Page 57 of Vicious Little Games

“You're Petrov's grandson, aren't you?” he asks in English.

Wow. They recognized me even faster than I expected.

“So, I've been told,” I respond coolly.

“Your mother didn't teach you our mother tongue? What a shame,” the one with visible nose hairs remarks.

“Ah, I’m not sure if my mother even knows any Russian.”

“Of course, she does,” Eyebrows says. “Yuri and his old lady never spoke English unless it was necessary to communicate with outsiders.” With that comment, he gives away that he knew my grandfather well enough to meet his wife. He then glares at Cass, making me certain these men are biased against anyone not born Russian. There’s no way they could know she’s Dante’s daughter.

My observation is further proven when Nose Hair says to Cass, "You could earn good money for us, khoroshen'kaya suka."

I’m certain whatever he called her in Russian wasn’t a compliment.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not a whore,” Cass replies. “And if you even insinuate such a thing again to me, I'll show you all that my father taught me. Here’s a hint—it’s not a shitty language.”

“What are your names?” I ask, turning my back to Cass as if I couldn't care less that she's there.

“I’m Lev,” Eyebrows says. “And this is Ony,” he says, referring to Nose Hair.

I hold out my palm to shake each of their hands. “I bet you have a lot of great stories about my grandfather you could tell me.”

“So many stories,” Lev assures me. “Yuri was a force to be reckoned with. We can't help but wonder if he passed that trait on to you as well.”

“Me? I'm a nobody,” I tell them truthfully. “Just a kid born to a struggling single mother. We scraped by and earned everything we ever had, which is how it should be.”

They say something in Russian to each other that I take to mean they agree. I figure that their generation would respect those who claw their way up rather than have shit handed to them, like spoiled little rich girls.

“You should come back tomorrow night for our poker tournament. Men only,” Ony tells me while giving a pointed look at Cass. “Unless you want to be our entertainment, Red?”

I don't even have time to even think about how Cass would react to his comment. She moves so fast, she's a blur, getting off her stool, stepping in front of me to grab and twist the right wrists of both men at the same time so there’s an echo of the loud snap.

Fuck, that had to hurt.

Our guards are instantly at attention, moving in close, hands on the butt of their guns, ready to back her up.

“Guess you won't be able to enjoy any personal entertainment for a while,” Cass says to them. “Good luck finding someone else who wants to touch your shriveled old cocks for you.”

It takes every ounce of strength to keep from laughing at the men. Their faces are the brightest red under the sun, angry, embarrassed, and in severe pain, but neither make a sound more than a grunt.

“We should probably head out,” I suggest, getting between her and the assholes before they try to retaliate out of anger. “You made a mistake in insulting and then underestimating her, gentlemen. You would be smart to not let it happen again.”

Before we make our way out of the bar where all eyes are now on us, a young blonde woman comes out from the back and speaks to the men in Russian as she calls over others to drag them away.

“Sorry about that,” she says to me once they disappear, her palms smoothing the skirt of her black hip-hugging dress. “Those old fools like to run their mouths and get pissed when someone fights back. I'm Inessa, the assistant manager. I help run things here. You must be Cole.”

“Ah, yeah. How does everyone know who I am?” I ask her.

“There were pictures of you.”

“Pictures?”

“In the papers and online from a wedding. Everyone has been curious about the mysterious grandson that has been talked about for nearly a year. We were wondering where you were. No social media accounts?”

“No, not for me. I don't need my mother tracking my every move when I'm away at college.”

Her blonde brows lift. “So, you're a college boy?”

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