Page 150 of Gilded Cage (Kovalyov Bratva 1)

“He’s been trying to find leads on who launched the attack,” Cillian tells me.

I grunt. It strikes me that Budimir and I will be working together a lot more going forward. He has decades under his belt working alongside my father, and now he will serve me.

My whole life, I’ve never spent much time thinking about the pecking order. I always thought my stubborn father would outlive us all.

“I’ll call him soon,” I tell Cillian. “I want him to brief you, too.”

Cillian narrows his eyes at me.

“What?”

“I hope you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

“What am I thinking?” I ask.

“Budimir is your second, Artem,” Cillian tells me. “I can’t be.”

“I’m the fucking don now—"

“And what? You think that makes you invincible? You think that means you can do anything you want?” Cillian hisses. “You are one man, Artem, and there will be those that are loyal to you. But there will be as many, if not more, who are loyal to your uncle. Alienating Budimir by putting me above him will not ingratiate you to the men who have sworn fealty to him. It’s a bad idea.”

Cillian’s right about everything, but I still feel a twist of anger when I think about the fucking politics of being don.

I’ll have to exercise qualities that I’m not even sure I possess. Diplomacy was never one of my strengths.

“Budimir is an old man now,” I point out.

“Exactly, which means he has decades on you,” Cillian retorts. “Decades building contacts and strengthening alliances. You need your uncle and he’s been working for you this entire time. Don’t insult him by turning to me before you turn to him.”

I nod, unable to deny the wisdom of his words.

“In any case, the Bratva will never accept an Irish outcast into the fray.”

I frown. “They’ve done that for years,” I point out.

“Sure, when I was merely your well-meaning sidekick,” Cillian says, with his trademark smile, though his eyes are sad. “They’re going to be less accepting if I’m advising the Bratva in a leadership position.”

“Fine,” I growl. “I see your point.”

“Happy to be your voice of reason.”

“And as always, the pain in my ass, too.”

Cillian chuckles and glances at Esme with a sigh.

“She really will be all right, Artem,” he tells me.

I badly need to hear that, but I still have trouble believing. The way she looked at me in that safehouse hallway still haunts me.

“I’ll leave you two be.” He steps back around her bed and exits the room, clapping me on the shoulder as he goes.

A moment later, the door opens and Dr. Sussman walks in. He’s a short, fat man with a bald patch and grey whiskers. His looks don’t inspire confidence, but I’ve seen firsthand what he’s capable of.

“Evening, sir,” he says with a cool, detached tone. “I’ve been briefed on everything. I’ll just do a small examination now and let you know where we stand.”

I nod and place Esme’s hand back against her stomach. My gaze lingers on her face for a moment before I walk around her bed.

“You can stay for the examination,” Sussman tells me.

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