Page 9 of Beautiful Secrets
Literally.
Dimitri’s already inside, lounging in a leather armchair a few paces from the fire. Two younger men—I’m guessing his sons—stand behind it, framing him.
There’s a big, blond-haired heavy sitting alone on a sofa, and two older men opposite him.
I should probably know all the players in this game, but honestly I was too busy getting coked up and planning world domination to be bothered. Now I wish I’d taken the time, because there’s a tension in the room that was there before we walked in.
“Did you get lost?” Dimitri asks, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he pushes on his thighs to come to a stand.
“Road’s not exactly in peak condition.” I give Tadhg a sidelong glance. The Connollys were the ones holding things up. Tadhg and Paddy decided to come in a black Ferrari with less than an inch of fucking clearance. Soon as we hit the dirt, they slowed down to a crawl.
I was going to give them shit, but then Tadhg said it was Paddy’s idea, and I went right ahead and changed my fucking mind.
Dimitri holds out his hand. I pause, then shake it.
“This is Yuri Barisova,” Dimitri says, holding out a hand to the guy sitting on his arse. I shift a little, expecting him to stand or extend his hand, but he just stares at me like he’s trying to put a hole through my head.
Dimitri turns to the older men opposite Yuri. “His father, Fredek, and uncle, Mikeal.”
Why the fuck is he introducing this kid first? He can’t be a cunt hair over thirty. Granted, I’m only a few years older than him, but Kill and I didn’t exactly have a pappa bear to head up the Hendry Crime Syndicate. It was just the two of us, and we did ourselves proud.
“Barisova,” I repeat, and then flick my fingers in the space between them. “You two not related?”
Dimitri’s face cracks into a grin. “We are now,” he says in his thick accent. “My newest son-in-law.”
I look away just in time to see the boys behind Dimitri’s chair react to this. One grimaces faintly, the other rolls his eyes.
As if Dimitri felt a disturbance in the force, he glances over his shoulder at them. “And these are my boys. Grigori and Marko.”
I point a thumb behind me, not bothering to point out each Connolly individually. “Paddy. Ethan. Tadhg.”
“Tach?” Dimitri butchers the name.
“Tadhg,” I repeat a little slower, using a different inflection for the dumb fuck. Taig
“Taag?” Dimitri tries again, frowning hard.
“Just call him Tommy,” I say, waving my hand. “You said you had business to discuss. We’re here. Let’s discuss.”
I take a seat right next to Yuri, making him bounce from how hard I fall onto the cushion. Yuri keeps his eyes on Dimitri, but there’s a touch of hardness around his mouth now. Guess the boy likes his space. But then they should have put out more fucking chairs.
“Yes, yes,” Dimitri says, sitting back in his seat. He lifts a hand and snaps his fingers, and the eldest of the boys behind him pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lights one.
I’m shocked it’s not a fucking cigar. I light myself a smoke too, ignoring Yuri’s unreadable eyes on me.
The kid’s got some big breeches on him if he thinks he can give me the stink eye. Little shit.
Okay, not little. But still.
“First you will tell me about the asylum.” Soft puffs of smoke pepper Dimitri’s words.
I blink. Give my head a small shake. “Our club? What about it?”
Dimitri lets out a deep belly laugh. It doesn’t sound fake, but it doesn’t sound pleasant either. “The crazy house,” he says, his cigarette trailing smoke as he gestures to the side of his head. “You were gone what, five years?”
My joints lock up, but I force through the stiffness so I can shove my smoke in my mouth and take a drag. When my leg wants to start bouncing, I press my heel into the floor like my life depends on it.
It might, even.
