Page 30 of The Arrangement

“Where to even start?” She brings her gaze to mine. “You’re a mobster. How about starting there?”

“I am. I’m a criminal.”

Her eyes flash, suggesting she hadn’t expected me to be so straightforward. If her ex is any indication, she’s likely used to deceit.

She shakes her head. “I don’t know. When I was dating Ned, I knew he was a crook, a bad guy. But I guess I was able to write it off, like it was some little quirk, or a hobby or something. I knew he wasn’t big time. Didn’t hurt people.”

I say nothing, letting her say everything she needs to say.

“But you… you’re not some guy who runs favors for the mob for a little extra cash and some bragging rights. You’re clearly much more involved than that.” Her gaze drifts over the room, as if my life can be summed up by the wealth that surrounds us.

“I suppose you could say that.”

“And I’m guessing you’re in it for life. Not like Ned.”

Ned had been in it for life, in a matter of speaking. But I understand her point.

“Yes. Ever since I was a boy in Moscow. This is the only world I’ve known.”

“And what’s going to happen? Where is this career of yours going to end up?”

She has no idea what she’s broached with this topic. The question of just who is to take the reins of the Bratva when my father passes or steps down is a point of contention in the family. I, as the eldest, am the front-runner. Not to mention the little detail that I can actually run a business, unlike Aleksey.

Aleksey knows this, knows that it’s only a matter of time until my father announces me as the heir. But until then, he’s keeping his mouth shut – one of the few wise decisions he’s ever made. But there’s no doubt that the fallout will be intense when my father finally makes the call. My half-brother isn’t the type of man to take bad news well.

But Tory doesn’t need to know any of this. It’s “inside baseball,” as the Americans like to say.

“It’s not official yet,” I say. “But my father is likely to name me the heir. He’s not exactly the retiring type, however. So it will be a good long while until I take the reins.”

She shifts in her seat. “Then you’re going to be the boss.”

“I’m going to be the boss.”

A sigh. “You know, there’s a time when the idea of dating the head of the Russian mob would’ve been a hell of a turn-on. But now that I’m looking down the barrel of it…” she trails off.

I can’t resist. “You mean it’s not a turn-on?” I follow my words with a small smile.

Her eyes flash, her mouth forming a hard line. “That’s not the point!”

I chuckle. “I see what you’re saying. Life with me would be outside of the law.”

“Right.”

“It’s a risk, I’m not going to lie. I’ve put in my time, however, paid my dues. My hands-on days are long behind me. Day to day, my life is more like that of a businessman.”

“Except when you’re shaking down people for money.”

“The personal touch is occasionally necessary.”

She bites her lower lip in thought, and damned if it isn’t sexy as hell.

“Hands on… does that mean you’ve killed people?” She challenges me with her gaze.

“I appreciate directness.” But how to reply to her question? The answer is yes, of course. The objective in this conversation is not to scare her, however. “Let’s just say my past is long behind me.”

She shifts in her seat. Tory’s a smart woman; the implication in my phrasing is obvious.

“Right. Okay.” She’s processing. I say nothing.

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