Page 60 of Kings of Cruelty

We head over to the suit store, and it’s one of those places where the prices aren’t listed and you need an appointment—which my father already has, somehow.

“When you’re done with me, maybe you can get my good-for-nothing son something decent too,” my father says to the clerk.

I grit my teeth against the irony of it all. Last time I’d seen him, he’d been in a ratty shirt and dirty sweats, exhaling cigarette smoke into my face. He’s at least cleaned up, but he’s not any better than I am.

“He’s good for a few things,” Sierra interjects, smiling blandly. “But he hasn’t told me much about you, sir. You immigrated from Russia?”

My father laughs and pats Sierra’s arm. “Of course he hasn’t talked about me. Kolya’s ashamed of his Russian papa. That’s why he barely speaks language, too. Thinks he’s too good for it.”

I glare at the hand touching Sierra’s arm. Now he’s the one trying to get a rise out of me, seeing how much he can get away with before I step in. If I don’t, I’m sure he’ll have plenty to say about how much of a pussy I am for letting him paw at my girlfriend.

Girlfriend.

It still seems so fucking weird.

I realize they’ve continued to talk while I stewed, but I have no idea what they were saying. Probably more smack talk about me, so it might be good I wasn’t paying attention because I’m already getting increasingly pissed off.

The clerk appears with several suits in hand, and ushers my father into the changing room. Sierra sits down on the soft couch for viewers and pulls out her phone.

I lean down and hiss, “What do you think you’re doing?”

Sierra glares at me. “Being sociable. You didn’t mention your father was so…” She trails off.

“So what?” I ask.

Before she can answer, my father appears again, wearing a gray, three-piece suit. I have to do a double-take, because I barely recognize him.

Maybe I can see why my mother fell into his trap.

“That looks excellent on you!” Sierra chirps as she studies him. “Is this for a special occasion?”

My father laughs. “Something like that. An old friend is visiting soon, and if I’m going to show him New Bristol, I have to do it in style.”

Sierra nods along. “Oh, I absolutely agree. My brother always says that there’s no reason not to always look your best.”

Is she talking about Kyran? From what I know of the Winters—well, Cresci—bruiser, he doesn’t seem like the type to say something like that at all. Maybe the older brother, then, the one in jail. Sean?

“There’s always a place for less formal clothes,” I interject, still feeling sullen. It’s like I’m not even here.

Sierra glances toward me. “I guess some people prefer comfort over style.”

My father bursts out laughing. “Another thing that’s wrong with him.”

My cheeks turn hot at the mockery, and I grit my teeth so I don’t snap at him.

My father turns around to show the back of the suit jacket to Sierra. “What do you think, sweetheart?”

“You look very dapper, sir,” Sierra says. “I see where Nikolai got his dashing good looks from.”

She’s still not getting out of this unscathed. When I tell Konstantin she flirted with my father, he’ll surely let me spank her or something. It won’t hurt the baby.

“I got my looks from my mother,” I mutter.

My father catches that and grits his teeth. “If only your mother had cared enough to stick around.”

Sierra clears her throat, looking pointedly at the clerk—who’s trying to pretend he’s not listening to the family drama as it unfolds. “Did you want to get a new suit, too, Nikolai? While we’re here?”

“No,” I say flatly. She gives me a disapproving look, and I add, “We don’t have a lot of time, and it’s fair that I book my own appointment instead of stealing the spotlight from my father.”

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