Page 61 of Dark Prince

“A better question is why are our parents acting like they’re together.”

“Old news, sister. They are,” Krishna informs me while his eyes remain on both bosses in the room.

“Since when?” I seethe.

“Since the day we were married, Sasha,” Mom informs me.

“Sit her on the coffee table,” Dom says as he steps back into the room, a black container in one hand and a bottle of Tito’s in the other.

Dad complies but reaches for the box in his hand at the same time Mom snatches the bottle from Domenico’s grasp. “Give me that, boy.”

“I know what I’m doing, old timer,” Domenico quips. “Move out of my way.”

“Boy, when it’s your wife with a gunshot wound, you can handle it. When it’s mine, I’ll handle her myself. Now be gone.” Dad unzips the box while Mom unscrews the orange cap on the bottle of booze. “Drink up, baby. I have a murder to commit after this.”

Dad pulls a long pair of tweezers from the container as well as a lighter as I gawk at his use of the endearment. It’s weird hearing that term come from his lips. Flicking the flame on, he waves it under the utensil until it turns bright orange.

“No,” Mom declares after taking a swig. “You’re officially retired. It’s time to give the reins to Krishna.”

“Soon, love, soon. I promise, but it won’t be today.”

“Like hell it won’t.” She looks over her shoulder. “K, congratulations. You’re the new pakhan.”

“Nikita.” Dad draws out, his tone is low, but the weight of it is palpable from where I stand leaned against Ren’s chest. He hasn’t released me and I’m perfectly content in his grasp.

“No, Mischa,” Mom says. “I’ve waited long enough. It’s why I’m here, and I don’t plan on leaving without you retired, so tell our son he’s the new boss.”

“After I feed Dimitri Sokolov’s skull through a meat grinder while he’s fully coherent. That is the least you can afford me. No one comes after my wife and lives through the same night.”

My phone goes off again, and needing a distraction from the weird turn of events today, I pull it from my back pocket.

Martina:She better show up tomorrow. I didn’t plan all this for nothing, young lady.

Martina:My house. 6pm tomorrow night. Don’t be late, which means be early.

Dad pulls the casing from Mom’s arms as I slide my phone back into my back pocket. Matteo’s mother is annoying. With everything that happened last night, I’d forgotten about Sienna’s wedding shower. Surely, I can use this situation to get out of that bullshit.

Dad drops the casing on the glass coffee table, as well as the tweezers. In the blink of an eye while Dad isn’t watching her, she reaches down to her ankle, pulling out the smallest handgun I’ve ever seen. My father makes a dramatic sigh, telling me he knows what she’s up to. When he snaps his gaze to Mom, it’s with the barrel resting under his chin.

“Say it with me,” she starts. “I, Mischa Nikolayev, hereby relinquish my role as the pakhan of the United States of America. I turn over that title to my son, Krishna Nikolayev immediately.”

Who the hell is this woman and where has she been my whole life?

“I’d forgotten how this side of you turns me on, love.” Dad smirks.

“Eww, can you not? That’s my mother.” I gag.

“Yes, and if you weren’t standing there, daughter, I’d be fucking her at this very moment.”

“I’m going to vomit.”

“That’s just the morning sickness, snowflake,” Ren chimes in.

“You’re pregnant?” Mom lights up, and like that, the color returns to her cheeks. “Oh, sweetheart. That’s wonderful news.”

It’s then I remember the earlier statement Tony made. I turn my head and flick my eyes to him. “Hold the fuck up. What did you mean by brokered a deal with me?”

“Yeah, I’d like the answer to that too, Dad,” Ren says, tightening his grip around me like he’s anticipating I’ll bolt.

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