Page 72 of Emerald Malice

“Everything alright?” Shura asks. “You’ve been distracted all night.”

Reluctantly, I put my phone away. “All good.”

But Shura’s eyes linger.

Luckily, I spot Viktor across the club. Shura’s attention flickers to him and both our faces fall into near-identical scowls.

“He’s plastered,” Shura hisses in disgust.

My brother has each of his arms draped around a different woman, both stumbling under his weight as they ferry him across the dance floor. They’re as much of a mess as he is: eyeliner running like black rivers down their cheeks, smudged lipstick smeared across their faces and his alike.

I snap my fingers and my men converge around the three of them.

Viktor looks up and squawks in amusement. “Aw, look, ladies—an honor guard, just for me.”

I dismiss the women with another snap and two bodyguards hustle them out of the limelight.

The soldiers who commandeered my brother pass him off to Efrem, who supports Viktor one-handed but angles his face away from him as though delinquency and cheap liquor are contagious.

“Heyooo, broski,” Viktor garbles. Efrem dumps him in the seat opposite me and he hiccups. “Yo, someone get me a drink! The stronger, the better.”

Everyone ignores him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?” I ask calmly, one arm thrown over the black leather armchair.

“Huh?” Leave it to Viktor to slur a single syllable.

“You’ve only been married a few months, brat. And yet here you are, loitering around with…” My eyes drift toward the back entrance where my men conveyed Viktor’s girls away. “… with distractions that are beneath even you.”

He tries to smile but his face is so paralyzed by alcohol that it comes out as a sort of awkward grimace. “Just having some fun. If it’s good enough for Otets, it’s good enough for me.”

“And you want to be like him, do you?”

“Easier than being like you,” he hisses bitterly.

What he has to be bitter about, I have no fucking clue. Nor do I have the patience or the interest to find out.

“Ivan Obnizov is my top smuggler,” I remind him, not for the first time. “You almost fucked up that alliance once before. Doing it again will have consequences.”

Viktor sits tall for a second, only to fall sideways into the armrest. “You say that as if the last time didn’t have consequences. In case you forgot, you forced me to marry the fuckin’ ice queen.”

“That ‘ice queen’ was promised to another man. A fact that you conveniently forgot when you decided her pussy meant more to you than my trust.”

Viktor rolls his eyes. “I married her, didn’t I?”

“Your duties don’t end there. Marrying Mila is one thing; keeping her happy is another.”

“That was never part of the deal,” he grits out.

“The ‘deal’ is whatever I say it is.” I nod at Efrem and he proceeds to haul Viktor to his feet. “Go home to your wife, Viktor. And stop embarrassing yourself.”

“Men have affairs, Andrey!” he barks. “It’s natural. It’s expected. My wife needs to fucking fall in line.”

Efrem tightens his grip on Viktor, making him wince with pain.

“I’m your brother!” he bellows, spit flying through the air. “Not the shit under your boot you want to get rid of.”

“At the moment,” I say, “I can’t tell the difference. Now, get the fuck out of my sight.” Drained by the conversation, I get to my feet, ready to put this whole miserable day behind me.

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