Page 161 of Wicked Proposal

I needed a distraction, though this wasn’t my first choice. If it were up to me, I’d be shooting targets in the woods tonight.Movingtargets, ideally. Spies we caught, enemies we saved for later like canned beans in a doomsday bunker.

But it’s been too long since I’ve kept tabs on myvory. Leave this bunch alone too long, and they’ll start plotting your demise. Fucking sharks, but that’s exactly why I have them.

The Goldenrod’s private lounge is thick with smoke and vodka. It’s overbearing, but it helps.

Anything to chase her scent away.

Kazimir lounges back, a smug grin plastered on his face. He tosses a queen of hearts over a half-built straight. A bluff. As always.

Slavik leans forward, fingers steepled, eyes hawkish. He plays a slow, deliberate game, folding a full house just to bait Rurik into false confidence.

The Volkov twins sit across from me. Zhenya pushes her luck with a bold raise on three of a kind, her poker face perfectly unfazed.

“Damn, Sis. You got me.” Anton flashes his cards before folding with a wink.

Rurik knocks back his third shot ofhorilkaand sneers. He tosses a messy pile of chips forward with a jack-high hand.

Maksim grins like a madman, a Cuban cigar hanging from his teeth. He’s playing recklessly, but then again, when isn’t he?

“Nice hand,” he whistles at Rurik. “Not as nice as this one, though.” He tosses two queens on the table.

I tap my knuckles against the felt. “I raise.”

“Ourpakhanplays a dangerous game,” Kazimir teases. “Someone bolstering your courage, boss? Perhaps your girl?”

The mention of Mia is enough to make my knuckles go white.Fucking Kazimir.Never knows when to shut his vodka hole.

“Shut up and play,” I growl.

“She’s not his,” Rurik grumbles. The ice in my voice seems to have gone way over his head. “Not yet.”

“You’re so old-fashioned,” Anton sighs. “He will marry her. It’s only a matter of time. And when he does, it will be good.”

“Will it?” Rurik grumbles. “If you say so.”

“Of course it will,” Slavik bristles. “A marriedpakhansends a message. It tells our allies we’re strong, stable. Most of all, it tells our enemies.”

“You bunch sure love to talk.” Maksim barks a laugh. “I thought we were here to play, not gossip like bridesmaids.”

“How about you put your money where your big mouth is?” Rurik snaps.

“Sure.” Maksim pushes all his chips in the center. “How’s this? All in.”

Whistles slice the air. Slavik and Rurik follow suit, too competitive to let someone else steal the spotlight. Kazimir, too, because he’s an agent of chaos and thrives on it.

Anton folds. Zhenya keeps her cards close, lost in thought, and doesn’t say anything.

“Something on your mind,sestra?” Anton asks.

“Maybe she misses the gossip,” Kazimir says. “Maybe she actually wanted to play bridesmaid.”

Zhenya shoots him a glare that saysI’ll turn you into a bridesmaid if you don’t shut the fuck up.But then her face turns thoughtful again.

“The wedding will be good for us,” she says.

“Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it,” Rurik snarks.

“Then don’t. Take history’s. Empires strengthen with bonds,” she observes, as if reading off a goddamn textbook. “And heirs.”