“He’s anticipating that this meeting will be successful,” I realize. “Wants you there to celebrate.”
“Or to punish, if things go badly,” Svetlana suggests darkly.
I grimace. That’s certainly not out of the question. But it won’t happen on my watch.
“I’ll have men stationed around the Regency,” I assure her. “I’ve assigned one to you specifically. In case things go south.”
“Really?”
“Of course,” I say. “Like I said, you’re a part of the team. And I protect my men… and women.”
“Thanks, darling,” she murmurs.
I hang up and turn to see Esme standing at the threshold of Phoenix’s room. She’s watching me carefully, clearly having heard some of my conversation.
“Who was that?” Esme asks.
“Her name’s Svetlana,” I reply. “She’s working undercover for me.”
Esme’s eyebrows rise. “Undercover?” she repeats. “Where?”
“I’ve positioned her… within Budimir’s inner circle.”
I keep it vague. No reason to stain her with the more unsavory aspects of what I’m doing to reclaim the Bratva.
Not because I don’t trust Esme, but because I want to spare her from the darker side of the world.
But she steps forward, her eyes trained on me, her expression curious, even interested.
“I know how mafia entourages work,” she tells me. “They comprise of the underbosses, security detail and… women, most of them prostitutes.”
I nod. “Svetlana is more than just a prostitute. She’s Bratva now.”
Esme’s eyes go wide for a moment. “She must be incredibly brave.”
She’s damn right about that. Svetlana is putting herself directly in the line of fire for my sake. “Her father spent his whole life in the mafia,” I tell her.
“So did mine,” she reminds me. “But I couldn’t do what she’s doing. It takes a special kind of woman to do a job like that.”
“True,” I reply. “But there are so many different ways for a woman to be special.”
I take her hand and bring it to my lips. She smiles knowingly at me.
“Do you think my ego is so fragile that I’d begrudge another woman a compliment?” she asks with a wink.
“Um… there’s only one right answer here, right?”
She laughs and slaps my hand away just as Adrik enters the living room.
“Hey, boss,” he says as nods to me. “Ms. Kovalyov.”
Instantly, Esme’s lips screw up with distaste. “Seriously, Adrik,” she admonishes, “I’ve asked you to drop the ‘Miss’ a hundred times.”
He smiles. “Habit.”
“Well, drop it,” she snaps.
“Yes, ma’am.”