Behest.Jesus. He really does mean business.
“What deal would this be?”
“Come on, Anton.” Rodion rolls his eyes. I can just make out the frustration underneath his simpering smile. “You know what deal. Flemming.”
“What about him?”
For a second, Rodion looks unsure. “Are you denying that you cut a deal with him that purposefully excluded the Ivanovs?”
“We have historically gone in together,” I acknowledge. “But there’s no contract that states it’s legally binding.”
“Because it’s always been a show of good faith.”
“Good faith,” I murmur, just so that he can really let those words sink in. “What a concept.”
He’s trying hard to keep his expression light and polite, but I can see the twist in his eyes. His rage is one insult away from surfacing.
He decides to change tactics instead of addressing the issue of our splitting loyalties. “I’m sure you remember my nephew?” He gestures towards the pasty-faced fuck by his side.
“I can’t say that I do.”
The man looks at Rodion like he’s not sure whether to speak or keep his mouth shut.
“Does he really have Ivanov genes?” I ask.
Rodion glares at his nephew. “My sister’s son, Yaromir. He hasn’t had the training I would have liked. But he’s family.”
I wonder how long he’s been waiting to say that. The message is subtle but clear: I may have been his son-in-law, but since his daughter’s death, the title has lost its power.
A nephew, even an inept-looking one, is still better than a man who doesn’t have any Ivanov blood in his veins.
“Do you speak?” I ask, turning to the man.
He isn’t much younger than me if at all, but there’s a wide-eyed naivete to him that makes my lips curl. He’s untested, pliable, weak. Disgusting.
“I… I’m just here be-because my uncle asked me to be,” he says, tripping over his own tongue.
“What a good little puppy,” I say with a dark chuckle.
I can feel the tension rolling off of Lev. I know I’m pushing buttons now, but I can’t help it. Rodion really thought I’d be threatened by this dimwit? Give me a goddamn break.
“He’s my nephew, Anton,” Rodion says, displeasure evident in the clench of his jaw.
He doesn’t actually care about me insulting his nephew. It’s all about the symbiotic nature of respect. Give some to get some. I’m doing neither, and I couldn’t care less.
“And I married your daughter, Rodion,” I say. “I would have thought you’d have a little more ‘good faith’ in me.”
“I might, if certain rumors didn’t continue to circulate.”
“I thought we’d put this fignya to rest.”
“I thought we had, too,” he says. “But then you choose to make questionable decisions like sidelining my family. It makes me question your motives.”
“My motives have and always will be the same. I do what is best for the Stepanovs and nothing else.”
“And what about me?” Rodion asks. “As your ally and father-in-law, where do I stand?”
I raise my eyebrows. “I think that depends on you.”