Page 59 of The Payback

“That’s the only part that makes no sense. Oksana has been his wife for thirty years. She’s always toed the line and supported him in everything. I don’t see that being the case.”

I’m already shaking my head, but Dimitri moves on. “There is a way to make this work to our advantage.”

“How?”

“Sergei has been asking me how he can thank you for saving Oksana. He wants to buy you something to show his gratitude. I keep telling him it is unnecessary.”

“And his pride and sense of owing you something aren’t letting it rest?” I guess.

“Yes, it—Would you fucking look at me, Sabre?” Dimitri snaps.

“I am.”

He growls low in his chest. He steps closer, and I wince when his hand meets my face, gently cupping my jaw. “My eyes.”

I inch my gaze up to his nose, catching on a small scar under his eye, but I can’t bring myself to look higher.

“You’re afraid of me.” His thumb strokes my neck as his hand rests there, never forcing me to meet his gaze with the brute force I’ve become used to.

He’s letting me decide instead of taking what he wants, and that modicum of respect has me finally meeting his eyes.

He looks nothing like the man I met at the altar in the cathedral. Instead of the indifference I’d been afraid of, there’s concern. The dark circles under his eyes and the puffy skin below speak to restless nights and discomfort.

“There you are,” he murmurs, his lips barely moving as our gazes tangle.

“I’m not afraid,” I say. “I’m disgusted. Appalled. Repulsed. Conflicted,” I admit, glad Nik left us in the kitchen because he would have a field day withby-the-book Elliehaving an inkling of agreement with the actions of an organised crime boss.

“It is better you learn now, wife, that I am not a soft man. I won’t bend to your will or shield you from the world, whatever it may throw at us. I will hit back twice as hard when something or someone comes for us. It is you and me, my Sabre. You and me.”

“And Nik?” I ask. Dimitri blinks—the only sign that my question surprises him. “I heard you two that day. He said he’s all in. What does that mean? Is he going to know about the... arrangement?” I point my finger between the two of us, trying to encompass everything with a mere gesture.

Dimitri shakes his head. “He isn’t privy to that, and I doubt Interpol would offer him the same deal they’re offering me.” I nod in agreement because Nik has much to answer for if my agency ever gets hold of him. “But he must decide where his loyalty lies—with my uncle or me. And that night was a step in the right direction. I have the footage from that night while you were with the girl, and he could be considered an accomplice.”

“Would he side with Sergei?”

Dimitri tilts his head one way, then the other, as if he’s weighing the options and cracking his neck all at once. “It is up in the air. He has sided with Sergei and my father against me before.”

“When?” I dare to ask.

“Before he left for Interpol.”

These two have so many secrets and grudges between them; I’m surprised there’s a square inch left in the apartment that isn’t consumed by their past. This past hurt that Nik could have killed Dimitri’s father, the loyalty he shows Sergei, Nik and me having history. It’s no wonder suspicion is the daily mood in the penthouse.

An idea takes shape in my head, and the wheels turn at an unprecedented speed. A way to discover Sergei’s intentions while finding out where Nik’s loyalties lie once and for all. “Call Sergei. I know what I want.”

Dimitri rears back with surprise. “What?”

“Better yet, go to your office and wait for me there. I know what I want and how to play this.”

“Do you want to let me in on your little plan?” His gaze turns feral, his hand resting against the column of my throat.

“It’s better if you don’t know. That way your reactions are genuine.” I hold my hand out. “Give me your phone.”

Dimitri plucks it out of his pocket, unlocks it, finds Sergei’s contact information, and hands it over.

I click the button to call him and put the phone up to my ear, waiting for him to answer. Dimitri barely breathes as the call rings, growing tenser with each passing second. I point my finger towards his office, and with a menacing look, he leaves the kitchen, giving me the space I need.

“Pakhan,” Sergei greets.

---