Page 62 of Thorns of Desire
“Shipment?” I inquired, knowing full well that we only stayed in contact to keep an eye on him and Soren. Keep your friends close but your enemies closer and all that.
“There seems to be an issue with it.”
I pinched my nose. “I’m surprised. The man is usually annoyingly efficient.”
“Are you in a bad mood again?” he teased, and I shot him a warning look. “You’ll be getting your bride soon, so that should make you happy.”
I turned my head, narrowing my eyes on him. “Are you aiming to be on my shit list?”
“Always,zio mio. I never imagined it would be so much fun. Payback is a bitch.” Indeed it was. “Anyhow, back to the shipment. Want me to handle it?”
I was so tense it would have probably been smarter to let Enrico handle it, but I needed to blow off some steam.
“I’ll do it,” I told him. “Are we going to continue buying shit from Danil Popov?”
He shrugged. “I want to feel him out for a bit longer.”
I scoffed. “Your wife won’t appreciate your hands on anyone else.”
He chuckled. “Isla will never have to worry about that.”
Neither of us believed in cheating. Otherwise, what was the point of getting married? I froze, the question generating an answer I never thought I’d considered.
I returned my attention to Athena, squeezing the glass in my hand. She was standing at a tall round table, Phoenix Romero and Tatiana Nikolaev on her right, Isla and Raven on her left.
Tatiana’s husband was a few paces behind her, watching over the crowd and talking to Boris, one of his men. She flicked him a glance every so often until she finally walked over to him, wrapping her hands around his neck and smiling as he whispered something in her ear.
I shook my head.
Now I’d seen it all. Illias Konstantin whispering sweet nothings to his wife.
A waiter came up to Athena, smiling widely, and offered her a drink. My grip on the glass in my hand tightened. Raven and Isla giggled. Athena flashed him a reserved smile and the waiter said something, and I watched as she followed his gaze to Cesar. The waiter walked away while Athena stared at Cesar with a gaping mouth, her cheeks crimson even under the dim light of the venue.
Then Cesar raised his own glass, saluting her.
Did that little shit dare send my woman a drink? The glass in my hand cracked and I saw red. Yeah, if I didn’t get out of here and handle this Popov shit, I was going to burst with tension.
TWENTY-FOUR
MANUEL
Iparked my G-Class Mercedes Benz and walked inside the warehouse where our men were unloading the crates.
Danil Popov was leaning against the wall, one foot propped against the wall as he typed on his phone. Two of his men stood next to him, the infamous Soren with the gruesome scar slashed across his face being one of them, while the other stood near the crates, arguing with Umbrio, my right-hand man, and one of his helpers.
I tilted my chin toward the crates left on the truck. “What happened with the shipment?”
“One of my men fucked up,” Danil said, meeting my gaze. “Don’t worry, he’s dead.”
“Hopefully not his first fuckup.”
The dry look he gave me told me that Danil didn’t give second chances.
“Do you extend the same treatment to family members who fuck up?” I asked dryly.
“Sometimes.”
In Italian families, business was important, but family was even more so. I didn’t think Danil stuck to the same code. It was a good insight into the Popov family.
