Page 43 of The Dragon 1

We turned left and entered our final destination—my VIP space.

Classical music filled the area.

The floor was black lacquer, so polished, everything around it reflected within its surface.

The walls—also black—had no windows.

Above, a golden dragon coiled across the ceiling. Its body shimmered. Its mouth opened wide and showing off its fangs.

I scanned my VIP space, and then I saw him.

Kazimir Solonik—The Lion—sat at a long black table in the center of the room. He was a massive man. His bulk was unmistakable. Tons of muscles carved from violence and death. His skin had been kissed with frost. Women always raved about his looks, so I assumed he must have been attractive.

Being the cocky bastard that he was, he didn’t rise.

Didn’t nod.

He just watched as we entered.

In front of Kazimir, a woman lay spread out on the table, naked and golden-skinned.

Sushi decorated her body. Nigiri across her collarbone. Sashimi laid carefully along the curve of her thighs. A wasabi rose nestled between her breasts.

Kazimir used chopsticks to pick a piece ofotorofrom her navel.

Still watching us, he ate slowly.

I can already tell this meeting is going to be a bunch of bullshit.

I took in the rest of his people.

To his left, Yuri had a long beard. His eyes were cold and depthless. He was always a wall of stoicism. His hands were folded on the table, and I’d heard rumors that he’d used those very hands to crush skulls.

To Kazimir’s right was Sasha. Pale as ash. Blond hair cropped short, grey eyes so pale they appeared silver.

And behind Kazimir?

Thirty men.

All Bratva.

All armed.

Each one standing at attention like they were preparing for siege.

My jaw tensed.

Bringingthatmany soldiers to my private space was beyond disrespectful. It was a brazen challenge wrapped in the cloaked guise of civility.

Hiro grunted on my side, telling me he wanted to fight the Lion’s people just for the disrespect.

Ignoring Hiro’s thirst for violence, I looked around Kazimir, saw no package, and stifled a growl.

The Lion didn’t bring me a gift!

Everyone who came to me brought something. A bottle of blood-aged whisky. A scroll. An exquisite painting. A rare jewel with unique history.

It was always something that said:I understand whose empire I’m standing in.