Page 63 of The Games of Madmen

“Good luck with that,” I reply, trying to maintain my composure.

“I don’t need fucking luck. I have money.”

My heart races, pounding in my chest like a drum. The world around me seems to sway, the walls closing in and rushing back out as if the house is reacting to the weight of his threats.

“I’ll be seeing you real soon,” he threatens in a deceptively calm voice.

The line dies, and his departing words hang in the air like a darkening storm.

Sweat breaks out across my forehead, and the room begins to fade. I don’t feel so good.

Chapter Nineteen

Zahkar

As we enter the hotel lobby, the receptionist approaches us before we can reach the exit. “Sir, there’s a guest here waiting for you in the waiting area.” Rodion raises an eyebrow and glances over my shoulder to where the woman is gesturing. He’s feeling cautious after yesterday, and rightly so. The tension on his face eases as Rita, the real estate agent I’ve been communicating with via email and phone calls, rushes over.

“Mr. Vetrov, sir,” she says, her voice upbeat yet professional. Based on our correspondence and the photo on her website, she's younger than I anticipated.

She extends her petite hand toward me, and when we shake, my larger hand completely envelops hers.

“Sir,” Rodion remarks playfully, biting his lip in a mischievous manner as he grins at me. “I like her.”

“Of course you do,” I reply, unable to suppress a small smile.

“It’s so nice to actually meet you in the flesh. Emails can be so impersonal,” she continues, her cheeks flushing a soft pink when she catches Rodion’s lingering gaze on her face.

“Yes, they certainly are,” he retorts, his tone light and teasing. “Flesh is much more personal.”

“Behave, brother,” I warn, my voice firm, but laced with amusement.

Rodion tends to act out whenever he feels rejected or betrayed. I lost track of how many bodies he brought to our bed after Alyona left us. This is his way of coping, and now that we've discovered Alyona was hiding more than just her presence from us, Rodion will need an outlet.

“I thought you were coming to my office today, but when you didn't show up, I decided to drop by and deliver the good news in person.” She smiles brightly and rummages through her oversized purse, pulling out a set of keys and a folder. I’d forgotten I was supposed to go to her office today. “I've never closed on a property that quickly before, but given the urgency you expressed, the sellers appreciated the offer over the asking price.”

“Hmmm, money often gets things moving,” I remark, taking the items from her. Happy to have the house sorted.

“If there's anything else I can assist you with, please let me know.”

Rodion positions himself firmly between me and her, intertwining his fingers with hers before bringing her hand to his lips for a lingering kiss. “Oh, we’ll definitely let you know, right, brother?”

“Right,” I grunt, trying to mask my amusement.

Her eyes have widened, and her bottom lip quivers as she takes quick breaths of air. Rodion has that effect on most people when he gives them his full attention, and she’s not immune.

“In fact,” he glances between us with a glint in his eye, “we’re having the grand re-opening of our newly acquired nightclub in a few weeks. We’ll make sure to send you a personal invite.”

He still hasn’t released her hand, his gaze practically undressing her right here in the bustling lobby. There are at least eight different surfaces in my eyeline that he’d happily fuck her on. Little does he realize that no matter how far he pushes this interaction, it won’t satisfy his hunger, because it’s not her he truly desires.

Snatching her hand back when Rodion flashes his teeth, she backs up and nods her head. “Wonderful, I’ll look forward to it.”

Chuckling darkly, he replies, “Us too.”

Ten pairs of eyes, filled with shock and disbelief, stare back at me with their mouths agape.

“You want to close the club and we'll still be getting paid?” one brave bartender asks.

When we arrived an hour ago, Rodion quickly fired the barmaid who served the nun assassin. “If you can’t distinguish between a real ID and a fake one,” he had stated firmly, his voice echoing through the empty club, “you won’t be working here anymore. Gather your belongings and get out.”