Page 152 of Ripped Veil (Ripped Bratva)

Matvei smiles. “Don’t worry. I know you’re no hero.”

He walks up next to me and the two of us face the weapons wall. Rack after rack of rifles stare back at us.

“A rifle? Little ostentatious, don’t you think?”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to the gala with a fucking rifle,” I say. “I just like looking at them. They calm me.”

“You’re a fucking head case, Phoenix Kovalyov.”

“Don’t I know it?” Smirking, I turn towards the door. “Gotta go get ready.”

“I’ll meet you in the car in fifteen minutes. Unless you need longer to primp?”

“Careful. I can still leave you behind.”

Matvei laughs. “You wouldn’t dare.”

The change in him is stark. It’s amazing what the promise of action can do to a man like Matvei Tereshkova. He was born for this life. For the violence, the danger, the chaos of it all.

Just like I was.

Of course, I’d gone and ruined it all by getting married and pulling an innocent woman into my world. If I’d been smarter, I might have realized that this world was not conducive to a family, to normality, to happiness. I’d just been misled. I’d grown up surrounded by happy couples.

My parents. Cillian and Saoirse. Kian and Renata.

Is it any wonder that I’d fallen into the trap of believing that you could build both an empire and a family?

But I’ve long since realized that not every marriage ends well. Not every ending is happy. I should have done instead what Matvei did: embraced a life of eternal bachelorhood and said good fucking riddance to the things that normal people cherish. I’m not normal and I never will be. No one can change that.

I head to my room and swap my everyday clothes for a Brioni charcoal gray suit, Tom Gray loafers, and a crisp white button-down.

Satisfied with my reflection, I hide my guns and head downstairs where the car I’d requested has been pulled up front. A second later, Matvei appears.

“I thought you’d be here before me,” I remark. “Did you get mascara in your eye?”

Matvei gives me the finger. “I was preparing, asshole. We’ve got eyes on Sakamoto.”

“Good. ‘Bout time you started pulling your weight around here.”

He grins and gives me the finger again. One of my black jeeps roll up behind the BMW, and I give Konstantin and Alexi a salute where they’re sitting up in the front of the vehicle.

“Let’s get this show on the road,” I say grimly.

Matvei and I get into the BMW, and we set off towards the gala. According to my navigator, we should be there in twenty minutes.

“You sticking with your off-the-cuff plan?” Matvei asks as we drive, regarding me coolly. His expression gives nothing away but I know him well enough to know he’s worried.

I nod. “I told you—those are always the best ones.”

“The women?” he asks. “Elyssa and Charity…?”

“What about them?”

“Where are they?”

“In the house. Where else would they be?”

“They didn’t see you leave, did they?” he asks.

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