Where the Snow Falls (Seasons of Betrayal #2)(57)

Irina was still his mother, after all, and despite his hatred for his father, Kaz loved his mother.

His sisters, Dina and Nika, however, were f*cking thrilled because a wedding meant shopping. He couldn’t even say for sure whether they were happy for him or just glad to be out of the house and happily swiping his damn card. But since they were out with Violet, that would at least give them a chance to talk to her and learn who she was.

He couldn’t ask for more than that.

Kaz, on the other hand, was working on his side of the guest list. There was not enough time to invite everyone—his family was extensive—but he needed at least a dozen key figures in attendance.

There was the Boykov family in Chicago—Konstantin having agreed quite readily and Kolya mumbling an affirmative before he hung up.

Of course, he would also invite the highest-ranking members of the Bratva, and a few others from neighboring states who he hadn’t talked to in ages due to their relationship with Vasily.

By the time he was on his way across town, Kaz had gotten all the answers he wanted … except for one.

Alfie Shelby.

Though he was notorious for playing both sides of the field, never allowing his loyalty to show for any one man, Kaz still considered the man a close friend. But in his newly appointed position, he wasn’t so sure that the way things stood now could go on for much longer.

It was different when Vasily was in the seat—he refused to do business with Alfie because of his neutral stance, but Kaz hadn’t cared. And even now, he still didn’t, but the men who worked under him wouldn’t stand for it, no matter how powerful Alfie was.

“Welcome home, Kazimir,” Alfie said from his position behind his desk. “It’s good to see you, mate.”

“You too, Alfie,” Kaz returned as he clasped the man’s hand in his own before taking a seat.

“I hear congratulations are in order.”

It shouldn’t have surprised him that Alfie knew about the wedding—there was very little that the man didn’t know. Even still, he doubted Violet had shared the news with anyone just yet, and he had only informed a select number of people, none of whom did business with Alfie.

“Who told you?”

Alfie waved his hand in the air as though the answer was insignificant. “A little dove, but that’s not important at the moment, is it? You’re here to discuss business, eh? Let’s discuss.”

“We’ve done good business together,” Kaz said, tapping his fingers against the arm of his seat.

“One-point-two million last quarter because of that arms deal, but who’s counting?”

He didn’t doubt the proceeds were as high as Alfie said—no one could do numbers like him. “And you understand why I can’t have my business tied with those who would try to take it from me.”

“Right, because you’re the—f*cking hell, what’s the name your people call it—pakhan?”

Alfie wasn’t a man who was careful with his words so as not to offend—most of the time he was trying to offend someone—but Kaz had learned it was just that accent of his, Cockney he thought it was called. So he knew better than to let Alfie’s words get to him, but he could already tell by the way the other man was sitting a little straighter that his temper was flaring.

“I am. You know what that means.”

Alfie rubbed his jaw. “I know f*ck all about your politics, mate—and I don’t care to know. Whatever feud you lot have against the other means nothing to me.” Alfie rested an elbow on his desk, pointing at Kaz. “Because while you two f*ck about, money is lost in the process.”

“But as you said,” Kaz spoke up, already feeling that rush of annoyance overtake him. “That has f*ck all to do with you.”

“Yet there you sit, in my f*cking chair like a big man, expecting me to sever business arrangements for the sake of your f*cking vendetta.”

The tension in the room was escalating, to the point that before he knew it, Kaz was on his feet. “There comes a time when you have to pick sides, Alfie.”

“Fuck off,” Alfie returned, slowly rising from his chair, his eyes blazing as he laid his fists against the wood. “Even if I were, who’s to say I’m picking your f*cking side, Kazimir? The only thing your Bratva has shown me over the last year is that you care more about domestic bullshit than how to conduct business. I expected it from that cunt you call a father, but you were supposed to be better than that, yet here you stand.”

“Don’t insult me again. You won’t like how I answer.”

Whether he considered Alfie a friend was immaterial—it was a lesson Kaz had to learn. Respect was earned, not given. And if he wanted to keep it, that meant never letting someone insult him without consequence.

“And what exactly would you do about it? Run off to that f*cking brother of yours, though I think he knows how to better handle a cock before a gun. Or maybe to the f*cking Gallucci you have warming your bed—perhaps she’ll be worth more in name besides what she can do with her mou—”

Kaz had his gun out and pointed at Alfie’s face before he could finish the sentence. “Finish,” he said, his gaze never straying from Alfie. “Give me the opportunity to show you what it truly means to not give a f*ck who you have to kill when it comes to the woman you love. Test me.”