Page 50 of Mafia King's Ruthless Obsession

“What the fuck is she doing here?”

The “she” needs no clarification. Only one woman lives rent-free in Igor’s head with that much venom.

My jaw tightens, but I keep my expression unreadable. “She works here.”

“You’ve lost your goddamn mind.” He slams both fists on my desk, scattering papers like pigeons at a gunshot. “After everything she did to Katya? To us?”

“The Velvet Echo benefits from her experience.”

“Experience?” His voice drops into a seething whisper. “Her experience is destroying everything she touches. Or did you forget what her name means to our family?”

Katya’s bruised face flickers behind my eyes, the memory sharper than I like to admit. But this—this fury in Igor’s voice—it isn’t loyalty. It’s control slipping through his fingers. And that makes him dangerous.

“This isn’t about Galina,” I say quietly, stepping around my desk. “This is about you. About the fact that I’ve taken your broken kingdom and started reforging it into something stronger. Something you don’t get to oversee.”

His eyes narrow. “You think I care who’s in your bed?”

“No.” I pause. “But you care that you can’t touch her. You care that the daughter of Boris Olenko is standing in the middle ofmyclub. And there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

“You arrogant fuck.” He yanks at his tie like it’s choking him. “You think she’s here for the business? She’s here to take everything back. You’re just the fool letting her do it.”

“Until I say otherwise,” I say evenly, “she stays. She’s earned her place.”

He laughs, brittle and mean. “Right. ‘Earned.’ That what we’re calling it now?”

I take another step closer, letting the full weight of my presence pin him in place. “Careful, Igor.”

“You’re screwing her. And now you’re letting her get close to the heart of the operation. You want my opinion?” He leans in. “Put her face to work. Use her to clean up the front-end. Let her be the pretty mask for what this place really is.”

“Say that again,” I whisper, voice turning lethal.

“You’re letting your dick make decisions,” he growls. “And it’s going to cost you.”

“This ismykingdom.” I stare him down, ice sliding through my veins. “My rules. My people.”

“Your people?” He sneers. “You actually think she’s one of yours?”

“I trust what I see. And what I see is potential. What I don’t see,” I add, low and deliberate, “is any place for you to question me. You gave me this club as payment. Now step the fuck aside.”

His lips curl into something between a threat and a warning. “Dig your grave, Volkov. When she burns it all down, don’t come crying to me.”

“Maybe she will.” I retake my seat, settling into my chair like a king taking his throne. “But if this place goes up in flames, Igor, I’ll be the one holding the match.”

He stands there for a beat too long, like he wants to say something else. But he doesn’t. He just clenches the door handle like he could tear it off and storms out, leaving behind a silence that feels like fallout.

The door slams.

I stare at the scattered mess on my desk, still vibrating with the aftershocks. Igor’s wrong about a lot, but not about the risk.

Keeping Galina close is dangerous.

But not because she might burn me.

Because I might let her.

And in our world, love is the deadliest weakness of all.

“Jaromir.” My voice cuts through the intercom.

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