Page 37 of Driftwood Daffodil 2

I stopped and rolled my gaze his way. “Yeah. So what?”

He sat back, trying to look casual, but I could sense him sizing me up. “Your father didn’t mention that you’d be here.”

That’s because he doesn’t know I exist.

“And yet, here I am.”

“So it would appear.”

He stared at me.

I stared at him.

“How is your father?”

Other than being a lying asshole?“He’s fine.”

“Have a seat.” He kicked one of the chairs at his table out. “Join us for a drink. We’d love to hear what the son of Cesare Mancini has to say.”

My father’s name was spat out of his mouth as if it was a curse.

I wasn’t sure if I should take that as a threat or not. So I folded my arms across my chest, and took a second to eye his men.

They didn’t look so tough. Other than a couple of names, I didn’t know much about the Bratva. But Nikolai had a reputation for not liking Italians. Apparently, so did the men seated at the table. All three of them were staring at me with tense jaws.

“I’ll pass.”

My rejection didn’t exactly help relax the environment.

His men squared their shoulders while Nikolai growled, “I insist.”

These intimidation tactics weren’t going to work on me. I was the son of the Boss. This was my town.

“Insist all you want you, Russian fuck.”

The room Instantly quieted while a few of my father’s men started to slowly inch their way over. Tension rolled through the air as Nikolai’s jaw ticked. For years we’d been on the verge of war, but right now, it was one flick away. One wrong move on either side and that match would be lit. All I could hear in that moment was my father’s voice.

‘He’s not ready.’

The only thing I was doing, was proving him right.

Sighing internally, I tipped my chin at the girl dancing no less than two feet away. “You enjoying the show?”

Not a single one of the Russians so much as looked her way, which told me they weren’t here for the entertainment.

And what was Nikolai’s response? “Italian women have too many curves.”

Pretty sure she wasn’t Italian, but whatever.

“Well, I’m sure there’s a Russian woman somewhere in the back. I hear they have great stamina.”

It was a dig that only someone who’d been on the other side of that purple door would understand. There was only one thing the women in that room did, and Nikolai’s displeased tongue click told me he’d been back there.

Despite the friction in the air, I couldn’t help but add, “Don’t you have a daughter?”

That got under his skin. Nikolai’s nostrils flared as he waved his hand dismissively. “Run along boy. You bore me.”

No, I pissed him off, but he wasn’t dumb. This wasn’t Bratva territory, and he was highly outnumbered.

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