Page 80 of Corrupted Heart

Okay, I did promise Davit and his son that I wouldn’t say anything. But Ares doesn’t count. And even if I don’t know Drazen that well, it’s clear that he’s the sort of man to value silence and discretion.

“He’s…laid up,” I say in a slow, measured tone. “Hospital bed, in his home office.” I eye them both. “I’d appreciate you keeping that strictly to yourselves.”

Ares gets that I’m saying this more to Drazen, but nods anyway.

“Of course.”

“Not a word,” Drazen adds.

“Davit said it was a temporary liver thing, but I don’t know. I tried to dig a little, but his son…”

Drazen’s mouth twists. “Arian was there?”

I glance at my brother, then back to Drazen. “You know him?”

Drazen doesn’t say a word, move a single muscle, or even blink. I take that as a “next question” sort of statement and move on.

“Arian is…”

“Tempestuous,” Drazen finishes quietly. “You said Davit said it had been smoothed over?”

I nod.

“Then you’d better hope his illness really is temporary. If Arian were sitting on the throne, you can bet he’d have a different idea about things being ‘smoothed over’.”

I share another quick look with my brother.

Interesting.

My phone rings. Frowning, I take it out and glance at the screen. Taylor’s name and face pop up, but I let it go to voicemail. I can check in with her later about whatever it is.

“You’re friends with Ms. Crown?”

I raise my eyes to Drazen, who’s looking at my phone with a strange expression on his face.

“She’s my lawyer.”

Drazen nods, still looking at my phone. When I slide it back into my pocket, the odd spell over him lifts.

“How do you find her…legal expertise,” he growls quietly.

“Uh, great?” I shrug. “If you’re looking for representation, Crown and Black are fantastic. Seriously, she’s a phenomenal lawyer.”

“Indeed,” the mysterious Serbian murmurs, almost to himself. He clears his throat, pulling his lips into what I guess passes for Drazen’s version of a smile. “If you will excuse me, I need to see to a piece of business before I indulge in any more of your excellent champagne, Mr. Drakos.” He nods as he clinks his empty glass to mine. “Cestitiam on your engagement, Kratos.”

Ares shakes his head, eyeing Drazen as he disappears into the crowd. “That dude scares the shit out of me.”

I chuckle, patting Ares on the shoulder. “Ten bucks says it’s all bullshit and scary bedtime stories the Bratva told their kids growing up.”

“What, like the one where they call him the headsman back in Serbia?” Ares snorts, running his fingers over the stubble on his chin. “I’m just saying, if the fucking Bratva tell their kids scary bedtime stories about him, I’m just glad he seems to like us. He’s like your size with Deimos’…well, Deimos-ness.”

I know he means “psycho-ness”.

Oh, if only you knew, brother.

You don’t need to inject crazy into me to make me Drazen. It’s why he and I get along, without ever having had a single conversation about it.

Because in an alternate universe, where I’m unlucky enough to be born into war-torn Yugoslavia, and go through whatever shit Drazen did?

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