Page 51 of Beautiful Scar

That trait runs in the family.

“I went to great personal pains to arrange your marriage,” Aunt Sona says smartly, straightening her pantsuit. She’s got nothing on her either, and I made sure of that. No part of me thinks Arsen was involved, and no part of me trusts Sona enough for her to be above suspicion.

“And I’m sure you’d go through great personal pains to kill her if that’s what you felt was right. Remember how we were at war not that long ago?”

“The war is behind us now,” she says, putting a fist in my face. “And if you keep going on?—”

“If you two don’t stop bickering, I’m going to have you both killed,” Arsen snaps, finally sounding at the end of his patience. “Tigran, I respect your dedication to security. Your wife’s safety is all of our priority,even yours, Sona."He gives her a hard look until she sighs and nods her head. “Now, please, introduce us officially.”

Reluctantly, I lead them upstairs. Several guards lurk nearby, all of them loyal to me personally. That’s the thing with crimefamilies: our employees tend to kill for whoever’s writing the checks. Or in this case, whoever’s handing out the enormous cash payments.

Our family’s similar to the McGrath clan. Where Liam runs their business, Arsen’s our leader and head. Which leaves me in Seamus’s position. I’m our war chief, our killer, our knife. When the family was at war with itself, I was the one out murdering cousins and killing uncles. And afterward, when Arsen brought everyone back together and began to change the structure of the Brotherhood, I was the one to make an example of anyone who complained.

I earned my reputation the hard way. But I’m not stupid enough to think I can do it all alone.

Which is why my personal guards are very well paid, and I go to pains to make sure they know that they can owe their good life to me.

Vito’s waiting outside Dasha’s door. He shakes Arsen’s hand respectfully and gives a quick hug and a cheek kiss to Sona.

“You old dog, you’re still kicking,” Aunt Sona says, smiling at the man and making eyes like she wants to sleep with him right there in the hall. Which is disgusting, since I find her so reprehensible, but also she’s married to someone else.

“It’s good to see you again, Sona. It has been much too long.”

“I’d heard you’d retired, but I didn’t know you worked for this little cretin.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t call him that. And I wouldn’t say I’m retired, either.” Vito beams at her and gestures toward the door. “Now,please, Dasha’s waiting. I just want to warn you both that she’s been nervous about this all day, so take it easy on her.”

Aunt Sona snorts. “Nervous for what? We’re family now.”

“She must know how unpleasant you are,” I say firmly before knocking on the door. Better to get this over with than to linger out here talking all night. Poor Dasha’s probably pacing around, turning this whole meeting into something bigger than it is.

Dasha welcomes everyone into her rooms graciously. She’s in a smart blouse with a pair of gray slacks. Her heels make her a few inches taller, although I prefer it when she’s small. I like my tiny little wife with her braided blonde hair and her little pink nipples.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she says stiffly, shaking Arsen’s hand. “Tigran’s said a lot about you.”

“Has he?” Arsen seems surprised. “Talking shit about me, brother?”

“If speaking the truth is talking shit.”

“You bastard. Whatever he’s saying, believe every word. I’m just as bad, or maybe worse.” Arsen’s got his charm going, and it seems to put Dasha slightly at ease.

I’m starting to think maybe this won’t be so bad, at least until Aunt Sona steps up with that pinched little glare. She’s got the definition ofresting bitch face. The exterior matches the interior, in her case.

“Hello, Dasha, my name is Sona.” She thrusts out her hand like a karate chop.

“Erm, hello.” Dasha takes it. Sona looks like she’s trying to break my wife’s fingers. My jaw works, but Dasha seems fine. “It’s lovely to meet you as well.”

“Let’s sit,” I bark before Sona can say something to piss me off.

We gather on Dasha’s couch. She offers everyone tea, which Sona accepts. As she goes to pour it from a freshly brewed pot—which probably explains why Vito was standing outside her door—Arsen takes a look around.

“You changed the place,” he comments. “I like what you’re doing.”

“Really? You’ve been in here before?”

“Sure, once or twice. Tigran’s taste in decoration is either hotel-lobby chic or like a death dungeon.”

Her eyes widen. “Dungeon?”

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