money laundering purposes.
Sascha—he offers protection to the rich and paranoid for a hefty fee.
And then there is Christian.
Three major players all in the same room.
Galina’s beauty is renowned. It’s what she’s used to get to the top as her kindness is definitely not a selling point. She’s had five ex-husbands and counting who have died “mysteriously.” I say mysteriously because everyone knows she killed them when they stopped being of use to her.
She saunters over. Now that I’m back on top, she wants to sit by me on my throne. It’ll be a cold day in hell when that happens.
“I thought Tura wasn’t your scene,” she purrs, extending her hand for me to kiss it. I’d rather kiss a gorilla’s ass.
So in response, I fist-bump her, making Saint proud. Her face twists into a confused scowl.
“It isn’t.” I don’t elaborate because I don’t want to talk to any of these assholes.
She is taken aback by my bluntness, as she’s accustomed to everyone kissing her surgically lifted ass. I am not one of those people, however.
Sascha clears his throat, drinking his champagne.
Christian is the only one who seems to be thoroughly enjoying this uncomfortable scene. “Alek kindly delivered something which belongs to me. Can you imagine the king of Russia working for me?”
I’m seconds away from tossing him off the alfresco, when Ella subtly squeezes my arm, holding me back. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Galina.
“You never introduced your new pet. What shall we call you?” Galina arches a brow, sizing Ella up. She thinks she’s competition, that Ella is standing in her way.
Ella does what is expected of a submissive—she remains quiet until I give her permission to speak.
“Is this one an American too?” Galina asks, disgusted.
“How is that any of your business?”
She examines her nails as if bored by the conversation she initiated. “Just wondering if I need to prepare for another disaster. Their пизда must be coated in gold for you to risk so much when you can have any woman or man you desire.”
I can’t stand this. If I don’t kill at least one of them now, I’m going to explode.
Christian senses my anger, and although he wants to assert his power over me, he does want to make sure we’re on the same team. He needs me, after all.
“No politics,” he says with a wave of his hand. “We’re here for a good time. This is a celebration. Alek and I are going into business together.”
Sascha’s brow furrows. “I thought you worked alone.” He’s been on my ass for years to come work for me, but I had all the manpower I needed because Sascha could only wish to be half the man Saint is.
Turning slowly, I look at him. He knows about Christian’s operation, which means he’s become very valuable to me. He’s been the righthand man to many. What secrets is he privy to?
“Alek and I are like-minded, and together, we will thrive,” Christian replies, not bothering to clarify that this business venture has nothing to do with exploiting little children.
“I’ve still yet to see the little mice,” Galina says, and by all that’s holy, she’s just ensured her death will be a painful one. “There is something about little hands and big men.”
Ella’s gags catch in her throat. I gently rub her back.
So it appears Galina is the buyer. But what would she need the children for? She owns nightclubs, and the last I heard, they weren’t a front for child prostitution. How things have changed since I fell from my throne.
This would have never happened when I was in control. But that’s what happens when a soulless Мудак like Serg rules. It’s a free-for-all.
Russia is a fucking mess.
“Come, let us share a meal.” Christian gestures we’re to sit and break bread at the outdoor table.
Eating is the last thing on my mind, but I need some time to come up with a game plan. If Galina and Sascha are aware of Christian’s business, then they’ll have the information I need. So I follow Christian to the glass table.
We all take a seat while Ella stands behind me. I don’t want her sitting anywhere near these bastards. The drop from the alfresco isn’t far. If the situation calls for it, she can jump over the railing and make a quick escape.
The maids scurry outside, hands filled with an array of foods. They place everything onto the table with military precision before leaving as quickly as they came. Christian helps himself to the antipasto