7. Konstantin
KONSTANTIN
"Eight in total," Ethan says as he hurries alongside me, struggling to keep up with my pace through the manor toward the back patio.
"We've contained the damage to four of them.
Three are lost completely and one unconfirmed because the fire is still going.
Crews are out there now but honestly…" He pauses to breathe. "It's not looking good."
This is fucked.
I've been nothing but fair in my dealings with these Italian bastards and they respond by burning down as many of my cookhouses as they can get their hands on.
How they know exactly where to hit is why I've called this meeting.
I stride out onto the patio where six of my generals have been waiting for an hour under the uncomfortable midday sun.
They all stiffen as soon as they catch sight of me, and a couple force themselves to appear casual by drinking from glasses long absent of ice.
The only chilled glass that remains is mine, at the head of the table with enough ice to drown out the alcohol.
"Gentlemen." Taking my seat, I pick up my glass and drink slowly, taunting every general that sits there stiff with sweat and aching skin from being forced to wait out here for me for so long. "We have a problem."
Ethan stands just behind me and slips his electronic tablet onto the table before me, then steps back.
"A problem indeed," agrees the closest general.
"Eight cookhouses. Given how many we have in total, eight isn't that many to lose, but I do not care about that.
I do not care about the product. Product can be replaced.
I do not care about the staff. Staff can be rehired.
Buildings can be rebuilt. What I care about?
" My sharp gaze drifts around the table and locks eyes with each general in turn.
"How the fuck do these Italian cunts know where to hit? "
An uncomfortable murmur rises around the table and one general to my left leans forward. "I'm sure you're aware we uncovered a mole downtown. He was selling information regarding you to the highest bid—"
"Never mind that," interrupts another general. "This is on you, Konstantin."
I lock eyes with him, demanding he elaborate without saying a word. He falls silent, though as all eyes turn to him.
"Explain," Ethan barks from behind me.
"You killed the Don's son. Did you really think murdering him would come with no consequences?"
"He stole from me," I reply quietly. "You are well aware that I do not tolerate such shit."
"Sure," the general replies. "But you still killed a prince. So the Italians are pissed and you would understand that if you had your own son to lose."
I grit my teeth.
Even in the midst of a war, these trembling assholes still find a way to twist things back to my lack of heir.
They can't see past that, and remain convinced that I would be a better and more ruthless leader if I had something that precious to lose.
It makes no sense to me.
"What would you have me do? Pat him on the head and send him on his way back to his family? Thank him for testing our defenses and highlighting problem areas?" Bitterness drips from my tone. "I do not care who steals from me. I do not care who betrays me. In the end, the result is the same."
The general slumps back in his seat and regards his warm drink, then he turns away in disgust.
"It doesn't matter.” Another general speaks up. "The Italians started this, but we lack the intel to hit them back. We've hit a couple of restaurants and stolen a handful of weapon shipments, but the value isn't even half of what we've lost from those cookhouses."
"So we dig deeper," says another. "Maybe if we stopped killing everyone we came across, we would have someone to interrogate to find out more about the deals we're disrupting."
"We can't just let them live," says another. "Konstantin is right. They stole from us and then expected mercy just because it was the Don's son. Being the heir and blood doesn't buy you immunity from your enemies."
I have more to say.
Orders to give.
Anger to express.
It all fades because behind the generals' heads, the glass doors slide open and my wife, Rose, steps out into the sun wearing nothing but a white string bikini.
There's scarcely enough fabric to cover her breasts, and the little bows tied at her hips are attached to the bottom half and look seconds away from unraveling.
My heart stalls in my chest.
She steps out, barefoot, and clasps her hands together.
Then she stretches her arms high above her head and arches her body with a soft, subtle groan that's just loud enough to catch the attention of every other man around the table.
The moment they all glance around to the source of the noise, anger ignites in my chest.
Rose doesn't look our way.
After she stretches, she gathers her dark hair in one fist at the back of her head, then secures it into a ponytail with an elastic.
Then she walks across the sun-warmed paving stones toward the pool, all while adjusting the top of her bikini.
"If I were twenty years younger—-“ says one of my generals.
"I bet she's keeping you busy," says another.
"A beauty like that is so rare," comments a third. "How the devil do you keep up with a young thing like that?"
Understanding noises and rumbles move around the table and I know I should tell them to stop looking, but I'm just as transfixed—and pissed the hell off that she dares to display herself like that in front of my men.
Calvin bursts through the door, visibly panicked.
He spots Rose in an instant, but as he darts forward, she reaches the edge of the pool and stretches her hands up to the sky.
After a deep breath that makes her chest shift and lift, she dives into the deep blue water just as Calvin makes it to the edge of the pool.
He catches himself with a wobble, just shy of falling over the edge.
After balancing himself, he drops to his haunches and his hushed whispers don't reach my ears, but it's clear he's doing everything he can to get her out of the pool.
"As I was saying." Anger licks at my words and brings all six generals' attention back to me, but it's not as focused as before.
None of them can resist sly glances at the beautiful woman lazily backstroking through the water.
"We need more intel. Eight is nothing to us right now, but if they continue to chip away at us, we will be in trouble.
I would rather catch that before it happens.
Given that one leak has been plugged, we must have another. "
"Another?" The general to my left fixes his gaze on me and holds it while tension bleeds across his face. He's clearly fighting the urge to follow the sound of Rose's laughter and splashing to the pool.
"No one has all the information. Four cookhouses, I would believe. But eight? That information did not come from a single person. I want everyone double-checked and the next time we get our hands on an Italian shipment, ask questions first, understand?"
A distracted but understanding murmur drifts around the table and they grow more so when Calvin's grumble carries through the air.
Rose splashes up with the water and then quickly swims away, leaving him to follow her down the side of the pool all while motioning for her to get out.
She's doing this on purpose.
But why?
The general next to me finally caves and glances toward the water. The moment he does, I stand abruptly and my chair loudly scrapes back. "Get out."
Everyone begins to stand.
"You have your orders. The next time we meet, I want answers, understand?"
"Yes, sir," comes their mingled replies.
"And one more thing."
Six pairs of eyes finally lock onto me with full focus.
"If anyone looks at my wife again, even for a second, I will cut off their balls and serve them as a reminder to every other remaining man around this table. Are we understood?"
Despite the flush from the sun, a couple of men lose all color in their faces.
Then, all six of them hurry from the patio as if the sun itself is scorching their retreating ankles. Not once does anyone glance at the pool.
"Boss?" Ethan steps closer, then he glances past me to the pool. "Do you want me to handle it?"
"No," I reply tightly. "I have this."
Shedding my suit jacket given the heat from the sun, I roll up my shirt sleeves and stroll down the short steps from the patio that lead to the nearby pool.
Calvin, in the middle of chasing Rose around the other side of the pool, immediately stops and straightens up when he sees me.
"Boss," he gasps, panting slightly. "I'm sorry, I—"
Ignoring him, I stride past to the edge of the pool and stop. "Rose." Her name cuts across the hot air like the lash of a whip and the water below me rolls and bubbles as she breaches the surface with a laugh.
She's more than beautiful. Water droplets cling to her face and shoulders like she's bathed in crystal, her hair fans out behind her head, and the dark color she's painted across her lips pulls into a wide, teasing smile.
"Husband of mine," she murmurs. "Is everything alright?"
"What are you playing at?" I snap down at her. "Coming out here dressed like that?"
Her brows drift together and she tilts her head. "You mean in a bathing suit?"
"What you are wearing can hardly be called that."
Her arms drift back and forth across the surface as she treads water while heat coils low in my gut.
Water droplets run from her shoulders and follow the curve of her body down to the valley between her breasts.
She smirks when she catches me looking.
"It's a bikini. If you're about to tell me that you're too prudish for something like this then we're going to have a problem."
"I do not have a problem with the bikini."
"Are you sure?" Rose pouts up at me. "You seem really mad."
"I have a problem with you dressing like that in front of my men. Did you forget our vows?"
"Yup." Her smile widens and something about the honesty in her eyes leads me to believe she really has.
"I do not want my men to stare at what is mine."
She paddles backward a few inches. "Then tell them not to stare."
"Rose."
"You told me this was my home. It's not my fault you brought your work home with you when I wanted to swim."
"Men are dogs," I reply, and her eyes flicker as if she agrees. "I will not tell you again. Dress decently when my men are around or you will wake to find your wardrobe replaced with everything from the eighteen-hundreds.”
"Then I'll just walk around naked," Rose replies and her soft voice drips with heavy intent. She locks eyes with me and drags her hands through the water until they're in front of her, then she slides them around her neck and pulls at the tied bow resting there.
"Calvin," I say as soon as her bikini top grows loose. "Leave."
He's already halfway to the house.
"Rose. Enough. Out of the pool so we can talk about this."
"About what?" she pouts, holding her bikini top aloft. "You know Kon, you need to loosen up. Relax more and have fun."
"Fun?" I repeat, barely able to contain the bite of irritation nipping at my chest.
She flaunted herself to men who were never, ever supposed to see what she looks like.
Her beauty is for me and me alone, yet she's out here taunting me like she's the one in control.
I drop to my haunches and hold out my hand. "Come."
Rose pouts again, then she rolls her eyes and groans. "Fine," she mutters, and she swims forward to close the gap between her and the edge of the pool.
Just as she reaches my outstretched hand, a glimmer of mischief flashes in her eyes and I have no time to react.
She simply grabs my hand with both of hers and launches herself backward, using her momentum and her weight to drag me off balance.
Her laughter rings in my ears as I crash down into the pool and disappear beneath the surface.