idea,” I whisper behind my staged smile.
Pavel waits for me to continue.
“This won’t work with my old allies. They’ll only see me as a failure, they do, and it’ll only be a matter of time before someone challenges me for the top spot.”
“What do you propose then?” Pavel asks, reaching for two glasses of French champagne from the silver tray held by a server.
He offers one to me, which is the perfect guise for me to conceal my plans as I raise the glass to my lips, and reveal, “We start from scratch. Out with the old. In with the new.” And with that, the champagne trickles down my throat, the bubbles colliding with the excitement brewing within my stomach.
Pavel doesn’t drink. He simply looks at me as though I’ve gone mad.
I suppose that’s a fair response, seeing as I just proposed we kill half of Russia’s underworld. But it’s the only way.
Austin is little league because of people like Santo. But if I eliminate the competition, he will be grateful and trustworthy for my troubles, and I’ll have a loyal ally for life. It’s rather genius.
“You’re mad,” Pavel says from behind the rim of his glass.
I shrug, not bothering to argue because the point is moot.
This is insane, but there simply is no other way. I cannot have dealings with my old colleagues because they know too much. They’ve seen me at my worse, and with such an unforgiving audience, they won’t forget.
They’ll only see my hardships as failures and weaknesses, and will never respect me as they once did.
They may prefer me over Serg, but give it time, and others will favor someone else over me. Here, we sit on a throne of lies. The fake smiles, the staged laughs…it’s all a power play as we sniff out the weak. I must pick them off before they strike first.
I invited those who matter, but that will soon be past tense as my interest now lies with the underdogs. Their loyalty will know no bounds when I offer them the world…on a silver platter.
We’re all playing nice, but it’s time to throw a wolf in among the chickens. And the first person to be sacrificed is Santino Macrillo.
Willow and Saint are by my side in an instant. “Everything okay?”
Nodding happily, I grin. “Yes. Everything is rather glorious. It’s time Russia has a facelift.”
Saint’s eyebrows shoot up in interest. “You talking about taking out the trash?”
When Santo enters the ballroom with his feathers ruffled, I laugh. “The trash is about to take itself out.”
Willow huddles closer to Saint, but she has nothing to fear. This is my world, and I only have one rule—kill anyone who stands in my way.
I spend the next two hours liaising with my new confidants, much to the distaste of my “peers.” They don’t ask how Willow is because they don’t care. She is just another woman to them. They’re uninterested in my past because I’m their future. Their meal ticket.
As I’m speaking with Concetta Capri, Pavel whispers in my ear that it’s time to make a speech. Willow and Saint stand behind me.
Concetta comes from old Italian money. Her family’s business dealings in real estate are worth a small fortune. However, their competition is Santo’s friend, who sold me this house. They’d never challenge him because once you’re in with the Macrillos, no one dares to question their place.
But that’ll soon change.
“Please excuse me, Concetta. It seems I have an audience to address.” I gesture for Saint and Willow to follow.
Concetta smiles happily, pleased that someone gave her the time of day. You see, that’s how this hierarchy works.
On the outer, people like Concetta would hold importance, but in here, they’re merely to make up numbers. The affluent look down their noses at them because they’re not rich enough.
The ballroom is filled to capacity, but it’s only one face I yearn to see. Why isn’t she here?
Has harm come to her? Is she…?
Shaking my head, I can’t fathom such a dire outcome for her. My heart will not permit it.
Focusing on this trivial nonsense, I make my way toward the feature wall and clear my throat. As heads turn my way, the room falls quiet.
Scanning the room confidently, I ensure each person understands this is my show, and betraying me will result in them paying with their lives.
“Friends,” I commence with my arm extended out wide. “Thank you for coming. It feels like old times.”
An uncomfortable laughter fills the static.
“But it’s not. Things have