Page 195 of Cashmere Cruelty

And I’ve already made my choice in the matter.

Vlad is still fuming, but he seems to have calmed down enough to remember his English. “I’m glad to hear that. People may call me old-fashioned, but even I don’t expect a young couple to keep their hands to themselves until marriage. I understand a man has needs.”

And a woman doesn’t?I briefly wonder what it must be like to be married to someone like Vlad. Suddenly, I feel a flash of sympathy for his late wife.

“But a child is another matter entirely,” he continues. “My family’s honor is at stake here.”

“As is mine.”

He offers me his hand. Swallowing back my disgust, I give it a firm, hard shake.

“Which is why the wedding has to be celebrated within the week,” Vlad concludes.

For a second, I’m sure I must have misheard. “The week,” I echo.

“Of course! We want to put this matter behind us as soon as possible. I trust you agree?”

“Yes,” I concede. “But this week won’t work. April’s baby is due.”

Those two words—April’s baby—are enough to turn Vlad’s face back to cherry red. “Fuck thatsuka,” he spits. “Fuck herubljudok.They can disappear for all I ca—AHHH!”

“I thought,” I snarl into his ear, my grip suddenly steel again, “we agreed to be civil.”

“Alright,blyat’, alright!” Vlad hisses out in pain. “But this has gone on long enough, sonny. It’s time you think about yourrealfamily.”

Sonny.I should rip his fingers out just for calling me that. But I force myself to remember the situation—what’s at stake here.

My brother. His family.

“So?” Vlad demands. “Are you a man of honor or not?”

“If you doubt that, then you shouldn’t be in business with me at all,” I growl back.

And then, before my eyes, Vlad’s expression transforms.

“Perhaps not,” he replies with a newfound calm. “Perhaps I should just cut my losses. Withdraw my supportandmy numbers. Then I’ll have to make new friends. Do you want to know what I’ve heard?”

It’s like watching someone rip off a mask. Vlad’s voice grows calmer, his demeanor colder. For once, he looks every bit thepakhanthe streets used to whisper about. The feared Solovyov patriarch, famous for gutting his enemies like pigs, first with his words and then with his knives. It was the reason I sought him out in the first place.

Still, all this time, I never thought I’d see his fangs in person. After age shortened his temper and dulled his mind, every singlepakhanin New York believed that version of Vlad to be gone—myself included.

If I didn’t despise the man, I’d almost have to respect him.

Since I don’t bother answering his question, he answers it himself. “I’ve heard that the feds are in the market for new friends, too,” he says. “I bet they’d be very, very interested in the famous Matvey Groza.”

“Careful,” I warn.

“And you are famous, aren’t you? As CEO andpakhan. It’s not like you’ve gone to great lengths to keep your cover. In fact, you’re the topic of conversation at every table within two miles of the courthouse. State attorneys everywhere are dying to find something that will finally stick.”

“I won’t repeat myself, Vlad.”

“You don’t need to. After all, we’re still friends. Family, really. But if we weren’t, I’m afraid I’d have no other choice.”

I can’t believe my ears: thismudakis threatening me.Me.Plain as day, in my own office, in front of my men.

And yet, as much as I hate to admit it, he’s found the one chink in my armor: Ihaven’tbeen careful with my cover. This city whispers my name like I’m the goddamn boogeyman—every kill, every catch, I made without paying any mind to the tracks I left. I didn’t care about being clean; I just needed to stay a free man long enough to exact my revenge.

I never thought I’d have something to live for afterwards.

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