Page 102 of Cashmere Cruelty

“Run a full background check,” I order. “I want to know everything about this woman and her known associates. Don’t leave anything out, especially from her past.”

Grisha gives me a curious glance from the rear-view mirror. If he has a comment, for once, he’s wise enough to keep it to himself. “Yes, sir.”

Then we pull up to the venue.

A valet takes the car for us. I unfurl from my seat with a pop of my shoulders. That bone-deep relaxation I was feeling in the bath has evaporated completely. It’s a message from my body to my mind: from now on, it’s all business.

Which is curious, considering where we are.

Hedoneros Club.The Groza Bratva’s newest business venture: an exclusive club with stellar franchise potential, spearheaded by our newestvor. A man of excess—and this club reflects that in every detail, starting from the name: the goddess of pleasure and the god of love, joined in a single tacky neologism.

Ipatiy comes to greet me at the entrance. He’s a portly man with a sunny disposition and a knack for making friendsworth millions. The Muñoz family, for example, who controls shipments for every experimental drug this side of the East Coast and often has him over for dinner. Apparently, César makes a mean empanada.

“Welcome, welcome!” my man bellows, grinning from ear to ear.

“Ipatiy,” I greet with a firm handshake. “Opening night seems to be going well.”

“Oh, more than well,moy pakhan.” Ipatiy beams. “Did you see the line out front? Stretches all the way into the street.”

I didn’t. Men like me don’t stand in line, and I don’t often pay attention to things that don’t concern me. Still, I give a short nod. “Impressive.”

“Thank you, sir. That means the world, coming from you.”

It damn well should.“I’m assuming there’s a table for us somewhere.”

“Oh! Of course!” Ipatiy flounders, rubbing his thick hands together. “This way, please.”

Ipatiy leads us through the club, giving us the panoramic view. Blue and red lights cast their neon glow over the guests’ faces, painting everyone in a double hue that never quite melts into purple. Eros and Hedone—love and pleasure.

If there are two things thataren’tmeant to mesh, it’s those two.

A futuristic-looking elevator takes us to the roof. I step out onto a terrace filled with greenery, encased in a glass dome that turns the night sky into the club’s starlit ceiling. I hum with approval on the inside, but don’t let it show. The worst thing avorcan dois get cocky. I won’t let Ipatiy think he’s already got what he’s chasing.

Besides, my approval is fickle.

And a lot can happen in one night.

Ipatiy leads us to a round table at the edge of the dome. Yuri’s already there, springing up when he sees me. “Motya.”

My lips twitch with a smile I keep to myself. The relief on Yuri’s face is impossible to miss. There’s only one thing he hates more than socializing, and that’s socializing by himself. Even Grisha’s presence at my side isn’t enough to put him off.

“Enjoy yourself, brother?” I ask, biting back a smirk.

“To death. Hopefully, it comes sooner rather than later.”

Next to us, Ipatiy preens, seeming to take it as a compliment. Then he excuses himself to go greet the stragglers.

“Poor Yurochka,” Grisha croons to Yuri as soon as Ipatiy’s out of earshot. “Up so late past your bedtime. Do you want the car keys? You can take a nap in the backseat.”

“I’m shocked the DMV’s still letting you drive.”

“Down, boys,” I chide. “Or else I’ll have to order you to kiss and make up, and no one here wants to see that.”

They grumble and grouse, but neither one is keyed up enough to keep picking a fight right now. Not when there’s business to attend to.

“Champagne?” a smiling waitress asks with exquisite timing as she glides by with a tray.

“Yes,” we all say in unison.

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