Page 19 of Enemy of Ours #1

After years of going to the club, you think you'd get used to seeing other mob families and gang members, but you don't. It makes my skin itch, my gaze moving constantly around the room without trying to be obvious that I’m watching every little movement someone makes. I trust no one here. I don’t care if the rules state that if you fight or kill anyone while at the club, you get executed right away with one clean shot to the head and then, for extra drama, decapitated to display your head for all to see.

No one in this building really follows other people's rules, only their own. That’s why I’m constantly on guard.

My cousins follow close behind me, watching my back in case someone decides to try to take out the Messina Don.

I wield a great deal of power in this city, and many want that power for themselves.

I really don’t blame them. If I didn't have the city's power in my hands, I'd be trying to take out the most powerful family. That’s why Victor is up my ass; he wants what I have… He’ll have to kill me first before that ever happens.

“So this is where all the crime lords gather to smoke and drink with each other. This place resembles a sophisticated social club. You guys are losers,” Gemma mutters under her breath to my right side.

She starts snickering to herself as she gazes around at the mahogany bookshelves, the expensive brown leather couches and matching chairs to relax in while talking shop.

The high-end bar in the back features more leather high-top chairs and serves the most expensive liquor from the glass shelves behind the bartender.

There are even a few chess tables situated by the floor-to-ceiling windows.

She’s right, it’s ridiculous, but it’s neutral ground.

Business deals can be discussed and negotiated here without death being involved until you step out of the building; then all bets are off.

“Watch and learn, baby cousin. Let the men do the talking.” Enzo boasts, and I can only roll my eyes when I hear a thunk followed by his yelp behind me.

“Shut your fucking mouth. I eat men like these for breakfast.” She gestures around, licking her bright red lips like a psychopath.

For all I know, she might actually do that. Occasionally, I ponder my connection to these individuals, but then I recall the inherent murderous nature we all possess.

“There he is, Boss. Private room, left-hand corner past the bar,” Tony says quietly for my ears only, and I head in that direction with them following behind me.

We stop in front of the open doorway to a room with a fireplace and two brown leather couches facing each other.

A coffee table sits in the middle to keep anyone out of reaching distance unless you decide to jump over the table and snap some necks. Easy business.

My eyes scan the room, seeing two of Victor’s henchmen standing behind him as he lounges on the couch while smoking a cigar like he has no worries in this little world of his.

“Please sit. Wine, scotch, or a cigar?” Victor asks with a cocky smile, blowing smoke in my direction as I sit on the other couch across from him.

I unbutton my suit jacket and lean back into the cushions.

Crossing my ankle over my knee, I place my arms on the back of the couch as if I’m at ease and don’t give a fuck about anything.

Of course, it’s the complete opposite, though; tension fills my body, every muscle tight.

I don’t trust him or his men lurking behind him.

“Cut the shit, Victor. You got me here. Now, what the fuck do you want?” I speak in a stoic tone, feigning boredom, knowing that this will irritate him.

I’m right. His jaw tightens and his smile drops as he leans forward to crush out his cigar in the glass bowl on the coffee table. His men shift behind him uneasily, looking at each other out of the corner of their eyes before staring back at Enzo, Tony, and Gemma behind me, standing guard.

“What do we all want?” he asks in a thick, deep Russian accent, his light blue piercing eyes holding my gaze before shifting over my left shoulder as Gemma snorts softly.

Oh, fuck. Here we go. Goddamnit, Gemma.

I don’t turn around to glare at her, but I do drum my fingers on the back of the couch and hear her squirm in place.

She knows she just fucked up. You don’t talk unless spoken to in meetings like this, and now Victor’s eyes are roaming up and down her body.

I don’t like the way he’s looking at her.

Gemma, standing at a mere five feet two inches, is incredibly petite, akin to a pixie.

Whereas Victor, standing at a height of approximately six feet seven inches, appears as if he could crush your skull with his massive hands.

He’s looking at Gemma with blue eyes that aren’t blinking and his pupils expanding. I don’t like it one bit.

I clear my throat loudly, and he slowly looks away from her until he’s gazing at me with a raised brow. If they hadn’t taken my gun away from me at the front door of the club, I would have already put a bullet between his eyes. My patience is wearing thin.

“You want power? Money? Drugs? Respect?” I ask unhurriedly, putting sarcasm into my tone because I know it will annoy him.

“Yes, but that isn’t just handed into your palm.

You have to work for it, steal it, or kill for it.

Don’t we?” he questions, his gaze flickering once again to Gemma before settling back on me.

“I think we could help each other, you know? We could put fear into the people who want to take our control away and hurt our loved ones.” He holds my gaze for a long moment and raises his arm behind his head, snapping his fingers until his lackey places a folder into his outstretched palm.

He slides it on the table between us, waiting for me to open it, and I’m tempted to tell him to shove it up his ass, but based on the pictures earlier of one of his men following me, I can’t take the chance.

I lean over and try to stay calm as I flip through the enlarged photos that make it clear who they were watching.

I see photo after photo of Iris, including pictures of her walking in the park, me following her into our building, and her looking out her window with her scars visible. My fists grip the photos tightly, wrinkling the edges just before I throw them on the coffee table.

“I can help you protect her. I know why she has those scars. Everyone who knows where to listen hears the whispers of what happened to her.” He shakes his head in pity, and I swear I’m seconds from jumping over the table between us and slowly watching the life drain from his eyes with my hands around his neck.

“What does that mean for you? Why would you want to protect someone you’ve never met?” Gemma asks, her tone curious, and I grind my teeth as she speaks up. She shouldn’t have come if she can’t hold her tongue; it’s just going to interest Victor more.

Point proven when he pins his gaze on her and wets his lips, a smirk spreading across his mouth.

“Because what happened to his wife should have never happened if we didn’t have weak men trying to take control of our city.

I want to annihilate those men from the face of the earth, and I need his help to do it.

” Victor looks back at me, his gaze suddenly holding deep pain, and I have to wonder who he lost.

“What’s the catch?” My voice comes out hard and deep because I’m fucking tempted to take his offer.

Danny O’Connor is one of those weak men who sacrificed his daughter for his church, men who don’t even know one first thing about running a business in this city. Victor knows; his smirk says it all.

“While we negotiate, to make sure no one starts killing each other, I want a trade until the deal is done,” he says matter-of-factly, shrugging his shoulders but still wearing that shit-eating grin like he won something.

Fuck.

“What trade?” I growl out, climbing to my feet as things start clicking into place.

“I can either take Iris back with me to Russia for a few months so I know you won’t screw me over, and then you can have her back once you follow through with our dealings.” He climbs to his feet too, buttoning his suit jacket and grinning until all his white teeth are showing around his cigar.

“What’s option two?” I hold his gaze, imagining a bullet hole through his forehead as he threatens to take away what’s mine.

I’ll peel off layers of his flesh with a vegetable peeler after I pour boiling water over him, making my knife slide through him like butter.

No one, and I mean no one, takes my Iris from me.

“I’ll take her instead.” He points at Gemma, who sucks in a surprised breath behind me.

“And if I don’t?” My body tenses, ready to kill this motherfucker, club rules be damned, until I feel Gemma lay a hand on my jacket sleeve.

“Don. He doesn’t have to take Iris,” she says softly as she comes around the couch to stand between Victor and me.

“I’ll go. I know you won’t let anything bad happen to me, and it gives you time to proceed with the negotiations without having to worry about Iris.

” She holds my gaze with a blank facial expression, but I notice a gleam of challenge in her eyes, and I almost feel bad for Victor.

My shoulders relax, and it takes everything inside me not to smile.

Of course, Gemma would offer to play the innocent baby cousin who has no choice but to go.

A pretend damsel in distress. Victor doesn’t know he’s standing in the room with Vixen, a deadly killer that most men fear and compare to the boogeyman.

No one knows Gemma is Vixen, and this is the perfect opportunity for her to kill this motherfucker for even daring to take pictures of my wife.

“I can’t ask this of you—” I begin to speak in my most caring voice while maintaining eye contact with her, and she winks at me before turning to face Victor.

“Do we have a deal?” she asks him in a quiet voice, gazing up at him through her lashes as he stares down at her with a raised brow like he’s trying to figure her out.

Good luck with that.

Victor holds her gaze for a long minute, his mouth set in a rigid line, before he glances up over her head with a single nod.

“Da.” He agrees and steps over towards me, his hand outstretched for me to shake to seal the deal, but I don’t grab his palm.

Not yet, at least. I have to show him that my cousin doesn’t speak for her Don. I fucking hate that I have to make an example out of Gemma for speaking out of turn in a business meeting with another Mafia family.

“Gemma, come here for a second.” I grit my teeth and reach inside the wooden box on the coffee table that is full of cigars.

She comes around the table to stand beside me as I cut the end of the cigar and light it with a match. Once the cigar glows with an ember as I inhale, I exhale a cloud of smoke into her face.

“Roll up your sleeve,” I command her, staring her down as she looks towards Enzo in confusion, but he doesn’t help her as he stares straight ahead.

The moment she rolls up her long sleeve, I snatch her wrist while turning her arm and bring the burning part of my cigar down onto her inner elbow. She staggers with a sharp gasp of pain but remains upright and grinds her teeth together as her eyes water.

“Get back in your place.” My tone comes out harsh as I pull the cigar away and don’t look at her again.

“Yes, Don,” she quietly says, keeping her head down as she moves around the couch to stand off to the right of my shoulder behind me.

“A woman who can handle a little pain. Right after my own heart, aren’t you, Malysha?” Victor purrs in a deep, grumbling voice at Gemma, but she keeps her mouth shut and ignores him, as she should.

“You hurt one hair on her head, I’ll make your life a living hell.

You’ll beg for death, and I’ll keep you alive just so I can torture you all over again for months.

” I promise him as I shake his hand in a hard grip, holding his eyes hostage.

It’s a look that makes most men piss their pants, but he just smirks and squeezes my hand, which I return like a challenge once before pulling away.

“I expect nothing else. I’ll be in contact for the exchange.” He holds my gaze for a second and flicks it to Gemma with a wink just before leaving the room with his men following him.

I turn around and have to remind myself I don’t hit women on repeat in my head because I’m seconds away from smacking Gemma for being so reckless and not confiding in me first before she made that fucking deal.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” The words are ground out through my teeth, and she looks down at the floor in shame before squaring her shoulders and meeting my gaze.

“I’m sorry, my Don, but it was either Iris or me. I will do what needs to be done. No one messes with your wife, even with threats. Questa nostra cosa,” she says in a serious tone. I am proud of her, but this is still fucking reckless.

Victor is not a stupid man, and he won’t be easy to kill, but I must trust Vixen to get the job done. She’s right. No one, and I mean no one, threatens my wife.

“This thing of ours.” I agree, squeezing her shoulder with a show of my approval, and I fucking hope I’m not making a mistake.

“Boss,” Enzo catches my attention, handing me a cigar because he knows I fucking need it to take the edge off right now. “Does this mean the timeline is moving up?”

I know what he’s referring to. I’m tempted to say no, but she’s going to be furious no matter what I do, and this is for her safety. I was just hoping to have more time to prepare.

“Yes. Let the pilots know we are leaving tomorrow night. I want to be up in the air by eleven PM.”

“Yes, boss.” He nods but shares a laugh with Tony before looking back at me. “God, she’s going to give you hell. I kind of can’t wait to see what she does.” Enzo grins wickedly. I flip him off as he pulls his cellphone out to make the arrangements.

My girl will fight me tooth and nail, but eventually, she’ll cave.