharpened him up. Impressive hate burned in his eyes.

That wasn’t fair. Sergey had tried to slash my throat. It was a miracle he hadn’t hit an artery, or I would have bled out in the Lexus and been dead minutes after leaving the house.

Konstantine wore a gray suit and smoothed a hand down his black tie as he sat, but his posture cried he’d like to be anywhere else but this table. He looked at Filip, then back to me. His blue eyes wouldn’t move toward her.

“Thanks for coming,” I said.

“Let’s get this over with. What the fuck do you want?”

Oksana took a breath. “To tell you why I did it.”

He kept his gaze on me. “You said this was business.”

“It is business. My uncle was going to have you killed. He wanted all-out war. But me? I don’t want that. Do you?”

Konstantine stared at the folded napkin propped up on the plate in front of him. “You came into my family’s home and murdered my father. We’re already at war.”

“Vasilije didn’t kill him,” Oksana said. “I did.”

It was semantics. Her first shot had been lethal. Sergey had been wheezing as his lung collapsed, and only minutes left to live before I’d delivered my head shot and ended him. Her brother’s attention slowly, finally shifted to her, and her already stiff posture somehow straightened under his intensity.

“He was our father.”

She raised her chin, defiant. “I know you loved him, but you also know he was a monster, and he had it fucking coming.”

I put my hand over my mouth to hide the smile. God, she was sexy when she was strong. She went with me everywhere now. My silent, lethal queen.

“Business,” I reminded. “My uncle wanted you dead, and Oksana saved you. We don’t need a war. There’s enough business here to go around.”

He looked offended. “You want a truce? You think I’m going to—”

“A partnership.” I set my hand on top of Oksana’s on the tabletop. “Our families can work together.”

He acted like I just pulled a gun on him, and jolted back in his seat. “Are you fucking insane?”

I smirked. “Probably.”

“No,” he said. “Absolutely no.”

I clenched my teeth. “Feel free to take some time to think about it.” He was too emotional about this. A smart guy would see the deal I was offering was good.

Konstantine’s expression hardened as he stared at his sister. “You betrayed the family. You’re not a Petrov anymore.”

Her tone was incredulous. “I never was.”

“You betrayed me, Oksana.”

The pain in his voice was mirrored in her eyes, and I couldn’t stand it. I owed this guy. He’d stopped Ilia from doing more damage than he already had, and protected the girl I’d eventually fall in love with.

“She saved your life,” I announced. “We’re not at war, unless you come after her.” Then, all bets were off. I’d tear Chicago apart to keep her beside me. “It’s your move, Konstantine.”