Page 100 of The Games of Madmen

“Whosebaby are you watching? You know that’s creepy right?”

“Are you for real?” Rodion asks in a tone deceptively even, but the undercurrent of annoyance is there. “You don’t recognize your own maid-of-honor’s child?”

Pursing her lips, she waves a dismissive hand. “Babies all look the same.”

So do bugs. “What do you want?” Rodion asks with a tight smile, but I know he’s on the verge of snapping her neck.

“A-L-L-Y.” She spells out the name and elongates her face like he’s a dumbass.

Yeah well, we want her too, bitch.

“She’s not here.” I wave my hand to the door for her to leave, but apparently, she’s fucking stupid, because she has the audacity to roll her eyes at me.

“Where is she? Her phone is off, and you didn’t give me your address.”

“And you’re never getting it,” Rodion barks at her.

She flashes him an icy smile. “I need her to try on her dress. You know how women’s hips get after having children. Normal sizes need altering.”

“Alyona’s hips are fucking perfect,” I growl.

Holding up her hands she raises a brow. “I didn’t say they weren’t.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder and smirks.

Bitch.

Looking at her nails, she muses, “She also missed Jeremiah’s funeral.”

That gets my attention.

“They buried him?” Rodion mutters more to himself than to her.

“Of course they didn’t bury him.” Her tone drips with amusement. “There wasn’t much left to bury, so they opted for a wake instead.” She grimaces at the memory, rolling her eyes. “Ally didn’t miss anything. It was incredibly dull, but I felt obligated to go for Maddox’s sake.”

I can feel my brother’s glare on Vika without even turning to look. He’s seething. Hadn’t she bitched out Alyona for claiming that the drama surrounding Jeremiah and Adam’s controversywas overshadowing her wedding? And here she is, casually attending his wake as if it’s just another social gathering.

“Are you on drugs?” I ask, my nostrils flaring. I’m over this shit.

She swipes a hand across her nose, her eyes widening in surprise. Checking her hand for any powder, she replies, “What? No! Why would you ask that?”

Oh for fuck’s sake.

Pushing to my feet, I ask curtly, “Can you fuck off now?” Grabbing her wrist firmly, I shove her toward the exit.

“Wait,” she protests, pinning her hands against the door frame to prevent me from pushing her further. Like a fucking child. “I need to tell Ally that Adam is out.”

This time, my eyes fly to Rodion’s. “What the hell? You couldn’t have led with that?”

As if on cue, my phone starts ringing.

Releasing Vika, I answer her brother's call, “Viktor?”

“Can you come to my apartment?”

Viktor’s place is much like the man himself. Expensive furnishings, muted tones and clean, too clean. A female wearing nothing but faint scars over her pale flesh greets us at the door and is casually twirling a strand of dark hair around her finger.

“He’s in his office,” she informs us, pointing at a room at the end of a corridor while sashaying down the opposite direction toward a naked man, who grabs her up and disappears.

“I hope this isn’t what he wanted us to come over for,” I say, nudging Rodion’s shoulder playfully.