His sole reason was on his lap, and he hadn’t asked to be involved in my drama.
“He will make a mistake,” Gavril finished. “He will be thinking about his wounded pride and his lonely dick, wanting revenge because Naomi took him down. It’s perfect timing. Even you have to admit it.”
“I’m not admitting anything,” Roman bit out, his expression hard. “This isn’t about a fucking Mafia or even someone who needs to be put in their place, Kirilenko. This is the fucking FBI and the involvement of the United States government! What kind of deal do you think you can make with them? They took down Al fucking Capone for not paying taxes.” He eyed Gavril. “If we touch one of theirs, the entire bureau is going to scream for our blood. And it’s not like you have an endless supply of men.”
Gavril dropped his arms from around me and took a step toward the desk. “At least I’m still doing something. I heard that you quit.”
I watched helplessly as Roman carefully set Ilsa on her feet and rose to his full height, bracing his hands on the desk. “Watch your words, pakhan. You are on my turf, and my generosity is starting to run out.”
“Roman,” Ilsa warned, laying her hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t helping.”
“Listen to your wife, don,” Gavril sneered. “I heard that the changing of the pants in the family has happened anyway.”
Ilsa’s gaze darkened and I stepped forward myself, grabbing Gavril’s arm.
“Gavril, stop it!” I hissed, knowing that my bestie was about two seconds from doing something bad to my husband. Once upon a time she might have been protective of me, but now that she had Roman, there was nothing she was going to let hurt him in any way. “You need his help, not him as an enemy, Gavril.”
“I don’t need any fucking thing,” Gavril growled, shaking off my touch and looking very much like he wanted to go a round or two with Roman. “Especially not from this asshole.”
“Good,” Roman shot back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Then you can get the fuck out of my house before I help you out myself.”
I looked at Ilsa, but she was also glaring at Gavril. When the heck had this fallen apart so badly? I felt like we were a hair’s breadth away from the guns blazing, and I couldn’t let that happen.
“Will you two just cut it out?” I shouted, stepping in front of Gavril and glaring at my two friends on the other side of the desk. “This is ridiculous. We are all on the same side, but clearly the two of you are too busy measuring your own dicks!”
This was the last thing we needed.
Roman’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t say anything and I saw some of the anger leave Ilsa’s expression. I had at least gotten through to her.
“She’s right.” Ilsa finally blew out a breath. “This is stupid. We need to think through the plan, not create another problem that neither of us is capable of dealing with right now.”
I turned to Gavril, who currently looked like he was chiseled from stone, and laid my hand on his cheek, trying to draw his attention to me. When our eyes finally collided, I saw the war raging within.
“It’s not a fight between us,” I told him softly, hoping that he would listen to me. “It’s a fight with Jon Hampton and the Krasnaya Bratva. Remember that.”
His jaw clenched, but some of the tension in his eyes lessened, and I knew I had at least won the battle, but not the war. It was going to take a lot for these two to even be in the same room together and not attempt to go at each other’s throats.
“Our wives are right. This is ridiculous and stupid,” Roman finally said, reaching across the desk with his hand but looking like he would rather take his fist and punch Gavril instead. “Truce?”
I stepped back and watched Gavril wage his own inner battle, holding my breath and hoping that he could at least put his feelings for Roman aside for now. We might not have their help in taking down Jon, but the last thing we needed was for him to become a bigger player in this war on the wrong side.
Finally, after I felt like Gavril wasn’t going to do it, he reached out and shook Roman’s hand. “Truce.”
Both Ilsa and I loosened our breaths as the men stepped back, and Gavril looked at me. “Well, Naomi,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back. “What should we do?”