Page 18 of Malevolent King

His words didn’t reassure me in the slightest. He put a hand on my bare knee and squeezed. I looked up to see Niko’s eyes fixed on the movement. I felt horrible, but what was I going to do? Stand and run out of here alone? I couldn’t go home without Silvio. My father would be livid, and I knew what that meant. I never wanted to endure the punishments that came when Antonio De Sanctis was truly angry.

Before I could protest, Nikolai spoke. “Vladna, I see you, and I’ll match it.”

I struggled to understand what exactly he meant in poker terms. He pulled something out of his pocket. He set the object on the center of the felt-lined table. It was an expensive-looking watch. Silvio collected them. He often boasted about his latest extravagance. Silvio leaned in and picked it up, seeming pulled to it.

“A Greubel Forsey 2010—one of only ten in existence.” Silvio’s voice was reverent.

“So, is it enough?”Nikolai sounded bored.

They were haggling over my worth against a designer watch. I could only observe, outraged, as Silvio smoothed a thumb over the watch, transfixed.

“How’d you get it? A guy like you couldn’t buy this.”

“That’s right. I’ve more sense than that. Is it enough?”

“It’s enough,” he said.

I shot out of my seat. “Silvio!”

“Sit down now and stop embarrassing me, or I’ll tell Antonio how you begged to be brought out tonight,” Silvio snapped.

Sinking back into my chair, I looked at Nikolai. He was watching me with an unreadable expression.

The game progressed, and the time came for both men to turn over their cards. They did so in silence. I studied them, not knowing exactly what to make of the result, but my gut suspected. It had known the moment Silvio had put me on the table as a bargaining chip.

“Cazzo,” Silvio swore, throwing his cards across the table. One of them hit Nikolai’s arm.

“What does it mean?” I asked numbly as Silvio stood.

“It means we are leaving. It’s time to go, Sofia,” Silvio said and grabbed my arm so hard it hurt.

I cried out as he dragged me out of my seat.

“I think you’ll find you have your hands on my property, De Sanctis,” Nikolai said, unfolding himself to his towering height and looking down at Silvio.

Silvio chuckled, but it sounded nervous. “You aren’t serious? She’s Antonio De Sanctis’ daughter. Do you think I’d trade her in poker to a piece-of-shit Moscow peasant like you? Get real, Chernov.”

Something dark and utterly terrifying moved through Nikolai’s eyes.He stayed still as Silvio dragged me toward the door, his hard fingers biting into my arm.

“Think carefully about what you’re about to do,” Nikolai called after him. “You don’t want me as your enemy, De Sanctis.”

“You don’t scare me. Run back to Coney Island and cry to Viktor about it if you’re sad.”

With that, Silvio tugged me so hard that I tumbled to the floor. With a curse, he wrenched me up and pulled me from the room and up the stairs.

I couldn’t look back or I’d risk falling again, and it already felt like my arm was coming out of the socket. I could have screamed or protested, shouted at him for hurting me, but I was brought up in this world of powerful men, and I knew what dangers lay that way. At the end of my father’s discipline, I’d learned the consequences of making a scene.

Besides, I was glad we were leaving. Whatever Nikolai Chernov wanted with me sent freezing-cold shivers, followed by roiling heat, through me. He might be a similar age to me, but we were decades apart in experience. I had no idea how to handle a man like that. He was terrifying and enthralling, and getting too close would burn me. I could taste the singed flesh already. He’d agreed to win me in a game, for fuck’s sake. He was dangerous, and every instinct in my bones was telling me to run away.

6

NIKOLAI

Now

Ifell from dark, disturbing dreams into awareness. My neck ached. I’d fallen asleep sitting up. My body was cold, and the fire was dying gently beside me.

In my dream, I’d seen my father falling down dead, over and over. He had been the tie between my past and my future. He had been my purpose for so long. Now, I was adrift. Kirill waspakhan, and I was the spare.

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