Page 156 of Emerald Malice

At that, the mood turns tense.

Cevdet is the only one brave enough to ask the question on all of their minds. “Is that because you’re biding your time? Or is it because the woman is… unimportant?”

“She’s the mother of my child. There’s nothing more to be said.”

The dismissal is clear. All three men arrange their faces into polite respect and Cevdet pivots into the safe territory of the expansion.

I’m the only one who can’t stop thinking about what I said and how I said it.

Two hours and several more cups of coffee later, I’m saying my goodbyes.

Cevdet hangs back, always determined to have the last word. “Given the current climate, if you need additional protection, I can provide it,” he says, lowering his usually booming voice into something approximating a whisper.

I regard him carefully. “A kind offer, Cevdet, but I happen to know that your men don’t come cheap.”

“For you, my friend, I would provide the service free of charge.”

That takes me back. “Why?”

He runs his tongue over his mustachioed top lip. “I have three daughters, Andrey. And I would go to any trouble to make sure they’re safe. I can recognize that same instinct in other men. I recognized it in you, try as you might to hide it.”

Fucking hell—am I that transparent?

“She is important to you and—No, no, don’t bother denying it. She is important to you. Which means she has a target on her back.” He claps a hand on my shoulder. “Nikolai Rostov is the type of man who would sell his own mother for spare change. He has no honor. But you do. That means something to me.”

I incline my head in gratitude. “That’s generous of you, Cevdet. I will consider your offer carefully.”

“We must protect what’s ours, Andrey,” he says, reverting to his usual ear-splitting volume. “It is our most sacred duty.”

And with that, he follows Luca and Bujar out through the gilded doors.

56

NATALIA

It was clear from the moment Andrey burst into the pool house and declared that we were all going out to dinner that he was happy about something. I can only imagine that his meeting went well.

Not that we’ve been alone long enough to talk about it. Since the moment we sat down to eat, he has been carrying the conversation, laughing the loudest, talking the most, making sure everyone is involved.

Still, his hand finds mine under the table. He drapes an arm over the back of my chair. When the drinks come out, he checks to make sure mine is virgin before he hands it back to me with a wink.

I’ve never seen him like this before—with me or anyone else.

Andrey speaks of the Bratva as a family, but I always assumed it was in the corporate sense. We’re a big family here. We have a unique culture. We care about your wellbeing—unless it affects our bottom line.

But Andrey is friends with the men in his employ.

He makes his way around the room, laughing, joking, and swapping stories. He spends a full ten minutes ragging on Anatoly for the silk floral shirt he’s wearing. When Leonty jumps on board, Anatoly threatens to strangle him with his own napkin, and the three men dissolve into laughter.

“Yelena, the dumplings are for you,” Andrey announces, waving the plate under her nose. “I know you love them.”

“I can’t have another,” the old woman groans. “I have to watch my weight.”

“Watch it another night. It isn’t going anywhere.” Andrey grins wickedly.

“Andrey!” I gasp, smacking him on the elbow with the back of my hand.

“Cheeky little bastard,” Yelena hisses before grabbing the dumplings he’s offering her.

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