The Smiths own an empire, and this is their crown jewel.
At least here in the States. Their eldest brother has the vast English real estate that goes along with the title of duke.
My driver stops, and I open my door, climbing out of the car.Making my way up the stairs, a uniformed woman opens the door, showing me, not up the stairs, but toward the back of the house.
We move into a well-appointed kitchen where several Smith and Kincaid men gather around an island.
“Mister Ivanov is here,” she calls to the assembled group.
“Thank you, Mrs. Raith,” Triston answers stepping away from the group and toward me, reaching out a hand to shake mine before he gestures for me to join the others.
I do, and looking down at the counter, note a large tray of nachos in the center of the island. Gris Smith, Triston’s twin, grabs a stack of cheese and chips, taking a giant bite of one and then washes it down with a beer.
If this more casual environment was meant to relax me, it’s working.
I’ve been to a few executions, and I’ve never once seen nachos served.
“Glad to have you here,” Gris says after he swallows, “We’re still waiting on my brother-in-law, Mason.”
“Probably tucking in Charlotte,” Killian says as he helps himself to a large chip loaded with guacamole. “I didn’t think he could get crazier about that woman, but it turns out now that she’s pregnant, his obsession has notched up another level.”
Triston gives me a side glance, which likely means he doesn’t trust me and is worried that information will be used against Mason. “Wait until the baby comes,” I answer, matching the casual attitude of my companions. “He’s going to reach new levels of protective.”
Everyone stares at me. “Is that why you bombed the Kincaids’ club? Protection for your child?” Jake Kincaid asks, holding a nacho in midair as he waits for my response.
Jake is older than the others, an uncle to Mason, Leo, and Roman Kincaid. Like me, he’s got a bit of gray at the temples, though he married a younger woman who is even more connected to the Vegas underworld than he is.
I breathe in deeply and blow the air out my nose. I’d hoped to wait for Mason before I launched into this part of the conversation. “That’sthe first bullet point on my agenda. Because the truth is, I was responsible for neither that bombing of your nightclub, nor the shooting at Killian’s apartment.”
Silence meets my words, disbelief staring back at me from every set of eyes. Killian cracks his tattooed knuckles. “You’re telling me that you had nothing to do with those attacks? When you took responsibility already? Makes it hard to believe you.”
I twist my neck, cracking one of the vertebrae. Killian isn’t wrong. Stepping up to the counter, I reach onto the tray and grab a loaded chip, popping it into my mouth.
Nachos aren’t really my thing, but it’s good.
I chew, buying time, making them wait, before I answer. “Most of you know I am one hand in a much larger operation.” I grab a beer and crack it open.
Behind me I hear footsteps. I turn to see Mason Kincaid enter. He is not the largest, or most muscled man around this island, but every line in his body speaks of power.
I take a slow sip of the beer. “Mason.”
“Dimitri.” He stops at my side. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. I know you’re far more than just a hand.”
The business I’ve been able to cut my father out of, the kink clubs, run with efficiency and safety. I don’t claim to be a pinnacle of morality, but I keep the people in my employ safe.
My father has very different practices. “I came to Vegas ten years ago to purchase the first casino, the one I sold to the Smiths. The money I used to buy that place, however, was not my own but my father’s.”
I look around the circle. “In exchange, I bought out his share of the whorehouses, turned them into legal clubs, and cut out the human trafficking because…” It’s completely fucking filthy.
“The problem is that many, within my own organization, like my methods better than my father’s, and I have been rising in the ranks, getting increasing supporters both personally and financially. With that money, I’ve been expanding, and I’ve become a threat.”
“To your father?” Mason asks, his brows up as he stares at me.
I grimace. I don’t even know how to describe my father. There is no love there, except for himself. What he feels for us is only about power and malice. “I tried to make three of the four casinos legitimate. I’ve bought two of them myself. But the more I act on my own, the more control I take…”
“The more he interferes,” Triston says, his wince not of disbelief but of resignation.
I nod.