Page 108 of Merciless Queen

“Get the Vitales on the phonenow.”

nero,

this email’s for your boss. thought you should know how my father got the manpower required to murder zeno’s father.

see attached.

also tell him, this doesn’t change anything. this has nothing to do with him. i don’t care what he does with the information, but it felt wrong to hold onto it.

for her.

vanessa volkov

A quick tapand the email’s off into the abyss.

“That’s honourable,” Anastasia utters from over my shoulder. She dangles a shot glass in front of my face. “Now, if you’re finished working, can youpleasecome dance? It was hard enough getting you here; I didn’t count on you sitting out.”

“Warned you,” I reply, an edge to my tone. I take the shot glass from her without the intention of drinking more after thisone. “Also, my email has nothing to do with honour. It’s the right thing to do.”

“Right,” she drawls, bending over the back of the couch so I can better hear her over the club’s music. “And this isn’t about a connection you felt to your newly found sister or anything. Okay, now come dance.”

While “sister” might be the term I stuck to Serafina when I first met her, it was only a way to rationalize Papa’s role in her creation, and how that links to me. Truth is, blood doesn’t necessarily make family, and she’s merely Zeno’s sister.

Although, going by his messed-up mind, she’s also my sister-in-law.

“You sound like Dimitri. Besides, she’s not my family, not really. Family’s who we choose for ourselves.”

“Aw. Look at you going all sentimental.” Anastasia shoves into my shoulder. “Well, maybe we can march your sentimental ass downstairs to dance. I’ve been deprived of fun since you’ve been back.”

I peer up at her, her blonde curls inches from my face. “I’m here when I have zero interest in being. Isn’t that enough?”

She scans the VIP balcony, her lips pulling into a smirk. “Got it. Makes complete sense.”

“What does?”

“How’s your divorce coming?”

Heat creeps over my cheeks and it has nothing to do with the balmy temperature of the club. “It’s coming.”

It’s not coming. The Bratva keeps a small team of highly skilled lawyers on retainer in case we’re ever on the wrong side of the law. Especially since international forces have greater powers to hold us to crimes. Some-fucking-how a simple marriage certificate has them stumped. I’m nearly ready to fire them all and find people who can actually help.

Their legal battle kicked off by Zeno’s lawyers bringing a new game to the table. A contract which Zeno conveniently hid away, also with my feigned signature in which I agree to signing away all Bratva-owned businesses to him, should I file for divorce.

Essentially, my hands are tied because the assholeknewI’d never consider allowing his filthy grasp onto everything I’ve worked for. For the businesses run by the Bratva for decades upon decades.

My lawyers have made getting me out of that seemingly iron-clad contract their priority, and divorce secondary.

Anastasia’s probing gaze drills into my face until the annoying prickle has me nearly exploding. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. Just wondering if all this hesitation is because of your husband.”

“He’s not my husband.” I stand from the couch, brushing my hands down my jeans and walk away from the sitting area, only to make my point clearer to her. Even though I don’t really know what that point is. “He’s an unwanted pest.”

She trails me toward the balcony I once leaned against, studying down below, right before spottinghimwatching me. The memory brings a flash of irritation that tenses my shoulders, along with the reminder that everything about that fateful night was a giant setup.

“You like him.”

My barking laugh cuts my thoughts off as my arms settle on the railing. “You must be drunk already.Like him?I barely tolerate the asshole.”

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