Throne of Power (Throne Duet #1) - Rina Kent Page 0,70

last role in his life. He doesn’t even have bad coughs anymore.

I’m not cruel enough to hurt him, no matter how much I’ve been plotting to murder Kyle.

We’re currently sitting around the dining table for the grand dinner Sergei prepared. This time, everyone else is present, including each brigade’s highest-ranking guards and the ‘killers’, who are sitting at the far end of the table.

The Pakhan doesn’t always invite the entire brotherhood for supper, so this means it’s a very special occasion. The kitchen staff have prepared all sorts of traditional Russian dishes, ranging from sorrel soup to special types of dumplings and meaty main courses. Needless to say, the table is overflowing. However, no one touches their plates, waiting for Sergei to give permission.

He stands slowly, and I know it’s so he doesn’t trigger his cough. It’s been getting better lately, but when he does have a fit, it can get bad. Sergei holds a glass of premium vodka in his hand. “We’re gathered here to celebrate the new member that will join the Sokolov family. Our Rai and Kyle work fast.”

I try not to blush, bunching my fists into my dress, but I can feel my cheeks heating. Kyle grins as he holds my hand under the table. When I attempt to push him away, he intertwines our fingers together and lifts it to his face so he can kiss my knuckles.

If my face were heating earlier, it’s burning now.

Sergei exchanges a look with Igor, then laughs. “Please. Everyone, enjoy your meal.”

All people present at the table raise their glasses for the toast, then dig into the food with renewed energy. It’s not entirely gluttony, but rather a show of gratitude since it’s disrespectful not to eat when the boss offers.

I yank my hand away from Kyle, who smirks. God, why haven’t I killed this bastard in his sleep?

Well, it may have something to do with how he exhausts me every night. I pushed him away at first because of what he did, but I can’t resist his touch. I tell myself that I’m using his body as much as he’s using mine. It’s only sex.

Just meaningless sex.

Kyle, though, makes sure to come inside me every time, as if he’s really planning to impregnate me.

The joke’s on him, though. Not only did I take the morning-after pill, but I also got myself a birth control prescription. My body reacted badly to the shot in my teens, so I had to resort to taking the pills.

At the end of the day, this celebration is null and void. In a week or so, I’ll pretend I lost the child or that Kyle spoke too soon before we could make sure. Sergei will be sad, but he’ll understand the loss.

Because there’s no way in hell I’d let Kyle put a baby inside me.

There’s an easy conversation at the table about mundane things. Since the wives are also here, there’ll be no business talk until after dinner. A meeting that I’m invited to, per Sergei’s orders. It has to do with how I’ve been financing the brigades over the last couple of weeks. I might not be invited to outside meetings with other organized crime leaders, but I can finally have a permanent place in the brotherhood.

Igor and Mikhail are exchanging pleasantries with Sergei. I exchange a look with Ruslan who’s standing behind me. He pretends to excuse himself, and on his way, he trips and hits Igor’s chair. He quickly apologizes as the older man spills droplets of his wine on the tablecloth. Igor’s senior guard grabs Ruslan by the collar, but his boss discreetly motions at him to let my guard go—probably not to cause a ruckus.

One of the kitchen staff hurries to exchange Igor’s glass of wine and bows in her retreat. Ruslan returns to stand behind me as the small incident is drowned out by general chatter. A few minutes later, I make eye contact with Katia who’s standing across from me, near the exit, and she subtly follows the kitchen staff. We came up with this plan to have that DNA test done. I barely get direct contact with Igor or Stella, so this is one of the few chances we have. I already gave Katia Kyle’s toothbrush, so she should be able to get the DNA results soon.

Now that the plan is in motion, my concentration goes back to the event.

Damien is focused on his meal, cutting through the meat with unabashed savageness. His manners are generally