Page 130 of Cashmere Cruelty

“Make our money back in three years,” I repeat, rising from my chair, “and you can move forward with this.”

Yuri looks over the moon. “Yes,pakhan.”

“Cut it out.” I give a light slap to the back of his head. “I swear, it’s like you think I’ll hit you.”

“Youdidhit me,” Yuri points out. “Just now.”

“Trust me: if I’d hit you, you’d know.”

Pushing Yuri’s strange behavior aside, I check my phone again. A new picture has popped up: Petra’s bodyguards, raidingmypantry.

Also, we’re out of food, the caption reads.

I’m itching to walk out the door. Christ, it’s not evenfive. Am I really so keyed up that I can’t wait a couple of hours to give April the punishment I promised her?

I’m this close to ordering Grisha to drive me back. Take an early leave and kick Petra’s goddamn locusts out, kickeverybodyout, until it’s just me and April. Until I can finish what I never got a chance to start this morning.

And then the door bursts open.

My hands fly to my gun. So do my men’s. But it’s only for an instant: the second I see who it is, I lower mine. But I don’t tell them to lower theirs.

“Vlad,” I greet coldly.

“You!” Vlad splutters, followed by two brainless gorillas that roughly resemble the ones I fired earlier. Seriously, does the vacant stare come with the job or do they give them a complimentary lobotomy? “Do not ‘Vlad’ me. You know why I’m here.”

“I’ll assume this is a social call.” The threat in my tone is clear enough:Do not test me.

Unfortunately, Vlad’s not much brighter than the company he keeps. “What are your intentions with my daughter?” he demands, spittle flying everywhere. Grisha looks tempted to hold out an umbrella for me. Really, I wouldn’t say no.

“Marriage,” I deadpan. “You’ve known this for a while, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Marriage! You’ve got some nerve, young man.”

“A necessary quality for anypakhanworth their salt, you’ll agree.”

Clearly losing the battle with his own nerves, Vlad pushes on. “You think we’re all idiots, huh?” I don’t answer that. It wouldn’t be diplomatic. “You think I don’t know what you’re up to?”

“Enlighten me.”

He slams a dried-up palm on my desk. “Where’s the DNA test?!” he screeches, frantically looking around the office like he thinks he’s going to find it pinned under a paperweight. “And don’t even think of lying to me. I want a straight answer: Is thatcurva’s brat yours or not?!”

My gaze turns to ice.Don’t kill him, I chant over and over in my head.He’s your future father-in-law.

If I didn’t need his daughter’s godforsaken dowry, he’d have bigger concerns than even my hands around his throat.

But somehow, I manage to rein myself in. Unlike Vlad, I know how to play this game. And I’m not about to lose to a geriatric idiot’s idle threats.

“Ms. Flowers’schild,” I correct icily with a firm step forward, “is none of your concern.”

“None of my concern!” Vlad balks. “You’ve beendishonoringmy daughter! And you won’t even take responsibility?—”

“The DNA test has already been run.”

That seems to douse Vlad’s flames, if only a bit. “Well, then?” he demands. “Is it yours or not?”

Without a word, I hand him a sheet of paper. One I’ve had on my person for quite a while. One that Grisha personally prepared.

I watch Vlad’s beady eyes scan the document. When they get to the bottom of the page, I already know what they’ll read:

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