Velvet Devil: A Russian Mafia Romance (78)

“Convenient,” Maxim snarls, his upper lips curling over his teeth. “For you.”

“It’s a generous offer. And you’re receiving it only because of your last name.”

“All this talk of receiving, when the only thing you do is take, take, take. You took my father’s—”

“Don’t play the fucking fool,” I hiss.

I don’t raise my voice, but the icy tone is enough to shut him up. I take a threatening step forward. I don’t miss the way his hand twitches towards the right side of his coat.

“Your father nearly burned the Bratva to the ground. He wasn’t interested in leading. He had no fucking ambition. The empire our grandfather built was broken apart and sold off like scrap metal. He would have finished us completely if my father hadn’t stepped in. I’m continuing his work. The Vorobev Bratva is mine. And it always will be. So if you’re looking for me to hand over the keys and walk away, then you’re even more fucked in the head than I initially thought.”

He’s silent, still, impassive. His eyes give nothing away.

“I am offering you a chance to preserve what you have,” I tell him. “I’m offering you the chance to live your own life and build your own world—provided you stay out of mine.”

His expression turns hard. “You’re offering me scraps and telling me to be grateful.”

“That’s just fucking it, isn’t it?” I snarl. “I shouldn’t be offering you anything. We are Bratva, Maxim. We don’t wait to be offered. We don’t wait to be given. We take what we want.”

He nods slowly. “Then I will take it. I will take everything you’ve stolen from me.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I say, rolling my eyes. “You are nothing but a spoiled little brat, whining about all the things you didn’t get. Come at me in any way you choose. But remember, you’re going to lose. And I will make it hurt.”

We’re finished here. I’m about to turn away when he speaks, his tone thick with pent-up bitterness.

“Have you fucked her?”

I turn back around slowly. “Excuse me?”

“I asked if you fucked the whore.”

His hands ball into fists. Mine do the same.

And I hear my father’s voice echoing in my head from the distant past. Instinctively, I glance down at my arm. It’s covered now, but I know the exact placement of the scar I received for failing to learn one of his most important lessons.

Never show emotion in the presence of an enemy. Never lose control.

A man who can’t suppress his emotions can be goaded, manipulated, and used.

A man who can’t suppress his emotions can’t read his enemy because he’s too lost in his own head.

It’s not surprising that Maxim and I ended up here today. All we have to do is look at our teachers to understand the legacy that gave us each life.

Maxim had Svetlana.

I had Vitaly Vorobev.

“What’s wrong, Maxim?” I taunt. “Did you fuck it all up? The plan was to make her fall for you. Did you go and make the mistake of falling for her?”

He lifts his eyes to mine. I can see it all there, beneath his black expression. He knows he’s fucked up this meeting. He knows he’s in the weaker position.

“Fall for her?” he sneers. “She was nothing but a mark. A way for me to hurt you.”

“And what purpose did it serve? I have her now. So who’s hurting who?”

“I will get her back,” he vows.

“You just claimed she means nothing to you,” I point out. “Why fight for a woman you don’t give a fuck about?”

“The same reason you stole her from me,” Maxim says vehemently. “She’s a power play. The last move on the board before checkmate. And I plan to win.”

I laugh. “I’m afraid you’ll have to kill me first. Because as long as I’m alive, Cami is mine.”

“So be it.”

He acts almost immediately. But I’ve been anticipating this move since the moment I arrived. As soon as his hand moves to the right side of his jacket, I send my fist flying towards his face.

I whip around him and tighten my arm around his neck as I get a hold of the gun in his jacket.

“He made the first move,” I growl into my wire—just as the thundering of approaching footsteps echoes through the building.

I don’t think those footsteps work for me, either.

But like I said from the very start—it doesn’t matter to me. Isaak Vorobev always wins in the end.

By the time his men burst into the second story, I’ve already got the gun pointed at Maxim’s head. “Any of you fuckers move and I pull the trigger.”

“You’ll do it anyway,” Maxim spits, grinding his nails into my arm.

“I should. But I won’t. Consider this the repayment of a debt, cousin,” I hiss in his ear. “Tell your men to drop their weapons.”

“Fuck you.”

“Don’t fucking test my patience,” I growl, backing towards the staircase behind me.

I don’t need to buy much more time. My reinforcements are already on the way and I’m close enough to the windows to see when they arrive.

I do a quick scan of Maxim’s men and count. “Jesus,” I growl in disgust. “You brought fifteen men. Fucking coward.”