Page 9 of Between Us

Roman quickly read the article detailing the crime scene. The dead body had been decapitated before being disposed of in the river, but that wasn’t the most interesting part. “No fingers,” he read aloud before looking up to meet his brother’s gaze. “It’s going to take a while to identify him.”

Alek nodded. “You think it was the Italians? They found the body right at the border between our territory and theirs.”

“Doesn’t look like them. Their method of execution has a bit more finesse than this.”

“Who, then?”

Roman tossed the paper on the table. “Could have been anyone who’s watched too many crime documentaries.”

Alek leaned back in his chair. “Hmm. I just find the placement of the body weird—like it’s a statement or something.”

Roman stopped a waitress that was passing by to ask for coffee before turning back to his brother. “You’re reading too much into it.”

“Maybe. Anyway, there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

“What?”

This time, Alek had the decency to look embarrassed. “I need some money.”

Roman felt his earlier irritation return tenfold. His younger brother didn’t come to him often with such requests, but when he did, it was usually because he’d fucked up somehow. “What did you do?”

“I lost ten grand at poker a few nights ago.”

“Jesus Christ, Alek. How many times do I have to tell you that you’re bad at the game?”

Alek sighed. “I know, but I’d had a couple of drinks and Nikolai convinced me to play with him and a few other guys. Normally, I wouldn’t ask you for ten grand, but I invested most of my money in a side business, and now I’m running low on cash.”

“Ten grand, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine. I’ll have it transferred to you by the end of the day.”

“Thanks,brat.”

“Don’t mention it,” Roman muttered, refraining from giving his brother a lecture. He was a good kidmost of the time, so he was going to let this one slide. Besides, at twenty-two, Roman had done his fair share of stupid shit, so he couldn’t exactly hold it against Alek.

The waitress delivered his coffee, and he accepted it with a “thank you” before switching the conversation to Bratva-related business.

???

The tailor focused on taking Roman's measurements, jotting them down in a thick notebook lying on his makeshift desk—a vintage, ornate table made of brass.

In order to pass the time, Roman scrolled through his e-mails, using the opportunity to reply to those that needed his immediate attention. There was one from their family lawyer, and he opened it, hoping to find good news.

Because he was getting married, he'd finally made the decision to buy a house. The marriage was a sham, sure, but he liked his space, and his apartment was fit for a bachelor, not a family. Daughter of an enemy or not, he knew Vitaly expected Alessandra to give him grandchildren in the near future, so the house was a wise purchase. Roman found one he liked in under two weeks, and had passed on the task of handling the documentation to someone with a better eye for legal details.

As expected, he found a short note from Leonid, informing him that the necessary documents had been drafted and agreed upon by both parties. All he had to do was read them and then meet up with the real estate agent to sign them in person.

“All done,” the tailor announced, taking a few stepsback to give him his space.

Roman nodded in acknowledgement, grabbing his suit jacket from the back of a chair and shrugging it on. The older man made another appointment for a final fitting the following week, and with that, Roman put any thought of the wedding at the back of his mind. He had more pressing matters to attend to.

By the time he was back in his car, it was a little past ten in the morning. His phone rang, and he wasn't surprised to see that it was Oleg calling.

“Meeting atBeluga1in half an hour,” his father's man announced as soon as Roman picked up.

“I'll be there,” he confirmed, fastening his seatbelt.

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