Chapter 13 #2
He means the arranged marriage to Milena.
“ If it’s something you were considering,” Yuri murmurs quietly, “now might be a good time to put it in writing. As much as I’m hoping for his recovery, and as much as I consider Marko a friend, if he dies, there’s going to be an ugly power grab for his empire.
Both from outside and from within, given that he has no male heir.
If there was a marriage on the table, though—”
“Hey, Yuri?” I interrupt him.
He shrugs. “Forgive me. I’m not trying to meddle. I just try and think long term as much as possible.”
“No offense taken, and I understand perfectly.” I clap him on the shoulder. “It’s not something I’ve completely written off. I’m considering it.”
No I’m not .
After we all sit, Yuri glances at me and then clears his throat. “One of our own has been attacked. The reason I’ve called this impromptu meeting is to—”
“Fuck this.”
I glare at Abram as he stands, pounding a fist on the table.
“Sit down , Abram,” I hiss. “Yuri was—”
“Talking, yes, I know,” Abram spits. “Because that’s all this table of soft financiers and investors want to do. Talk . Not take action. Not go to war, as their own fathers would have, as is the way of the Bratva!”
I glance next to me at Lukas, who is shaking his head.
“And exactly who should we be going to war with , Abram,” he sighs.
The head of the Diduch family scoffs. “We all know who. This was all Drazen’s doing, and he’s going to keep doing it until you all find your balls and vote to allow me and my cousin to defend this council as we—”
“For the last fucking time ,” Viktor snaps. “We are not declaring war on a fucking fairytale! Who’s next, Abram?” He snarls. “The goddamn Tooth Fairy? Are we going to pool our resources to hunt the fucking Easter Bunny?! Maybe you’d like to order a hit on fucking Santa Claus while you’re at it.”
Abram’s lips curl, his teeth flashing dangerously. But Viktor keeps going.
“Giving you of all fucking people control of all of our forces in order to go after a Boogeyman is absurd. You need to understand: it’s not going to happen.”
“And I wonder how this grand opinion of yours will change, Viktor ,” Abram yells as he gets to his feet. “When Drazen comes for you next—”
“WE DON’T KNOW IT WAS DRAZEN!” Viktor bellows. “For fuck’s sake, Abram, what do you not understand about this? There’s literally not even concrete proof Drazen Krylov is a real person!”
The room goes quiet. Even Abram shuts up and then sits. Then, slowly, his lips curl.
“No? Well then, I wonder what the fuck this is supposed to mean.”
He slips a hand inside his suit jacket. When he pulls it out, he’s holding a plastic baggie with “New York Police Department Evidence Locker” stamped on it. “I got this from one of my connections on the force,” he sneers. “I wonder what it could be?”
He tosses the baggie on the table.
“Go ahead,” he jeers. “Take a look.”
Viktor glances first at Yuri, then at me, before he reaches over and plucks up the bag. I lean close, frowning as I try to figure out what I’m looking at.
The evidence bag has “Kalishnik, Marco” printed on it, together with the date and location of the bombing the other day, along with “Attention: Organized Crime Division”.
Inside is a playing card—the King of Diamonds.
But the head has been burned out with what looks like a cigarette, and there’s burn marks around the edges.
There’s writing on it, too—words scrawled in fine-tipped black marker. And when I lean closer, my body stiffens when I read it:
Now there is a seat at the table for me.
I am coming.
-Drazen Krylov
The room is silent. Abram’s eyes land on each of us in turn.
“I don’t know, Viktor,” he snarls. “Maybe he’s not real. But he did just literally leave a calling card with his fucking signature on it. So you tell me.”
Viktor’s jaw is clenched tight as he glares at the card before he turns to eye Yuri and me.
“I call for a vote—”
“And we will have one, Abram,” Yuri growls. “But not today. We’ve already agreed on a second vote a few weeks from now.”
The younger Diduch looks like he wants to start shit again, but then just glares at Yuri and settles back in his seat.
“Now,” Yuri sighs. “In line with the Council code, we need to figure out how to work with Marko’s people to ensure the whole Kalishnik empire doesn’t implode.
One, because Marko’s our friend. But also, purely from a business perspective, if his organization goes up in flames, we’re all going to get burned. ”
* * *
It’s hours later when we finally adjourn the meeting.
On the plus side, it was productive. Yuri reached out to Anatoli, one of Marko’s most trusted captains and the obvious person to make decisions within the Kalishnik ranks, and we hammered out some assurances to make sure the Kalishnik organization doesn’t go up like the fucking Hindenburg.
Luckily, Anatoli is fiercely loyal to his boss.
When we’re done, Ilya and Lukas invite me out for a drink, but I shake my head and mutter something vague about needing to catch up on some work shit.
The truth is, what I really need to “catch up on” is hearing Eilish’s moans in my ear as her pussy milks the cum from my balls.
I texted her hours ago, during the meeting. Twice.
She hasn’t responded, not to the “Be available to come over tonight” first one nor the “Answer me” second one.
And now I’m pissed.
I want to punch myself in the face for calling her. But I do it anyway, as soon as I get into the back of my Range Rover. It goes to voicemail.
Both times.
Goddammit .
I’m stressed, and I’m pissed. Which means I’m pent up. Which means I want release. And the only release I seem to be able to get—or even want—these days is from her .
I glare at the screen as I hammer out another text.
Me
Where the fuck are you
If she’s trying to ignore me, she’s just slipped up. Because I see the three telltale dots appear to indicate she’s typing before they disappear again.
Me
I saw that.
Eilish
And?
Me
Come to my place. Now.
Eilish
lol
No.
My lips curl into a snarl.
Me
Excuse me?
Eilish
Sorry.
Me
That’s better.
Eilish
Did that text not come through before? I said “no”.
Then she sends me a fucking winky face with its motherfucking tongue poking out. I glare at the little yellow emoji and imagine ripping that fucking tongue right out of its mouth.
Me
I think you might have forgotten the nature of our arrangement. I want you at my house, naked, on all fours on my living room floor, in twenty minutes.
Eilish
I can’t tonight.
What the fuck .
Me
Once again, I’m not sure if you’re remembering our arrangement. Be there in twenty or there will be consequences.
Eilish
LOL. Liek what?
Ruh-row. The tyrant is madddd! Watch out, wrld!
I frown. Her spelling is off. And she’s never “goofy” like this, either in person or over text. Suddenly, it clicks.
Me
Are you drunk?
Eilish
None of ur beeswax. I’m not a surgeon and I’m not on call.
I glare at the screen.
Me
Where are you.
Eilish
night night mister grumpy pants
Me
Get your ass to my goddamn house right now or else.
Eilish
lol this is getting pathetic. Go jerk off if you’re that hard up. Byyeee
Thunder rolls in my head. I thumb away from my texting app and call Korol.
“What’s up?”
“That phone I asked you to geo-trace.”
It’s not exactly ethical. Then again, I do run a worldwide criminal organization.
“I need to know precisely where it is. Now.”
“You got it, Boss-man,” he mutters, clicking away at something on his end. “Okay, it’s at a bar called Angel’s Share. Texting you a map pin of it now.”
I hang up and relay where we’re going to my driver.
Eilish just made her bed.
Now, she’s going to get fucked in it. Hard.