Page 196 of Cashmere Cruelty

“Do you really think you could do that?” I sneer regardless. “Ruin me before I can ruin you?”

“People say my Bratva is dying,” Vlad remarks. “I suppose it isn’t far from the truth. It’s why I need an heir in the first place: a strong man who can lead us into the future. And make no mistake, son—no one would like you to be that man more than me. But if you couldn’t be that…” For a second, his eyes flash as cold as Petra’s. “Then I’d show you just how dangerous a beast on its dying breath can be.”

Kill him, my instincts scream at me.Kill him now and be done with it. Be done with him.

But where would that push my revenge?

“But of course, this is all just hypothetical.” Vlad backs off, hands raised, voice pleasant again. “Like I said, we’re still friends. All that’s left to settle is a date.”

I clench my fists so tight my knuckles start bleeding again.

If all I did was call things off with Petra after the baby’s birth, it would have still been salvageable. If I’d spun Vlad a tale of duty and honor, maybe an alliance would have still been possible. Maybe he would have even taken Yuri as a replacement. As long as I named him my heir, it would have been acceptable.

And I would have. God, I would have.

But now, there’s a baby.

And if I risk Vlad’s wrath, there’s no telling what would happen to mine.

I could protect them, the man in me insists. I could protect my child and April both. Get them out of the city, out of the country. As much as it would tear my heart from my chest, I’d do it.

But no one can keep somebody else safe twenty-four-seven. Not even the strongestpakhanin the world.

As it stands, there is only one thing I can do. Only one choice left to make.

“Sunday.”

Vlad blinks. “I beg your pardon?”

“The wedding will be celebrated on Sunday,” I force out. “I trust this settles the matter to everyone’s satisfaction.”

For a moment, Vlad looks like he wants to object. I wait for him to do it. Wait for him to give me the last excuse I need to whip out my gun and make a mess of my carpets.

But all he does is nod. “Very well,” he agrees. “Sunday it is.”

When he offers me his hand this time, I don’t shake it.

The second he’s out the door, I hear Yuri heave a sigh of relief.

Then Grisha steps in front of me. “What the hell is going on, man?”

It’s the first time I’ve heard him speak like that. Insubordinate. “Remember your place, Grisha,” I growl.

“Apologies,” he amends. “I’ll rephrase. What the hell is going on,boss?”

“What’s going on is that I’m getting married,” I snarl. “As we all knew I would eventually. And I don’t owe you a fucking explanation.”

“You certainly don’t,” Grisha says flatly. “But I’d very much appreciate one. And so, I suspect, would April.”

“Donotsay her name!” I slam my injured hand on the table. Red spreads to the papers underneath.

Blood in the water.

“Gather thevory,” I command. “And do not ever question me again. It’ll be the last time I let you.”

“Grisha…” Yuri puts a hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine. Just… leave it at that. Please.”

Grisha looks between me and Yuri. His eyes are filled with suspicion—he can tell something happened while he was elsewhere, and he can tell Yuri knows, too. After all, he isn’t my third for nothing.

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