Page 65 of Savage Devotion

Two women drape themselves across his shoulders, their skin gleaming in the dim light, their fingers trailing lazily through his dark hair. He dismisses them with a gesture as I approach, their near-naked forms sliding away with grace that tells me they'll be back.

"Dante." He stands, drink still in hand. "Thank you for coming."

I don't embrace him. Don't offer the expected brotherly greeting. Instead, I scan the room, taking note of exits, of potential threats, of the dancer in the corner whose attention seems a fraction too interested.

"I couldn't ignore your request, Nico. Your message sounded urgent," I reply, taking the seat across from him.

At the side of the room, Marco positions himself near the entrance, his back to the wall, gaze monitoring both my brother and the rest of the room.

Nico signals to one of his girls for another glass, and they pour me two fingers of scotch from a nearby bottle of whiskey.

My brother leans back in his chair, and huffs a heavy breath. "Look, Dante, I'll be direct. Things are changing in London. Rapidly."

I accept the drink, but don't lift it to my lips. "Such as?"

He exhales a stream of smoke, the scent of Cuban tobacco mingling with perfume and whiskey. "Come on, you're a smart man. It's clear the Volkovs are playing both sides, brother."

I take a slow sip of the scotch, letting the burn coat my throat while I consider Nico's words.

The Volkovs. The way my accounts suddenly froze after years of careful building.

The timing of it all - right when I was gaining ground against Luca and preparing to strike.

But the Volkovs gave me Francesca. Or at the least, helped me acquire her. Why do that if they planned to betray me?

My jaw clenches as I remember the last report from my financial team back in London. Thirty million in assets, locked. Secret trading accounts suspended. Even my backup reserves in Switzerland are fucked.

Unless...unless she was meant to be a distraction. Keep me focused on breaking her while they dismantled everything I'd built.

The thought makes my hand tighten around the glass. Maybe I've been watching the wrong pieces on the board.

"The Volkovs have always played both sides," I say carefully, keeping my voice neutral. "It's how they've survived this long. I have agreements with Dimitri and Demyan. Arrangements sealed in blood and verified by actions."

I won't give Nico the satisfaction of knowing how deep their potential betrayal cuts. I won't let him see that I'm scrambling to hold my empire together while they systematically strip away my resources.

Nico takes another drag of his cigar, those carefully watchful eyes studying my face. He's fishing for information, trying to gauge how much I know. How desperate I might be.

"Like your arrangement for the Castellano girl?" Nico raises an eyebrow, his tone deliberately casual. "That pretty little thing you've been keeping at Elena's villa?"

My fingers tighten around the glass. "Watch yourself, Nico. Some topics remain off-limits."

He holds up a hand in mock surrender. "No offense intended. She's a beautiful acquisition. But my point stands. The Volkovs facilitated that transaction because it served their immediate purposes. Not out of loyalty to you."

"They've upheld their end of our agreements," I counter.

Nico leans forward, lowering his voice despite the music covering our conversation. "Dante, wake up. They're meeting with Luca twice weekly now. Dimitri personally. And they've begun moving shipments through his northern corridors instead of your southern routes."

The information collides with my reality.

"You have proof?" I demand, already assessing the implications if true.

Nico slides a phone across the table, screen unlocked and open to a series of images. Grainy surveillance photos show Dimitri Volkov entering the Ravelli mansion in London. Timestamp: three days ago.

"There's more," Nico continues as I swipe through the damning evidence. "Bianca's pregnancy... there are complications."

I look up sharply. "What kind?"

"The kind that have Luca leaving important meetings to rush her to specialists. The kind that have him distracted. Vulnerable." Nico takes another drag from his cigar, blowing smoke rings toward the ceiling. "And yet, paradoxically, he's more dangerous than ever."

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