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My first stop takes me to a popular bar owned by Grigori. I figure I owe him a heads-up call. I dial his number.

"Antonio, my friend, what's up?"

"I'm about to cause a little stir in one of your bars," I inform him, straightening my tie.

"Alright, I'll let Piotr know to be on the lookout."

"Put it on my tab," I tell Grigori.

"How bad is it going to be?" He wants to know.

"It's just one civilian asshole who disrespected my wife," I fill him in.

"Then it's on the house." Grigori offers.

"I'll owe you."

"Just give him a good jab from me, too. Nobody disrespects women unpunished."

I hang up with a grin. Grigori is as bloodthirsty and monstrous as a mob boss should be, but his weakness for the gentler sex iswell known. There’s a rumor that he used to be Sir Lancelot in a previous life. I disagree, but only because I've seen Grigori rip a man's throat out with his bare hands, and I doubt Sir Lancelot would have been capable of that. But, hey.

Vito isn't happy that I'm going in alone, but I compromised that he'll wait in the car, keeping it ready.

"I don't trust the Russians." He eyes the two bouncers at the front of the club.

"Neither do I," I laugh.

The bouncers nod at me as I walk by unchallenged, aware of the people standing in line eyeing me enviously. A few pretty girls flaunt their assets, but I don't even notice them. They're just background noise to me anymore. There is only one woman in the world I care about, and this is for her.

I notice him instantly; he's standing by a high table occupied by three very pretty girls. All three of them are giggling at him, making gooey eyes. A second man arrives, whom I recognize as his friend, Max. Thanks to Scarlet, I've learned the value of social media. Max and Scarlet's second ex, Les, have been friends since college. They fancy themselves as a pair of playboys, a gift to womanhood.

"Well, if that isn't Lester Stock." I join the group of five jovially. Les shoots me a confused look, trying to figure out where to place me. He's a stockbroker with a Charlie Sheen obsession, who has watchedWall Streetone too many times.

I let him see my platinum Rolex and diamond-studded cufflinks. I'm sure he recognizes my suit as one of Armani's finest. I can almost see the dollar symbols dancing in his eyes.

"Ladies, I hope you realize you're in the company of theWolf of Wall Street." I smile at the three girls. Les is too engrossed in trying to figure out who the fuck I am to notice the sarcasm in my voice.

"We've had some fun times, haven't we, old buddy?" I put my arm around Les and rub his head with a bit more vigor than necessary. He suppresses a yelp and forces a smile on his face.

"It's been a while," he moves a step away from me when I let go of him.

"Too long," I agree.

"I'm sorry, I don't seem to remember your name." Max, the perfect wingman, places a tray of drinks on the table.

"That's alright, we've never been formally introduced," I grab one of the beers and empty the glass halfway—weak American brew. I prefer Italian or German beer, something with a bit more kick than thislightshit.

"We do have an acquaintance in common, though," I deepen my grin, and something in my eyes must warn Les off because he takes another step closer to his friend Max.

"You see, ladies," I lean my elbows on the table, all ready to be a charming confidante. "This man here used to date the most beautiful woman who has ever walked the Earth."

I have the girls' full attention as I twirl my glass of beer in my hands.

"He pursued her for over a year, begged her to go out with him; isn't that so, old buddy, Les?" I lift my head to stare at the man responsible for Scarlet's lack of confidence.

"Who the fuck are you?" Les seems to find some backbone.

"Do you know what happened to her?" I ask the girls, ignoring him.