Page 53 of Koroleva

It had been three days since I had held a meeting with all the staff to introduce Romeo, so he clearly knew who we were, his bosses, and our faces didn’t look like we had just won the lottery.

I saw him hastily apologize, claiming he had nothing to tell, gave a brief nod towards us, and hurried away.

Sánchez sensed our presence. A hyena-like smile formed on his thin lips, and his scrutinizing gaze lingered on us as we appeared.

"Well, well, well. And here I thought I wouldn't have the honor, that you would send one of your legendary bodyguards to stop me from snooping around your trash. But no, the fashionable couple has interrupted their honeymoon to personally come and dismiss me. My sincerest congratulations on your union. It’s been a while since something like this has happened in Spain, especially considering you both come from rival mafia clans. Have you considered selling your story to Netflix or Amazon? I’m sure they’d pay you a fortune."

"What the hell are you doing at my place, you leech?" I exclaimed bluntly. Jonás bit his lower lip.

"Worse things have been said to me. I'm also delighted to see you, Mrs. Koroleva, or should I say, Capulet?"

"I’ve restrained myself and used a word that you can define in your corydoras mind."

"If there were no corydoras, aquariums would be full of shit. So I take pride in being compared to a scavenger fish because that’s exactly what I do—I bring to light the most toxic waste of those who think they are above everything and everyone."

"You are a parasite, not the superhero you pretend to be. Do you really think I’m like those at Ciba?"

"I see you’ve read my article. Did you enjoy it?"

"Yeah, I’m thinking of printing it out and wiping my ass with it." Jonás let out a soft laugh.

"I wouldn’t advise that; you might get a word stuck. You know, because of having caused death while promising to bring joy." I was boiling with rage. I raised my hand to slap him, but Romeo held me back before I could hit him. Sánchez clicked his tongue.

"Oooh, was that physical violence, Mrs. Koroleva?"

"That was 'shut your damn mouth if you don’t know what you’re talking about.'" Romeo pulled me against his side. I wasn’t quite sure if he was trying to calm me down or keep me from gouging the eyes out of that wretch.

"Don’t I?" the rat continued. "I think I do. I know you better than you think."

"You don’t know shit about me."

"Nikita Koroleva, twenty-seven years old, born in Saint Petersburg. Daughter of Vladimir Korolev and Jelena Petrova. Second child of the marriage and new Vor v zakone of the Russian Bratva. Studied Business and took over the family's business empire after the unexpected deaths of her father and brother, who should have inherited the title instead of you. Speaks four languages and is considered a cold, calculating, and ruthless woman. No known relationships, though plenty of lovers. Your uncle, who also recently passed away, was a major headache for global authorities. A family with a lengthy and murky history. Since taking over Korpe, you’ve failed to silence the rumors claiming Mentium as the most addictive and deadly drug of the century. Plus, you've married Romeo Capuleto Vitale, heir to the ‘Ndrangheta, who, until your marriage, was your arch-rival. You had never been seen together, which gives off a certain whiff of... a marriage of convenience. Want me to go on?" Okay, I admit, he had studied us down to the last detail. "Breathe, Nikita, breathe," I told myself. I needed to keep a cool head if I was going to get anywhere.

"What do you want?" I asked, teeth clenched.

"To prove she's a murderer. That she's been doctoring reports and silencing voices about the adverse effects of the drug. I want justice, and I want her to kneel before all those families from whom she's ruthlessly taken a loved one."

"Justice? Are you now a judge?"

"No, I'm not. But I'm neither a fool nor a simpleton. One thing is dealing in trafficking, arms, or prostitution, I couldn't care less about that. But it's entirely different to kill innocent people, whose only sin was trusting they could be a little happier."

"You're an ignorant man who can't see beyond his nose, daring to judge without knowing. A fool, you have no damn idea what's going on."

"Oh, really? And what is happening, according to you? Enlighten me," he said jokingly.

I debated whether to speak up or stay silent. Unsure of what was better, Romeo spoke for me.

"We believe someone might have tampered with the medication behind my wife's back."

"Romeo!" I exclaimed. The journalist raised his eyebrows interestedly.

"Wow, what a bombshell and how convenient," he replied cynically. "Really, you have nothing better to do than to pin your responsibilities on a worker? But what else can one expect from mafia heirs? Refuse to take the blame? No, better to sweep it under the rug and hide the bodies, some traditions are too good to give up."

"Nobody said it was a worker," Romeo responded calmly.

"Then what? Looking for something more creative? Let me think... The competition? A scorned lover?"

"We don't know. What we're asking is that you stop harassing us while we figure it out. Your articles aren't helping." His smug smile returned.

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