Page 38 of Stolen By the Bratva King

I groan. “That’s not necessary.”

“You’re upset, boss. You need someone to be there to help ground you,” Vlad says.

“I’m not insane,” I snarl. “I can take care of myself.”

“No one said you couldn’t, but you also shouldn’t carry all these extra burdens by yourself. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” And with that, he hangs up, so I won’t be able to protest further.

Vlad staresat me with his arms folded.

“What?” I blurt, irritation scratching under my ribcage. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You miss her,” Vlad declares with a somber expression.

I belt out a laugh. “You are as crazy as you look.”

Vlad’s expression doesn’t change. “You care more about what’s going on with her than you do about Oleg.”

I cast my eyes away, a muscle in my jaw twitching. “It’s not true.”

“You care about her.” Vlad takes a step forward. “Feelings for a woman can be more dangerous than any bratva lifestyle.”

“She’s too soft for the bratva lifestyle,” I yell, tossing my arms up. “She can’t handle it.”

“You don’t know that,” Vlad says.

“Is she here?” I gesture around the empty living room. “No. This life is not for her. She left at the first sign of pressure.”

Vlad unfolds his arms. “Perhaps we should have a drink. You know, to take the edge off.”

I study him through narrowed eyes. “It’s not the worst idea you’ve ever had.”

Vlad’s eyes glint with excitement. “The night is young. Let us drown our troubles inside a bottle.”

“And I have the perfect one for an occasion like this.” I strut to my liquor cabinet and pluck out the Beluga vodka I’ve been saving.

Vlad’s eyes go as huge as the moon. “You want to openthat?”

“Why not?” I shrug and set it on the counter.

Vlad blinks, glances at the bottle, then back to me, his mouth agape. “You mustreallyneed to forget about this woman.”

He’s right, but I don’t admit it aloud. “Let’s just drink,” I grumble, reaching for two shot glasses.

Vlad shuts his mouth, watching me pour the crystal-clear liquid into two glasses. I slide one to him and pick the other up for myself. We clink them together.

“To loyalty,” I say.

“To health,” Vlad chimes.

“To prosperity, and justice.” I tip my head back and drain the shot glass in one gulp.

Vlad’s eyes are sharp on mine as he swallows. In Russian, he says, “All debts will be paid, David. Don’t worry about it.”

I pour us both another round and glug it back, wincing. “I’m not worried about it.”

Vlad’s eyes water and his lips pucker. “Damn, that’s strong.”

“But it goes down smoother than anything else we could choose,” I say.

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