Page 35 of The Russian Retribution

“Shame.” I smirk, stroking over his beard-covered jaw with the back of my fingers. “Maybe you never will.”

“Because we won’t talk about this either?” he asks, leaning back and searching my eyes.

I smirk. “Isn’t it more exciting when it’s a secret?”

13

ERIK

“Get out of my way!” Viktor’s yell carries across the driveway. I glance out the window in time to see him shoving Ryan out of his path and climbing into his car.

Where the hell is he going in such a hurry?

I pull out my phone while hurrying down the stairs, but just as I make it to the foyer, I glimpse Anastasia looking unhappy as she strides into her office at the end of the hall. Contacting Viktor takes a backseat, and I hurry after her, nearly getting hit by the door as she slams it behind her.

“Hey!”

“Hmm? Oh.” Anastasia turns to look at me, her face pinched tightly. “Sorry. Didn’t see you. What do you want?” Her words are snipped, like barely-constrained anger is threatening to slip through.

“Where’s Viktor away to in such a mood?”

“He didn’t tell you?” Her eyes narrow and she paces abruptly toward her desk. “Thought you handled all security.”

“I do,” I remark, closing the door behind me. “But the gala is two months away and I’m focused on that. And you. Ryan handles Viktor’s security right now.”

“Ryan?”

“Tall, skinny guy. Glasses.”

She shows no familiarity as she tosses down her phone on the desk.

“Guy who stopped you from going to the hospital.”

“Oh.” She moves to the small open globe that holds an array of drinks and spirits. My concern peaks. I’ve never known her to drink much, but she pours a straight bourbon and drinks it within thirty seconds.

“So,” I say casually. “Care to catch me up?”

“Oh. Right.” Anastasia sighs deeply and pours another drink. “Viktor’s away to meet with the Cartel.”

“What?” Immediately, I’m on edge. Given everything I know about the Cartel, sending Viktor to them doesn’t exactly seem like a wise move in my eyes. Especially since Anastasia’s been icing me out about how she plans to proceed with their presence. Other than keeping her safe, I’ve not been privy to any other details.

“They refuse to deal with me in person and I was going to force it because I don’t give a fuck about them and their sexist fucking views. I’m the Godmother. I’m the one in charge.” She takes a large gulp of her drink.

“Viktor advised against that, huh?”

“Yeah.” Her shoulders lift to her ears as she takes a deep breath and then holds it. When she puffs out her cheeks and breathes, she sounds slightly calmer. “He made some good points and suggested that he go in my stead since they’re already familiar with him through dealings with my father.”

“And that put him in a bad mood because?”

“Because I only agreed to it if he presented my terms and not his own ideas. So he got pissed off.”

“I can imagine. He’s probably familiar with that kind of debt, though, and that familiarity could be useful.”

“Hold on—” She points at me with the hand clasping her glass. “How do you know they’re here about a debt?”

My heart stalls momentarily in my chest and heat prickles at the back of my neck. “Viktor mentioned it,” I say quickly. “In passing. He was venting.”

Her eyes narrow, then she nods and seems to accept my reasoning. The last thing I need is for her to know I’ve been going through her stuff behind her back.

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