30. Domenic
I throwmy phone at the wall.
I’m not in the mood for this after hardly any sleep.
Tino isn’t answering. I’m in the den, and I messaged him to be here ages ago, and when I didn’t get any reply, I started to call him. Repeatedly.
I glance at the time. The lack of sleep is playing hell with my temper management. I’d spent most of the night lying on my back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, turning everything over in my head. In the end, I’d gotten up way earlier than usual and summoned the other two to the den.
How the fuck can Tino sleep through all this, and his phone ringing constantly? Do I have the time to run up to his room and drag him down here before Kirill arrives?
The door opens, and Kirill strides in. That will be a no, then. He looks taller, bigger, somehow. It’s as if his delusions of grandeur have affected him physically.
I grind my teeth. Great, no backup, and me with this fucker. I have my knife, though, so if things go south, I can defend myself. Not that I want to cut Kirill, but, if he doesn’t see sense about marrying Mackenzie, there is no way for this to go other than seriously downhill.
“What’s up?” Kirill smirks at me.
His mock American accent has me wanting to drive my fist into his face. Instead, I gesture for him to sit with me on the sofa and hold up the bottle of chilled vodka.
He raises his brows. “It’s a little early for that, no?”
“I thought you Russians drank this stuff from the tit.”
He chuckles. “Da, it is true. Okay, I will take a little, my friend.”
I pour him a shot and one of my own, downing it. Christ, I could do with Tino being here.
“What is this about?” Kiril waves about him as if to indicate the room. “You summoned me.”
“I want to talk to you about friendship.”
He doesn’t answer, but his body seems to tighten as if he’s gone on full alert. “Go on.”
“You know, there’s bad blood between us sometimes. We’re as close as brothers, and there’re always going to be those odd moments when someone does something to piss the other one off. The thing is, though, we’re tight, right? Deep down? We have each other’s backs. Like when I thought your father was going to hurt you.”
“When you ran away like a little bitch.”
His sneer makes me want to backhand him.
“I didn’t fucking run away, I went and got my father, even though he’d given me a beating to end all beatings only a day or so before, and I knew he’d be pissed as hell with me. I did that for you. Because you are my brother.”
He has the decency to glance down at the floor.
“Am I yours, Kill?”
“Of course.”
“Okay. Then why are you asking Mackenzie to marry you?”
He turns to me, his eyes wide.
I laugh. “Did you really think she wouldn’t tell us? Jesus Christ, have you lost your mind? She is ours, all three of us.”
He pushes up from the couch and paces in long, angry strides. “And how will that work, long term? Think about it. Are we going to play house with her? Stay here forever? Of course not. You have to step up, as do I, and Tino will go back to Argentina. She’ll be left twisting in the wind. Your father has a lot of power, but mine has more.”
“The hell he does.”
“He does, Domenic. You might not like it because you see yourself as our leader, but out there.” He breaks off from pacing to jab his finger at the wall. “My father, the Bratva, and the links they have all over Europe, London, and deep into America are very powerful. The men he has? The ability to find people, and end them, and make them disappear, it surpasses what your father can do. Your father, this life here, all of it borders on respectable these days.”
“Yes, asshole, it does. Do you know why?” He shakes his head, so I go on. “Because sometimes soft power is way more potent than hard. My father, our organization, has fucking senators in their pockets. Tech bros who are billionaires bow down to us.” He shrugs. “And? We still have more firepower and men and networks.”
“You’re serious with this, aren’t you?”
“Da. My father wants it.” Some of the fight goes out of him, his shoulders slumping a little as he looks at me. “What am I supposed to do, Dom? He says I must do this.”
“Fuck.” I shake my head. “She doesn’t want to.”
“I know. But I’ll always share her with you.” Then he blindsides me. “If I say no, will you marry her?”
Marriage? Fuck. That seems way too serious right now.
I never thought beyond this, the heady here and now. I knew I was falling, but I didn’t know how hard. The idea of her with Kirill, and me having visitation rights, only makes me see red.
He stares at me. “You have no answer.”
I stare back and then I shake my head. “You’re not marrying her.”
“Fuck you, I am.”
He heads for the door, and I don’t even think. My legs are moving before my brain catches on as, with a roar, I launch myself at him and take him to the floor.