Page 88 of Lies He Told Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 1)

Before, I thought I was pissed. Now, I am truly pissed. I stride out of the hallway, back into the main room. I want to break something. Or someone.

No more wasting time. No more bullshit. It’s time for me to do what I came here to do.

* * *

The next hour passes in a blur. I say what needs to be said. Do what needs to be done. Make promises and deals, and smile, and smile, and smile. Whenever the urge to punch something grows too strong, I take another drink.

This is why I need to become mayor. More power means less deal-making. Less deal-making means less dealing with people’s bullshit.

Or maybe it’s the other way around. All I know is that I am tired of incompetence, both others’ and my own. It’s time for me to do what I said I was going to do: win. Become mayor. Run this fucking city the way it ought to be run.

Joy, whenever I make the mistake of glancing her way, is doing beautifully. She’s all smiles, laughter, light touches. Charming away the wives and donors, gathering a cloud of admirers.

One time when I glance over, though, there’s someone else.

That fucking bastard.

I storm over there just in time to see Richard Walsh lay his slimy paw on her.

“Ah, here comes your husband,” Walsh murmurs. He smiles. It doesn’t reach his dead blue eyes. His hand on her shoulder drops.

“Walsh,” I grit out by way of greeting.

Joy’s mouth widens open, all mirth disappearing. I put my arm around her so that I won’t punch him in the face. So that he gets the message:Don’t even think about it.I could slit his throat for how he’s looking at her alone.

“You should find your wife, Walsh.” My gaze cuts into him.

He doesn’t respond, only smiles that same slimy smile.

We both know the truth—Mrs. Walsh is so miserable that she spends every free minute drowning her sorrows at the bar, where she probably is right now.

“I was just curious, Mr. Vaknin, what brought you out on this fine night?” Walsh spreads his suit arms. His crowned skull cuff links glint under the chandelier light. “I assumed you’d be busier on your … projects.” He raises a brow significantly at me.

I stare back. “You can leave now.” It’s a dumb move, being hostile to Walsh in public like this. Even dumber when there are others around. But if Walsh thinks he can come here and talk to my Joy, my wife, however he wants …

“I was just telling her,” Walsh says silkily, “to make sure she knows who she’s dealing with. And that if she ever wants any more information, or a chance with a better man, then …”

“You motherfucker!” I growl, about to lunge for him just as Ludmil appears.

“Gavril, don’t,” my second warns.

Walsh laughs a little. “Really. I only want what’s best for Joy.”

Joy grabs my hand hard and echoes Ludmil. “Gavril, please. Don’t.”

I keep my gaze locked on her. Walsh dared. Hedared. I’ll fucking kill him.

“Not now,” she’s saying to me quietly, firmly. “Not here.”

Walsh waits a few seconds while I breathe in, then out, then in again. Finally, seeing that he won’t get anything out of me, he saunters off, looking pleased with himself. My hands clench together.

One day soon, I will find Walsh when he’s alone. And, when it’s just me and him, I will kill him. A bullet to the head will be too fast. I’ll acquaint my hands with his neck. That will be better.

But first—

“You,” I tell Joy. “With me. Now.” I grab her hand as Ludmil trails us. I stop, whirling around to face him. “I think it’s time you left my wife and I alone.”

Ludmil bows his head, and leaves.

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