Page 125 of Dirty Grovel

I want to throw my head back and cackle. This asshole really thinks he can intimidate me on my own turf? The fucker has balls bigger than his ego.

He’s the oldest of the three Martinek brothers, which typically would mean that he would be next in line to inherit his father’s Bratva.

But Vladimir Martinek was a mean-spirited, bullying bastard of apakhanwho ruled through fear and threats. It has long been public knowledge that Matvey wouldn’t simply inherit the crown simply because he was the oldest.

He would have to earn the right.

That served Vladimir’s purpose perfectly. It made his younger two sons ruthless and conniving and his oldest son bitter.

“Don’t make me kick you out before you’ve had a chance to say what you’ve come here to say, Matvey. I could use a good laugh.”

Then I turn and saunter into my office, forcing Matvey to swallow his retort and follow me.

I pour myself a whiskey, pointedly ignoring Matvey, before taking a seat at my desk.

He stays standing, feet spread wide like we’re on a rocking boat, trying to intimidate me by dominating the space.

I stuff down the urge to yawn. Instead, I take a sip of my whiskey.

“I have work to do, Matvey, so if you wouldn’t mind getting on with it…”

“The body,” he growls. “The body you left on our father’s doorstep.”

“You’re going to have to finish your sentences, my friend.”

With a flick of his gorilla-like arm, he shoves off the simple glass statuette I’d been awarded from some chamber of commerce or another several years before.

It clatters to the floor, cracking without shattering.

I sigh. “If you keep behaving like a five-year-old, I’m going to have to send you to your room without supper.”

“You fucking?—”

“Yes, I sent you a body,” I cut him off at the pass. I’m gonna have to take control over the situation if Frankenstein’s monster here can’t marshal his powers of concentration long enough to stick to the topic. “It was my answer to the threat you made against me and my family.”

Matvey’s eyes narrow. “You’re referring to the attack against your uncle?”

“Boy, did you get there fast!” I pretend to applaud. “It’s almost like you’re well-informed.”

His glare turns to a smug sneer. “Don’t even try it, Pavlov. We both know who’s really responsible for the attack on your uncle.”

“Enlighten me.”

“You’re the only one who stands to gain from offing the old man,” Matvey says. “Two plus two is four.”

“And you do math, too! Bravo, Matvey. You’ve clearly been studying hard.”

He sneers again and spits on my rug. “The facts are the facts, Oleg.”

“I sense a list is forthcoming. Don’t keep us waiting.”

“You haven’t visited your uncle in the hospital even once!” he harrumphs with disappointing predictability. “With him out of the way, you can usurp him and take the company. Not to mention you can fund and distribute the surveillance system thatyouhave been hawking for months now, despite your company’s distaste for it.”

I grin again. “Again, I’m impressed by your depth of knowledge. It’s almost like you learned how to read a newspaper since the last time we spoke.”

He doesn’t take the bait this time. “You don’t care about your Bratva or your business. The only thing you care about is lining your own bank account.”

I tut him with a wagging finger. “Now, you’re just projecting, Matvey.”

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