Page 19

Chapter

Nine

Dimitri

“Was it an attack?” I ask, knowing the answer ahead of time.

My father nods grimly. “Mikhail had a lengthy discussion with the caterer, who wasn’t sure how the tray of cookies got there, but it seems to have been designed especially for Ian.”

Rage and frustration brim over as I slam my hand on the table, making all our drinks shake. “We’re not safe anywhere.” I’ve been on edge since yesterday. Ian got hurt, which was fucking terrifying, and my brother and fiancée didn’t even try to hide their affair. But what has me most on edge is how my father so casually passed Katya off like she was a toy.

I couldn’t sleep. Between checking on Ian, ignoring all of Svetlana’s apology texts—which turned into ‘fuck you’ texts around 3 a.m.—and running through various scenarios involving Uri and Katya, my mind wouldn’t shut off. Logically, I know nothing happened. Katya isn’t Uri’s type. That’s why he’s here to begin with.

“Where are Ian and Nadia now?”

My brother pipes up. “In the forest safe house.”

At least he was smart enough to send them away. “Who’s with them?”

“One of my guys is on babysitting duty,” Mikhail adds.

I glance over at Uri, who frowns. Mikhail’s men are competent, but more loyal to him than to the organization. I’m not sure if any of them fully understand my sister-in-law’s situation.

Ian called me this morning to show off the bandage on his arm and ask, “Do you think I’ll have a cool scar, like everyone else?”

There’s no way Ian could grow up in this family without a scar, but that doesn’t mean I wanted him to get one when he was six.

Uri lifts his shirt sleeve and sighs. “Have any of you seen my watch?” He’s still on that. I guess he was too busy not fucking my Katya to look for it.

“Did you look in your car, or in the back alley?” I offer.

“The car, the trunk, I even went back to the dumping ground to see if I dropped it there. Nothing.” He shuffles around in his seat and whines, “I don’t want to look for it in the alley. It’s cold and dirty and smells like shit, blood, and rotten food.”

I raise my shoulder, my hackles up. “Calm the fuck down.”

He crosses his arms and pouts, pressing his back against the booth. “Doesn’t seem fair. I shot him, dragged his ass to my car, dumped the body, and now I’m the one out of a Rolex.”

Mikhail laughs and slaps Uri’s shoulder. “But at least you fucked the bartender.”

It’s like every time this motherfucker talks, I want to knock out all his teeth and make him eat them.

I feel her before I see her. How is that possible? Katya’s close—very close. Maybe it’s the way the other men’s moods shift when she enters. Did she hear Mikhail talking about her?

She places our drinks on the table and flashes me a smile. “I have your shirt. I can leave it in the office.”

Mikhail laughs. “Keep it. You wore it better than he ever could.”

Nope. Don’t like that.

She glares at him, her eyes drifting to the glass in front of him. He stops laughing and places both hands in his lap.

“Ian says hi.” I want her eyes back on me, and the mention of my nephew doesn’t let me down.

She smiles, and the whole bar lights up. “Is he feeling better?”

“He’s excited to have a cool scar.” I want to reach out to her, touch her arm, and tell her how much it meant to me that she could protect the one person who matters most in my life.

But Uri hums, wearing a shit-eating grin. My stomach drops and a nauseous wave crashes into my body.