Page 62 of Ruthless Reign

“When a man looks like that,” she purrs, “you know he’ll be amazing in bed. So what if he’s bratva; there’s nothing wrong with a little danger.”

My nails dig into my palms underneath the table. “Roman, really? I had no idea you were his type.”

“Oh, you'd be surprised. Men like Roman—real men—are looking for a woman they know can rule by their side. They're not interested in”—she makes a flicking motion with her hand that is clearly aimed at me—“a meek little mouse. They want a woman who's confident and experienced. Up for anything.”

My expression is brittle. “In that case, I hope your date is a success. Seems like you and Roman are a perfect match.”

She gives me an indulgent smile. “You’ll see for yourself, won’t you.” She checks her watch. “I must run. And just a friendly tip: don’t wear red. It makes you look sallow.”

I fight the rush of jealousy flickering in my chest.

Katerina is despicable, and there’s nothing to envy about her. Except for one thing—she’ll be on Roman’s arm, and I won’t.

That alone sets my blood on fire.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

ROMAN

When the foreman gives the signal, I step out of my car into the dark, frigid night alongside Viktor, our syndicate's head of security. I gesture to the vehicles behind me, and a dozen of my men quickly follow, moving toward the ship that docked just minutes ago.

Ports are nasty places, especially this one on the edge of the Black Sea. It smells like dead fish and broken dreams, but I find it oddly comforting. This area of the port is Belov property, and no one in their right mind would mess with us here, including the authorities.

From the gangway, Viktor and I enter onto the cargo deck, where the longshoremen are waiting on our instructions. They haven’t started unloading because they know our men need to personally inspect each and every container, filled with millions of dollars of cocaine, as it comes off the ship.

It's not our usual operating procedure, but since the late shipment and Anatoly’s secret meetings with the Zhukov Bratva, I’m being cautious. I don’t trust the guy worth shit.

“I’m gonna go down and let the guys know what we’re looking for,” Viktor says, heading towards the crew.

I nod and make my way to the upper deck when something catches my eye. A single high-heeled shoe, scuffed and abandoned, sticking out from under a sealed container door.

That’s fucking strange. I can’t imagine a single woman has set foot on this ship, possibly ever.

Maybe I’m overthinking things. I toss the high heel behind me and climb the stairs to find myself a better vantage point.

The heavy scent of salt and metal fills the air as I give a signal to my men to start. One by one, each container is lowered onto the ground. The clang and clatter of chains and machinery echo as the foreman opens the first container and our men step inside to confirm the delivery hasn’t been tampered with. We’ll weigh and test the product once we get it back to our warehouse, but I want to make sure nothing’s been opened while en route.

Viktor comes up beside me, resting his arms on the railing. His black hair glints blue in the ship’s artificial lights as both of us watch the proceedings below. As each container is checked and verified, my men step out and give us the thumbs up.

I can feel Viktor’s scrutinizing gaze on me before he speaks. “So far, so good. No sign of tampering on this shipment … or the last.”

I huff out a breath, which turns into a white cloud in the cold air. “I know, but something still feels off.”

Viktor sighs and brushes a knuckle over his chin. “Is this about Anatoly’s secret meeting with the Zhukovs or something else?”

A pang hits me square in the chest. If the “something else” is a dark auburn-haired beauty I can’t get out of my mind, then yeah. My distrust of Anatoly may have something to do with her and that bruise on her face, or the way she puts on a faux-sweet voice when she’s trying to calm him down.

It reminds me so much of how my mother was with my father. How she carefully tiptoed around his temper, always trying to keep the peace in a house that was anything but peaceful.

I couldn’t protect my mother, but every damn instinct inside me screams for me to take care of Liza, even though it’s not in my own best interest.

Fuck. Maybe I’m losing it.

When I don’t answer, Viktor claps me on the back. “Got some intel on the Zhukovs.”

My eyebrows raise. “You have my attention.”

Since learning of their identity, we’ve been making inquiries into the Zhukov Bratva. It’s headed by two brothers, Nikolai and Sergey. Although Nikolai, the older of the two, was in jail until recently.

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