Blood King Preview
JULIAN
This asshole thinks he’s intimidating me.
I’m sitting in Sergei Ivanov’s office, across from the man himself, who’s puffing away on a disgusting cigar. He’s so fucking cheap, he doesn’t even have the decency to smuggle Cubans in.
Sergei’s refusal to part with money is the reason I’m sitting here in the first place.
“Your son is late,” he says with a heavy Russian accent, as if it might be lost on me that Elliott isn’t in the room.
“He’ll be here,” I reply. I don’t bother to check my phone or my watch and show any kind of weakness in front of the head of the Bratva.
Elliott will be here.
“I’m a busy man, Mr. Stavros. If you’re wasting my time—”
“I’m not wasting anyone’s time, and you’re not the only man in this room who has other business to attend to. Let’s get started.”
Sergei’s eyes narrow, and then he grunts, and the man standing to his right sets a black folder on the desk.
“I took the liberty of having my attorney write a contract.”
I lift an eyebrow. “A marriage contract?”
“That’s right.”
I won’t be signing anything this idiot sets in front of me, but I offer him a congenial smile.
“And what are the terms in this contract?”
“Well, there’s all kinds of legal speak here, but basically, your son marries my daughter, and my debt to you is forgiven.”
Oh, his debt will never be forgiven.
“What else?”
“I think it’s pretty standard. If Elliott cheats on her, he’ll have to pay her ten million dollars—”
“You mean you.”
Sergei’s eyes narrow. “That’s right.”
“And if she cheats?”
“She won’t.”
My lips twitch. “You seem so sure of yourself.”
“My daughter has been raised to be the perfect organized crime wife. She knows what’s expected of her. She’ll remain faithful, she’ll take her punishments, and she’ll never ask for a divorce.”
She’ll take her punishments.
I’d like to pull the gun from the small of my back and fill his head with lead. Better than that, I’d prefer to pull my knife out and flay the skin from his pathetic, fat body.
Instead, I hold his gaze with mine.
“No.”
His face turns red, but I don’t give him time to argue.
“I’m not signing that or anything else you put in front of me.
We’ve agreed to an alliance between our organizations with the marriage of my son to your daughter.
That’s the agreement. I won’t pay you a fucking dime if one of them fucks up.
You have my word that Natasha will be cared for, and while the money you owe me—all one hundred million of it—will be forgiven, it’s not forgotten, Sergei.
And any future money you owe me will not be forgiven. ”
His jaw is so tight, I can hear his molars grinding together.
“Papa?”
We all glance to the doorway, and I’m pretty sure one of these fuckers just shot me in the head and I’m dead because I’m looking at a literal angel.
This woman is fucking gorgeous in a white dress that flows just past her knees and shows off ample cleavage. Long blond hair flows in waves past her shoulders, her eyes are striking blue, the color of Kashmiri sapphires, and her glossy pink lips press in a line with uncertainty.
He’s willing to sell this beautiful woman’s soul away for a measly one hundred million?
I should kill him where he sits for even considering it.
“You wanted to see me?” Her voice is soft, and her eyes shift between her father and me with unease.
“Yes, come in, malyshka.” Sergei hardly looks at her as he waves her in. “Sit.”
“I don’t want to intrude—”
“SIT!” he yells and slams his fist on his desk, and Natasha hurries to the chair near the one I’m in and takes a seat. Her back is perfectly straight, hands are folded in her lap, one ankle crossed behind the other, and she looks down at the floor obediently.
I’d really like to gut this asshole.
“This is Julian Stavros,” Sergei tells his daughter, gesturing to me. “I’ve arranged for a marriage.”
She gasps, her spine snaps even straighter, and those beautiful eyes turn to me. She blinks, looks me up and down, and her cheeks darken.
Interesting.
“I’m marrying him?” she asks timidly just as the door opens once more.
“Sorry I’m late.”
I sigh and don’t bother to look behind me as Elliott strolls into the room. I can smell the whiskey on him from here, and God only knows what casino he left to get here.
“Elliott,” Sergei says with a nod. “This is Natasha. Your bride.”
I haven’t taken my eyes off her. She swallows hard, a slight frown appearing between her brows.
She wants to object.
She takes her punishments.
“My what now?” Elliott asks, and I finally look up at my son. “Since when am I getting married?”
“If you’d answered any one of my calls over the past three days, this wouldn’t be news to you.” My voice is calm, because I’ll never give Sergei the satisfaction of seeing any emotion from me, but I’m going to have it out with my kid later.
Elliott blinks at me, then looks over at Natasha, and when his gaze rakes over her gorgeous body, his lips spread in a smile. I want to push him out of the way and claim her for myself.
Which is fucking ridiculous.
“I’m so sorry for my manners,” Elliott says as he holds a hand out for hers. “I’m Elliott.”
“Natasha,” she answers, eyeing his hand. She doesn’t want to touch him, it’s written all over her perfect face, but she holds her breath and slides her hand into his. “Hello.”
“Excellent,” Sergei says. “Let’s have some vodka.”
“No, thank you,” I reply before my son can drink the man out of house and home. “The wedding will be in six weeks. We’ll be in touch.”
I stand and stare my son in the eyes.
“Let’s go,” I say, gesturing with my chin, and he smiles one more time at Natasha before he walks out of the room ahead of me.
When we’re outside, he turns to talk to me, but I beat him to it.
“Not here. There are ears. Get in the car.”
“But I drove my own car.”
“Get in the fucking back seat, Elliott.” My patience is wearing thin with my son.
He looks like he wants to argue, but finally sighs and slides into the back of the Range Rover, and I follow him. We have three other vehicles, and ten men with us, and we pull down the driveway and out onto the road.
“What the fuck, Dad?”
“We need an alliance with the Russians.”
He’s staring at me, his eyes suddenly sober. “I’ve been seeing Kitty for three months.”
“And now you’re not.”
He shakes his head, and I lay it out for him. “You’ll marry her, and you’ll honor that marriage, El.”
“Or?”
“Or I’m done. No more bailing you out. No more helping you. I’ll cut you off and act like I’ve never met you in my life.”
His jaw drops. “You wouldn’t do that.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
I lift an eyebrow, and he knows this is his last chance with me. He knows what’s at stake.
He sits back in the seat and stares out the window.
“I guess it’s a good thing I like blonds.”