“For the record, being discreet and being manipulative are very different things.”
He scoffs. “Still doesn’t feel right.”
“Doesn’t have to. It’s kept me kicking so far, hasn’t it?”
“I guess I can’t argue with the results.” He shrugs, looking more relaxed than he has in weeks.
“By the way,” I say as I lean against the wall. Now that I know he isn’t going to try to have me killed, I might as well have a little fun with him. “Did you lose a fight with a street cat? Or were you mauled by a different type of beast?”
His hand goes to the back of his neck, covering the red scrapes that peek out over the edge of his collar.
“Fuck off, Andrei.”
I smirk into my glass, trying not to chuckle.
Alexei’s normally so composed and put together that whenever there’s a single thread of his appearance out of place, it throws him off.
“I’ll tell her to put away the claws next time,” he mutters.
I take a sip of my drink to drown the huff of laughter, trying not to draw any attention to myself.
No one’s looked at me twice today, and if it stays that way, I’ll be able to leave happy.
I don’t know exactly what Blair’s been rubbing on the scratches on my face. It smells like honey, and she says that it helps small wounds heal faster. To be fair, it seems to have worked. Between the ointment and growing out my facial hair, the remains of Maksim’s attempts to defend himself are difficult to see.
Then again, most people tend to be so caught up in their own heads that they don’t notice much about anyone else in the first place. Not even men who should know how to be observant. If it doesn’t affect them, they dismiss it without a second thought.
Every man here is too busy looking over their own shoulder to see the red flags that are practically dancing in a conga line down the center of the room.
They don’t notice that all the older men have gathered around Nikita, quietly arranging themselves around the man they assume will lead. They don’t notice that most of the other men are scattered, watching warily as the booze flows freely.They don’t notice that the thin threads that have tied us all together are fraying at both ends.
It’s only a matter of time before it all comes to a breaking point, and only those who can keep their heads up will manage to dodge the shrapnel.
“Gentlemen,” Nikita drawls, bringing all eyes to him. He pauses as if to savor his time in the spotlight. I hold back an eye roll, while Alexei is as stiff as a board. His shoulders are drawn back, fists held tight.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was looking for a fight.
“How about we deal with those Italians?”
Epilogue 1
Andrei
The radio drones quietly in the background while I drive, allowing the sun to warm my face. It’s unseasonably warm today, so I’m far from surprised when I pull into the driveway and see Niko running around the front yard, laughing as he kicks a ball and chases after it.
What Iamsurprised to see is Blair standing in the open doorway wearing one of my old sweatshirts over a pair of leggings, paintbrush in hand.
I lock the car as she smiles at me, and only then do I see a bucket of paint and a tray at her feet. She cracks open the lid and takes her time stirring the contents before she pours it out, revealing bright yellow paint that makes me pause in my steps.
When she said she was going to look at paint colors for the front door, I figured she’d take her time before she settled on one.
And I thought she’d settle on something more muted. A nice blue. A soft green. Or maybe a bold red, even. Not theobnoxious ray of sunshine that she’s currently loading her brush with.
Forcing my feet back into motion, I stop at the bottom of the stairs, while she beams at me. “Do you like it?”
A hundred answers fly through my head, and none of them are flattering.
“It’s very… cheerful,” I settle on, shoving away all my protests and disparaging thoughts. “It looks like springtime.”
