Page 7 of Emerald

Nina Egorov is a cocktail waitress who managed to snag a low-level hustler, and now that she’s tired of sucking his wrinkly old cock, she thinks she can trade up again.

Lyosha Egorov is a nobody. The fact that Nina thinks she could go from him to me is an insult.

That’s what pisses me off—her thinking I was actually interested in her for more than an afternoon. Good-looking women are a dime a dozen. They literally throw themselves at me when they see a $60K watch on my wrist and the keys to a $200K car sitting next to my phone on the bar.

I wouldn’t even have to be tall or handsome to get as much tail as I want, yet I’m all of those things, and powerful as well. I really could snap my fingers and have Nina killed, though I don’t particularly want to.

I’ve never killed a woman yet. I like to think I have a few standards left.

I don’t want Nina dead, but I do want her gone.

If I was going to get into a relationship—which I’m not—it wouldn’t be with a woman like that.

What kind of woman would I actually date?

I have no idea.

That’s why I’m single.

What kind of woman would fit in the life of a Bratva boss? An innocent flower who has no idea what I actually do? A social climber, attracted to the money and power? A mafia princess, who’s at least used to this world?

I’ve tried them all, and none seem to suit me.

I suppose I’m just too picky. I don’t even like to eat at the same restaurant twice. I can’t stand anyone for more than a few hours, except my brother.

I think I’m just meant to be alone.

And I’m fine with that.

I get my car from the valet and speed off to Babanin’s warehouse, where he’s supposed to be storing my shipment of Kalashnikovs but has apparently given them away to somebody else instead.

It takes me almost thirty minutes to get there. Babanin’s port is located on a remote rim of the Baltic Sea, far away from the city center of St. Petersburg. It’s a dull and quiet little harbor. Perfect for bringing in shipments without anybody noticing. Especially when the appropriate bribes have been paid.

Dominik is waiting for me when I roll up. He’s my baby brother, but we don’t look much alike other than height and breadth. He’s fair while I’m dark, he has a smooth, almost gentle voice, while mine can be harsh, even when I don’t mean it to be.

He’s the only person on this earth that I trust. Sometimes I think that without him, I’d become a complete monster. He’s the only thing that holds me back from the edge. Caring about him keeps me slightly human.

“Privetik, brat,”he says, giving me a nod.Hey, brother.

“Privet,”I say, clapping him on the shoulder. “Where’s Babanin?”

“Inside,” he says.

“With how many men?”

“Two.”

I consider this for a moment. I don’t like to go into a contentious meeting like this outnumbered. But Babanin is an old man. That doesn’t mean I discount him—but it evens the playing field a little.

“You want to call Efrem or Maks?” Dom asks, reading my mind.

I shake my head.

“No need,” I say.

Dominik nods in agreement, and we enter the warehouse. I can see Babanin up in his office. He’s sitting behind his desk, trying to act confident, but I know that he knows he’s in deep shit.

Dominik and I climb the stairs to the office. It’s a glass box, transparent on all sides so that Babanin can look down on the warehouse and the loading dock, keeping an eye on his workers at all times.

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