Page 47 of Ruby Malice

I lean back in my desk, crossing one ankle over my knee. “You know, for the president of a motorcycle club, you’re a lot more cautious than I expected.” Skang’s face puckers in distaste, but I wave him off. “Relax. That’s a good thing. The Soul Stealers have a good leader in you. It means you want to take care of your men—your family. That’s an instinct I understand well.”

He’s still cautious, but I can feel Skang warming to me. “I heard you and Stefano were working together.”

“We were,” I admit. “We struck a truce. And then Stefano stepped over the line. He toyed with what was mine.”

German lets out a nearly inaudible sigh behind me. He scheduled this meeting, but he didn’t know why. Until now.

The girl isn’t worth a war. I already know how he feels. He doesn’t need to say it.

But he’s wrong.

If Stefano will toe the line of our alliance to try to hurt a woman he saw me speaking to at one event, then he isn’t anyone worth trusting. Though, I already knew that.

“Are you looking for revenge?” There’s a sparkle in the gruff man’s eye. “That’s my specialty.”

“I’ve heard. You found the man who murdered your daughter and turned his skull into a serving bowl.”

Skang chuckles darkly. “There are so many silly rumors these days. You can’t believe everything you hear.”

“Every rumor has a crumb of truth. And a crumb is all I need to know I want you on my side. Not Stefano’s.”

Skang and his men look at each other, an unspoken discussion happening in front of me. After a minute, he slides his chair closer to my desk and leans forward. “Fine. Let’s talk.”

I smile and offer him the same deal I’ve offered every other motorcycle club Stefano has ever partnered with. Protection in my expanding territory, a cut of profits in exchange for protection, and a single debt that I will owe to be called upon at any time.

Like the other two club leaders before him, Skang accepts without negotiation.

And Stefano’s castle loses one more brick.

11

RAYNE

Kirill’s house is even bigger than I thought. It’s a three-story building with central living quarters and three separate wings shooting off of the main space like sun rays. Plus, each wing has a basement.

I no longer wonder why he needs an entire house staff. If anything, I wonder if he’s hired enough people.

“I’m so glad we were assigned to the same gym,” Natalia says. She’s cleaning the floor-to-ceiling mirror next to mine. The room is covered in them, so this task alone will take a good half an hour.

I lower my rag. “Are you telling me there are more gyms besides this one?”

“Three of them,” she confirms. “One in each wing.”

I let out a low whistle. “Is there an invisible professional football team living here that I’m not aware of?”

I glance around. An entire bank of treadmills are situated in the back corner with a row of ellipticals behind them, but most of the room is devoted to weights. There are squat machines, racks of dumbbells, and a slew of machines I don’t even know the names of.

Natalia shrugs. “Wouldn’t surprise me. The crazy part is that this is his second house. Do you think the one in New York City looks like this, too?”

“I wouldn’t put anything past him,” I mutter. Understatement of the year, albeit not in the way Natalia gets it.

“If I was him, I’d put all this money into something I’d be able to use more often. Paying for a mansion you use three months a year is silly.”

“If I was him, I’d put all this money into philanthropy,” I grumble. “This seems like a waste.”

“Boo. Boring.” Natalia flops her rag over her shoulder and plops down on the nearest weight bench. “If you have the money, might as well spend it.”

“On what? A bunch of junk that will be out of date in a year?”

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