Page 35 of Tarnished Tyrant (Zhukova Bratva 1)

“Get your stuff, Elise,” I growl.

She stomps her foot on the wood floor. “No.”

"Elise" Nikolai infers smugly. “Pretty name.”

I ignore him. “Elise, do as I say.”

“You’re not my mom.”

I sigh. That line is really getting old fast. “That may be true, but I’ve been working on my mom glare for moments such as this. Don’t make me turn around and use it. Especially since I’d have to turn my back onMr. Zhukovahere. And he might chloroform me if given the chance.”

Nikolai rolls his eyes, but doesn’t deny it.

“What?” Elise asks. “What is going on? I thought we were here for your work?”

“You are,” Nikolai answers. “You both are. And you’re not going anywhere.”

“We already have a hotel room, thank you very much,” I yell.

He laughs. “Is that what you call that rat-infested shithole?”

Elise laughs with him, and I hate that it's the first time I've heard her laugh since she came to live with me. More to the point, I hate thatheis responsible for it.

“At least we were safe there!”

“Safe from what?” Nikolai scoffs. “A long, happy life? I’m surprised you checked in without getting mugged. You’re guaranteed a case of ringworm if you use the shower.”

“Spoken like a true rich snob,” I spit. “You’re so used to your ivory tower that you have no clue how the other half lives.”

Suddenly, the annoyance on his face shifts into something else. It’s the same shift I’ve seen several times now. It’s like a cloud moving over the sun. When the world changes colors and the temperature drops. Everything is the same, but completely different.

“You’re staying here now.” His voice is even, but there’s a barely restrained rage just under the surface. “I’ll send a car for you in the morning.”

“Thank God,” Elise says, padding back into the living room. “This place is heaven.”

I watch Nikolai walk onto the elevator and turn to face me. Our eyes lock as he leans forward to push the button.

He winks as the doors close, and I shiver.

“No,” I mutter. “This is hell.”

7

NIKOLAI

Arslan knocks once before letting himself into my office. “Hey, I wanted to—”

"Lose a hand for barging into my office before I invited you in?" I interrupt.

He snorts. “Does Arnold let you talk to him like that? If so, he’s even softer than I thought.”

"Arnold understands his place."

"Arnold is boring," Arslan complains.

“Arnold is perfect for this front. People buy him as a VP."

“I know, I know, it’s all about the outward image. Spare me the lecture,” Arslan sighs. He holds up his hands so I can see the tattoos across his knuckles. “I don’t look the part.”

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