Page 20 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

It’s been over ten years since I've had to worry about money, but old habits die hard.

The men around me fold fifties and hundreds into the dancers’ g-strings. I sit with my arms crossed.

They throw wads of cash on the table, drunkenly announcing, “The next round is on me,” before they pass out. I sip water from a glass bottle I carried in with me.

I’m struck by the waste of it all.

Arslan would tell me to loosen up. "You've earned this life. Might as well enjoy it,” he always says.

But I know all too well how easily things can fall apart. And at the end of the day, I'd rather be me than any of the drunk fucks dancing around me. BecauseI'mthe one with power.

“You should try the salmon,” Giorgos proclaims.

I roll my eyes. “I’ll pass.”

“Lighten up, have fun!” Giorgos crows. “We’re all friends here, Nikolai.”

“You know as well as I do that nothing is settled until it’s settled,” I say. “I need to leave soon, anyway."

I don’t really think Giorgos Simatou has the guts or motive to make an attempt on my life, but the Greek mafia is notoriously rash.

I mean, Giorgos wants me to marry his sister. The man’s judgment cannot be trusted.

“You should really eat,” Xena says, leaning across the table so I can see straight down her shirt. With tits like those, she could have any one of the horned-up twenty-year-olds in her brother’s mafia at her beck and call. But her eyes have been locked on me for far too long. “Do I need to feed you?”

“Do I look like a fucking farm animal?” I ask, loudly enough that the attention of the entire table pivots toward us.

Her eyes widen. “No. No, I just… I was—”

“Unless you were going to finalize this deal, then I don’t care.” I turn to Giorgos. “Are we here to make an alliance or what?”

“We are. Which is why we are celebrating.” Giorgos lifts a nearly empty glass of wine. “We always celebrate a new deal.”

His men cheer loudly, toasting and drinking.

“You all celebrate anything,” I mutter.

Giorgos stares at me for a moment, tension rippling between us, before he leans his head back and cackles. “Because there is much to celebrate, my friend!”

“Like lukewarm strip club salmon?” I drawl.

“Like being fucking Poseidon!” he shouts to the room. “I control the water—the ports and the cargo ships. Anything that comes in or out of this city comes through me.”

He's exaggerating, but only just. His family started with one wooden boat and a dream. Now, there are cargo ships three football fields long with the Simatou name emblazoned on the side. Seeing shit like that day in and day out could give anyone a god complex.

“Are you sure?” I ask. “I thought that was your sister.”

Xena understands the barb immediately and inhales sharply, but it takes a second for Giorgos to catch on. When he does, he claps his sister on the back and grins. “My sister spreads her legs for the good of us all. And now, she’ll do it one last time for you. With our new deal, Nikolai Zhukova will be the last to have the lovely Xena.”

Xena slaps her brother's arm. “I’m not some bitch you’re giving to a stud, brother.”

“Of course not,” Giorgos says, though he’s still smiling. “You’re the princess of the Simatou mafia, and you’ve served us well.”

Xena rolls her eyes. “Let’s just get this over with.”

"For once, Xena and I agree on something,” I say.

“She’s impatient,” Giorgos says to me with a wink. “Are you impatient, too, Nikolai?”

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