Page 72 of Savage Reign

TWENTY-SIX

NIKOLAI

The bass thumpsthrough the private room of Red Cardinal, a deep, pulsing beat that rattles my bones. Strip clubs aren’t my thing, and this one’s no different, even with its marble floors, brass accents, and velvet couches adding an air of sophistication.

Tural Hasanov, head of an Azerbaijani cartel, sits across from me, his massive frame dwarfing the leather booth. The crystal tumbler in his hand looks absurdly small against his bear-paw hands. A half-naked dancer grinds in his lap while his men fan out behind him in designer suits, their slicked-back hair and gold watches a mobster cliché if there ever was one.

I don’t need that show of force. I glance at Eva, relaxed by my side. Together, we’re more than capable of taking down the room and have done so before.

Our arrangement with the Azerbaijanis has always been simple: they guarantee safe passage for my weapons shipments from Russia through their territory en route to Turkey, and I pay them generously for the service

Today’s supposed to be our quarterly meeting, but the number of men Tural brought makes it obvious he’s got something else on his mind. Still, he’s spent the last half hour downing vodka and letting a stripper bounce in his lap instead of getting to the point.

Annoyance burns through me and I push the vodka bottle out of his reach and lean forward.

“I have a one-off arms shipment from Nigeria arriving at the port next week. Can you make sure authorities are busy with other shit that day?”

“So quick to talk business, Nikolai.” Tural laughs and cups the obscenely fake tits of the stripper sitting on his thighs. She looks about as turned on as she would during a gynecological exam. “We’re at a fucking strip club. You can have any woman in here or all of them at the same time. Business can wait until we’ve had some fun.”

The look he gives Eva suggests he wouldn’t mind taking a turn with her too, and I have to flick a look her way so she doesn’t gut him right here. Not that I’d blame her.

Fun? Having a woman fuck me because it’s her job is not my idea of fun. None of these women do it for me with their fake tits, puffy lips, and bored expressions.

The only woman who gets me hard is the one living under my roof, haunting my dreams, and fucking with my head.

I glance at my watch, letting my irritation bleed into my voice. “My jet’s fueled and waiting. If you’ve got something to say, say it. I don’t have time for this bullshit.”

Tural’s smirk deepens as the stripper disappears under the table. “What’s the rush? Missing that new wife of yours already?”

My back stiffens. How does he know about Sofiya? I didn’t announce it in the New York Times. I try to keep my tone casual. “Ah, I see word has spread.”

His eyes roll back as the stripper’s head bobs in his lap, and Eva doesn’t bother hiding her look of disgust. “You know how it is. People talk. It’s a big deal that the untouchable Nikolai Zhukov has taken a bride, especially one stolen from the Syndicate. Tell me, how long were you going to keep her a secret?”

“She’s not a secret, just insignificant. A pawn. She’s useful for one purpose, and when that’s done, so is she.” I keep my tone icy. I want everyone to believe Sofiya means nothing to me. Friend or foe, as soon as people discover something that makes me vulnerable, they exploit it.

But I’m starting to fear she truly is my weakness. Three days away from the estate, and she’s constantly on my mind, consuming every thought. I haven’t allowed myself to ask Emil for updates or check the cameras; the last thing I need is to fuel this obsession any further.

Tural regards me through a half-lidded gaze. “I hear your wife is a nice piece of ass. I hope you have had her on her knees sucking and fucking your cock every night.”

My jaw tightens, and I exchange a look with Eva. I’m tempted to take out my gun and put a bullet in his head for how he’s talking about Sofiya. More than that, I’m pissed that a scumbag like him even knows she exists.

My patience is wearing thin, unraveling further when he releases an aroused grunt and bucks his hips, thanks to the woman servicing him.

My hand slams onto the table, making the glasses clink together. “Enough. I don’t have time for this bullshit, and I’m not looking for advice. You called me here for a reason, and I assume it’s not so I can watch you get your dick sucked. What the fuck do you want?”

His guards come to attention, reaching for their pistols, but a single hard look from Eva has them freezing in place. They may not respect women, but they know that Eva is a trained killer. Tural reaches under the table and pushes the stripper away. I take a sip of my whiskey, the smooth burn a welcome distraction as she scurries off, looking for another rich asshole to service.

Tural zips up his pants and downs the rest of his drink. “The Turkish arms market is booming. Your military-grade weapons fetch triple what they did last year, yet my cut stays the same.” He licks his lips. “Forty percent. That’s my new rate for passage.”

I’ve known this man for years; one of the first alliances I forged after taking power back from my brother. And in all this time, we’ve had a good working relationship. Trust is a dangerous thing in this business, and while I don’t trust him more than I trust anyone else, I respect his ability to do his job. Still, I don’t like being threatened.

I set my glass down, keeping my face blank. “I didn’t realize we were renegotiating tonight. I’d think you’d want to save that for when you’re sober.”

He snorts. “I’m sober enough. You’re clearing half a million per shipment while my men handle the borders, ensure security, and run the warehouses. I think it’s only fair that I get a bigger slice of the pie.”

I let the silence stretch, swirling the amber liquid in my glass as if I had all the time in the world. “Your risks are already factored in. Twenty percent is more than fair. But—” I glance at him, letting the tension build. “—since our arrangement has been mutually beneficial, I’ll offer you a small increase. Consider it a show of goodwill.”

I’m not feeling particularly generous toward him at the moment, but I’d rather not change up my arms operations right now. Setting up the casinos will take time, effort, and focus in the coming months. For now, keeping the status quo is worth swallowing a little irritation. That doesn’t mean this bastard deserves another penny for what’s essentially a glorified babysitting gig.

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