“Why is it a shame?” Saro asks, but he must know the Orlovs and the Mancinis mix like oil and water.

“You’re a man of such high class and dignity, I just find it a little unnerving that you would have a friendship with a man whose principles are built on the exact opposite.”

“Oh well—” Saro interjects as Trent chats with Yegor. My blood is thickening and coursing with red-hot fire. Who does this bitch think he is interrupting my meeting? Crossing my arms, I arch and eyebrow at him.

“What she means is she isn’t well equipped to deal with competition, are you Donna?” he spits out, barely able to hold his laugh in.

“You’re on thin ice,” I warn, touching my fingers to the outline of my gun inside my purse.

“Russians are very good on the ice. We have excellent ice hockey players in the game. Especially in New York,” Nikk banters, his teeth showing, but it’s not in a friendly way. It’s the baring of his teeth. Quickly, I note the skulls on his forearm, and I know there are many more he’s buried. I understand all too well what the Bratva tattoos stand to illustrate.

“Russian ice hockey players are everywhere. Same as Canadian hockey players, what are you getting at?” I ask dryly as Nikk chuckles and Saro enjoys what to him probably seems like banter, but every time a sentence comes out of Nikk’s mouth I must resist the urge to shove the muzzle of the gun down it.

“Oh, I’m merely talking about Russian’s being prevalent in New York. We’re doing well there,” he taunts as I catch his drift.

“Ah, Elena. My condolences to you about your father. Such an unfortunate passing,” he says smoothly, my eyes beginning to smart. “I heard you were close to your Uncle Nicolo too. Tsk tsk.” Yegor’s tight mouth evens out into a thin smile, his diabolical intent evident.

“Shut up. Shut up. Don’t talk about my uncle!” I yell as Saro’s mouth drapes open and Nikk grins, claiming his minor victory. Pressing my eyes shut, I will him to stop talking as I drop my purse down from my shoulder, my arm shaking.

“No, Elena, it’s good to talk about these things. You shouldn’t bottle them up,” he coaxes, his obsidian pupils cutting into mine.

“I didn’t mean to upset you honey,” he relays in a condescending tone. “I mean, it was awful what happened to him. I hated seeing him killed like that right in front of my eyes. Boom!” Yegor demonstrates a gun symbol with his hand, his low rumble of laughter, invoking a twitch to tug at the corner of my eye. “You must have been devastated when you heard the news,” Yegor continues, my chest heaving as if a knife has just been plunged into it.

“I thought I told you to shut up,” I grit out, Nikk and Yegor now with mirthful smirks on their smug faces.

“Umm, I think we should probably shelf this conversation for another time. I think it’s clear that Elena’s uncomfortable,” Trent adds politely, but it’s too late. My infamous Mancini temper is flaring into overload.

A volcano of anger erupts inside me, boiling over like hot lava, until I can’t stand it. If I don’t shoot my gun, I’m going to explode from the inside out. “You maiale grasso! I will snap your neck like a chicken bone!” Heat blooms on my cheeks as I scramble for my gun in my purse, point it at Yegor, and quickly pull the trigger.

A single gunshot fires through the air, the parabellum bullet grazing Yegor’s arm as he grabs it, wincing in pain. Serves him right. “You are a fucking psycho bitch! You shot me,” he wails as pandemonium rings out on the boat, people scattering in multiple directions. I square up to unleash my second round of bullets, raising my gun to eye level as both my potential business partners flee, leaving only Matteo and I to battle with the Orlovs.

I can’t see anything else but a dead Orlov, and I’m out for blood. “You asshole!” I rasp. “How dare you talk about my uncle.” Breathily heavily, I aim, not thinking straight, and Yegor raises his gun to eye level, pointing it at me shakily. The undeniable click of a safety being released sounds at the base of my skull from Nikk as my arms are wrenched behind my head, my gun skittering to the deck of the boat. Matteo has his gun trained at Nikk’s head.

“Looks like we’re all a little fucked now, Donna,” Nikk points out, his vodka breath on my neck making my skin crawl.

My head’s whooshing, a fresh burst of adrenaline rushing through it as I hold my breath, not knowing Nikk’s next move. “I dare you to shoot me, Nikk,” I state bravely, squirming as his anaconda-like grip holds me in place.

“Put the fucking gun down, Nikk,” Matteo commands, “before I shoot you right between the eyes.” The red and blue lights of the Monaco police flash in my peripheral, quickly followed by the harshness of wailing sirens from the street. Police boats approach a short distance away, and in a few minutes the boat is going to be swarming with cops.

Yegor groans in pain, blood trickling down the length of his arm as he folds just like the bitch he is, dropping his gun. Nikk has no choice. Even if he wants to take me out, now isn’t the time. I doubt he has Monaco police connections.

“Grr! Fuck it. Yegor! Let’s go.” I feel the heat from the back of my neck dissipate as Nikk drops my arms, scampering off.

Expanding my lungs, I let myself catch what’s left of my breath. “Shit. That was a close call.” More so out loud than to Matteo, who slowly drops his gun.

“Are you okay, Bella?”

Doubling over I cough, trying to regain my breath. “Yep. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

Chapter Four

Nikk

So, the night didn’t go as planned. In fact, it turned out to be even more exciting than I envisioned. No, I didn’t get laid, but I did get a kick out of the Donna’s healthy display of anger. Showered and calm, I open the curtains of my lavish suite near the Monaco waterfront, half expecting the cops to show up. I think about it some more, knowing the Mancinis want as little trouble as possible right now, especially after the death of Rocco.

Both of us have cops on payroll, but in our own territories, not necessarily Monaco. Each of us would be relying on our Monaco connections to keep us out of trouble. I doubt the little Mancini princess would have ratted me out, otherwise it would land both of us in hot water.

She has my cock hard, recalling her quick draw, the barrel of the gun eagerly pointed at Yegor. Silly fool. I scoff, dropping my cigars into my side pocket, ready to descend to the hotel lobby bar as if nothing happened, because it didn’t. Yegor was shot, but it was stupid of him to tease her so openly in front of her associates. My phone pings. Good. I look down at the confirmation. Yegor’s been sewn up. Grinning, I shrug into my leather jacket, heading downstairs. I barely notice the opulent décor. I’m used to it, and once you’ve seen one bougie hotel, you’ve seen them all. The doctor came fast enough it seems, and as far as I’m concerned, it’s business as usual.