Page 101 of Rhet

“Her who?” I’m so not in the mood for this conversation.

“Fine, if you want to play it that way,” Julian says then becomes quiet.

This elevator is either the slowest thing in the world or I’m not in the mood to about talk about Zeeta and that’s slowing everything down. My feelings are conflicted. The elevator squeaks, as we move up.

“I don’t like her, like her, but she has grown on me.”

Damn this jacket feels tight. I tug at it, and it seems to tighten more. When do we get to our floor?

“You don’t like her, like her? Are we in high school? Do you need a box to tick yes or no?”

“I can fire you.”

I will never fire him if I do, she can take his place permanently. Problem solved.

“Yes, I like her, like her.” I admit out loud, Julian chuckles.

I give up the pretense because fuck it. I hold on to the metal handrails in the elevator “Something is bothering me about her though.”

“Is it that or your past history with your ex?” Julian’s gaze is still on the elevator numbers.

“I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it.”

“Want me do an extra background check?” he asks.

Do I want him to go digging? Why? I mean, am I looking for a reason not to like her?

“Yes, check it out for me.” The elevator jerks as the doors open. Two men in dark suits stand at the door waiting for us.

“Boris, Igor. Long time no see. Your hair is still running away from your ugly face.”

Igor smirks. His thin hair is slicked back and tied with a rubber band and well, Boris is bald.

“Kozlov is waiting for you,” Igor says

“We check you for weapons.” Boris states

I nod. Boris pats me down. “Boris, you want to tap my ass, don’t you?”

I hate the way he searches. He gropes everything, I must look a mess now. He takes my Glock and Julian’s revolver.

“You know, I tolerate you because of boss,” Boris says as he finishes checking Julian.

“I’m indifferent to you either way.” I push pass him and open Kozlov’s door.

“Privet,Kozlov,” I say as I stroll into his office.

“Privet,Banner,” Kozlov comes around his desk. He shakes my hand and pats me on the back.

Dimitri Kozlov is the head of the Russian mafia, the bratva or the OPG Organized Criminal Group. He looks nothing like what you’d expect. When I first heard about the feared Kozlov or the Russian Death dealer, I thought of a fat burly man, balding head, short, horrid English accents—smelling of sardines and vodka.

Dimitri was unexpected. What mafia man wears jeans and a gray sweater. No suit.

It’s doesn’t help that he has the face of an angel—blond hair, baby blue eyes, chiseled jaw line, he towers over both me and Julian he could be around six seven.

However, there’s a dangerous aura around him. Like you know he can end you. I have seen him end a man’s life with no regret. If you look closely at his hands, you can see the garish tattoos he most likely received during his time in prison in Russia.

“Sit. You want vodka?” He points to a suite of chairs.

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