Page 103 of Savage Enemy

So the Russians had sent another emissary, not a decision-maker, nor the second son they’d promised. This man was more likely to spend his pakhan’s money on cheap booze and women, assuming anyone actually made him pay for anything.

All mob bosses—Mafia, Bratva, and the Irish—liked to pretend they weren’t criminals. They might get their hands dirty, but they dressed like white-collar elite with their tailored suits, Italian leather shoes, expensive haircuts, and luxurious colognes. Even the underbosses imitated that level of prestige.

This particular man hadn’t seen a shower, let alone a tailor.

Did Saul realize this was meant as an insult? Marco might pick up on it. More importantly, did it mean the higher price Saul had negotiated would fall through?

Did I even fucking care anymore?

Without even a glance in my direction, Saul gestured at me.

“This is my daughter, Valentina. As I told your boss, we had some trouble with her before, and she has a son—he’s with his father now. She’s more than capable of producing more strong sons. Many good years still left in her.”

I stared straight ahead, mimicking the cold, dead stare on Marco’s and Santo’s faces.

“It looks like you have had trouble with her very recently.”

The Russian grabbed my chin, moving my head from side to side, no doubt scrutinizing the freshest marks Aris and Saul had left on my face.

“She just needed a gentle reminder of who’s in charge,” Aris said, smug satisfaction dripping from his words.

“In Russia, we do not hit our women. Still, knowing the purpose we have in mind for this one, maybe it’s okay.”

His loud, boisterous laugh followed and sent shocks of pain shooting through my damn head.

Saul and Aris joined him.

Marco and Santo stood quietly at the back of the room, blending in like wallflowers. I wished I could do the same.

The man released my chin and clasped his hands together.

“You spoke with my boss about a possible marriage to a second son. I know this. The reason you gave is understood, but it will not be possible with her reputation. Before the mask ball at the hotel, maybe yes. But people say things about her now that would follow a woman anywhere, even to Russia.”

Saul huffed. “What are people saying? I can assure you it’s all baseless gossip.”

“They say she is strong willed. That she will fuck any man. I see these fresh bruises, and I know the first is true. The second might become an asset for what we now have in mind for her.”

“What is your boss proposing?” Saul asked.

“When you first told us she was alive, we would make her a reward for soldiers who prove their worth, given her a luxury penthouse in Moscow, or perhaps Petersburg. The men who visited her would be men who pleased our leaders. Maybe an extra perk for certain others.

“She would have been provided for. Given some allowance to spend for good behavior. It would be a very nice life. Not a long one, of course. Our men sometimes get a little rough. But it would be a good life.”

“And what’s the current offer?”

A note of hostility underscored Saul’s voice.

He didn’t care what they did with me or how they might use me. He certainly didn’t care if I had a good life—or died by the hand of a man who would rather fuck a corpse.

The Russian nodded as if expecting Saul’s frustration.

“We understand why you believe she is worth more. She is very beautiful. She can bear sons, yes. Seeing this, I think she can still please the second son, but not as a wife. As a mistress. She will give him sons. Bratva will raise them. They will not be heirs. They will be soldiers. Parts in the machine.”

He settled his blood-shot gaze on me again.

“But first, I must know if she is up for the task.”

I tightened every muscle in my body to keep from wilting under his frigid stare.

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