Page 41 of Dark Bratva Christmas
And it takes everything I have not to lose my goddamn mind.Thisis why I never wanted to do business with him—and I’m only here for my brother.
And maybe Catarina.
I shake my head at that. She’s still the bane of my existence. Though I have to admit, once she has the baby,I’llbe the one with the upper hand. The tables will turn.
But eventually, he shows up with his hands casually shoved in his pockets. I stand upright from where I’ve been leaning againstthe rail when I see him. I fold my arms in front of me, glaring at him.
“What news do you have? Obviously, not too important since you couldn’t be here on time.”
“I’ve got intel on the Vitales,” Boris says with a slick smile. He makes a point to look me in the eye the entire time.
“Mauricio? The mutt? You think he’s seriously behind it?” I think back to the interaction I had with him at the Plaza Hotel. “I don’t know about that… Have you had eyes on him?”
Boris pulls his hands out of his pockets, and takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “Mauricio is volatile. He's been raised by the old school gangsters, and if anybody stands in his way, he ends them. He’d be the type to pull off what happened to Mikhail.”
I raise my eyebrows for him to elaborate, but he’s silent, so I have to press. “Continue.”
He eyes me and then pulls out a cigar, lighting it up. “We need to keep tabs on him. We follow him and make sure we know his every move, from the moment he opens his eyes and takes his first piss in the morning to when he closes them shut at night. You have good surveillance teams, don't you?”
“The best,” I grunt. “But I don’t want to put them to use in places they don’t fucking belong.”
“Well, I know what I’m talking about. I know that Mauricio is going to be at the Met tomorrow. Have them wait there and follow him after,” Boris says, as if giving me a command.
Something feels off, but maybe it’s just the hatred for the Petrov family. And that’s all I think about as Boris continues to drone on and on about details. I make notes but do nothing more than that.
When it’s over, I let him walk away before I leave the pier and head to my bike. Before I turn on the engine and drive away, I make a quick call to Ivan, the head of my surveillance team.
“I need you to get eyes on Boris Petrov for a while,” I say, not giving him any explanation as to why. I don't even know if I have a good one. It's just my gut instinct. “I don’t fucking trust him.”
I feel there is something more going on, something that Boris knows but is not sharing with me.
And I have to figure out what that is.
I don’t like feeling two steps behind. It’s not where I belong.
***
It's late in the evening by the time I get home but Catarina’s light is still on in her room. I knock on the door twice before opening it to see her sitting in a chair, curled up under a blanket with a mug of tea beside her and a book in hand.
She looks peaceful, until she looks up and realizes that it’s me. Then her brows furrow, her pleasant look fades, and her lips purse. She hasn’t spoken a single fucking word to me since we left the Christmas market.
I rub the back of my neck, suddenly questioning why I’m even doing this. “Today was—”
“Do we really have to go over this again?” Catarina cuts me off with a sigh, setting her book down on the small table beside her. “We've had this argument since the beginning. I don’t think anything is going to be changing any time soon.”
I raise my brows at her. “What argument?”
“The one where you don't own me,” Catarina snaps, standing up and folding her arms in front of her.
I let out a defeated exhale. “I don't want to fight with you right now. Would you just come out to the living room with me?” I ask, standing in the doorway and holding out a hand for her. I don’t even know what the fuck I’m saying. I just want her to stop shutting me out. It pisses me off… or something.
“It's late.” She shakes her head and takes a step toward the bed, but I don't budge.
“Five minutes. That's all I'm asking,” I say, urging her to comply.
Catarina glares at me, but then her shoulders drop. “Fine.” She walks toward me, intentionally maneuvering away from myhand so I can't guide her to the living room. Instead, she walks ahead of me with her arms still folded in front of her, but when she sees what I have waiting for her in the living room, she drops them to her side.
I drove to a Christmas tree farm nearby and picked out the biggest, most majestic tree I could possibly find on the way home. And thankfully, the estate has high ceilings. It's probably fourteen feet tall.
