Page 171 of Emerald Malice

“Whatever it is, make it fast,” I bark. “I’m busy.”

“Er, it’s Natalia,” he says quickly. “She’s… Brother, she’s not doing?—”

Heavy footsteps grow louder. “Leonty, you’ll have to handle it for now. Mila’s with you, isn’t she?”

“Yes, but?—”

“And Remi?”

“Yes, sir, but?—”

“That’s what they’re there for: to help her. Use your best judgment. I have to go.”

I hang up on his strangled protest and turn my phone to silent. Guilt weighs on my shoulder, but the stakes are high. I can’t afford to be distracted.

Natalia will be a lot worse off if I don’t take this meeting.

Slavik is an imminent threat. Letting him move unchecked could have consequences that stretch far beyond the safety of my family alone. My entire empire could be compromised.

I pocket my phone as the door opens. Shura enters first, holding the door for my father and brother. As soon as they are through, he slams the door closed on the rest of my father’s men.

Fyodor hisses from the hallway, but Shura bolts the door with a smug smile.

“Was that necessary?” Slavik drawls.

“It’s for the pakhan to decide what’s necessary,” Shura replies coldly. “Not you.”

Viktor glowers. “How dare you? Do I need to remind you?—”

Slavik holds up a hand and Viktor goes silent. “That’s okay, Viktor. Loyalty is to be commended. No matter how misplaced.”

“Sit down,” I order, suddenly impatient to get them out of my house as soon as possible.

Slavik claims the biggest armchair. “How interesting to be asked to sit in my own home. As though I were a guest.”

I take the sofa directly opposite him. Up close, I can see the changes. He’s fitter than I would have expected for a man closing in on his seventies. The mess of hair he used to sport is gone now, replaced by a close-shaved crewcut that makes him look younger and more severe at the same time.

Viktor stands at Slavik’s back like a nervous guard dog, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“Sit, brother,” I tell him. “Your remaining hand is safe from me today.”

Viktor opens his mouth to snap back, but Slavik clears his throat and jabs his chin towards a chair. Viktor holds his tongue and sits down.

Good boy. Heel for your master.

“It was poor form, punishing your brother that way,” Slavik admonishes me coolly. “I’m told his hand will never be fully functional again.”

“I thought that would be preferable to him being dead.”

“You made an invalid of your brother for a cheap piece of pussy?” He shakes his head in quiet disapproval. “We are Kuznetsovs! We don’t fuck riffraff. We certainly don’t knock them up.”

My smile dies as my jaw clenches.

Seeing that, my father sighs. “I shouldn’t need to say we don’t let ourselves come to care about riffraff, either—but it seems you might need to relearn that lesson.”

It was a slight slip of my mask, but it was enough. I won’t let it happen again.

“She’s carrying my child. That is all.”

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