Page 63 of His Cursed Heart

"A little misunderstanding." I look into his eyes. I take the bottle of scotch that always sits on my desk and I pour into the shiny glass. "Why are you here, Makhim?" I let all the respect aside.

Makhim is a powerful man. His huge build helps him intimidate everyone and his lifeless eyes turn your body cold.

His hatred towards Hanibal is understandable, but unknown. Since I started to be initiated in the underworld, I could've seen the fire in Hanibal eyes when he looked at the Bratva leader.

It's still intact.

While Hanibal loves to show his anger and control over people, Makhim is a statue. His emotions are inexistent and he speaks only when needed.

Makhim can kill Hanibal without an effort, but something is holding him back. And it's not a war between these two mafias.

"Aren't you the Boss of Outfit?" He asks with a raised eyebrow.

"You know I'm not yet." I let myself lean on the chair.

Makhim takes out a thick cigar and a shiny silver lighter from his pocket. The lighter has two large initials on it that stand out.

O.M.

Makhim lets out a thick amount of smoke in the office and sets his eyes back on me.

"I heard about your ex-fiance's body." I take a sip of my drink, remaining unfazed.

"And who told you?"

"Let's say I'm good friends with The Empress." His

twisted smile makes me want to strangle him.

And the Empress.

I haven't heard anything from her since my wedding.

I'll help Arius track this motherfucker.

I haven't talk with either of them.

"How did your wife take the news?" I clench my hand around the glass and I wonder if it'll break.

"This is the second time you asked about my wife," I lean over the desk. "Ask again and you won't have a tongue anymore."

I don't care that I just threatened a Russian Boss. My wife is mine.

The jealousy in me is crazy, but if I can't have my wife in the fucked up ways that I want, no one will.

Makhim laughs and almost chokes with the smoke that is in his lung. He shakes his head and lets the cigar in the ashtray.

"I'm not interested in a twenty-three year old woman." Maybe not, but Althea is fucking gorgeous. People stop in the middle of the street when she's walking by.

And all I want to do is kill them.

"Remember me how your wife died." I know it's a risky move, but fuck it.

His eyes darken and his hands turn into fists.

After twenty-five years, his wife still has a spot on his brain.

"This courage of yours is good for the mafia, but too much and it will bring you death."

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