Amadeo sat next to me and had been quiet most of the day, but would respond in one-word responses when spoken to. His hatred for the Russians was clear and uncomfortable and made the entire situation tense. But I refused to let his prejudices ruin my time.
So I just ignored him, pretending he was nothing but my shadow, and after a while I found this easy routine.
“We should do something fun tomorrow,” Amara said, and I lifted my brows.
“Wasn’t that what today was?”
She waved off what I said, but she had a smile on her face. “That was retail therapy. I do that every other week.” She cut a sly glance to Nikolai.
He grunted. “And my credit cards are proof of that.” I could hear the affection in his voice. It was clear this man would go bankrupt if it meant his wife would be happy.
Although being the leader of the Bratva meant he most definitely would not be hurting for money in his lifetime.
She shrugged and picked at her noodles. “I mean, when my husband gives me a credit card with no limit and tells me to do my worst, I have to accept the challenge.” He slowly grinned and gave her a wink. “Besides, what else am I supposed to do?”
Those words died on her lips when Nikolai made the most animalistic sound I’d ever heard. You could’ve heard a pin drop for how quiet everything became. I saw Amara’s cheeks turn pink and then felt my embarrassment rise. I knew that look he gave her. It was one of primal desire.
“Nikolai,” she hissed, but there was no heat in her words. “My sister is here. Quit being a pig.”
He chuckled softly.
I cut a glance at Amara, and could see that although she was being stern with him, the possessive glint in his eyes also influenced her.
“I feel like I’ve been on my best behavior,” he said in a lazy tone and leaned back, picking up his beer and drinking it as he stared at her. “I haven’t killed anyone today. I haven’t gotten into any fights with douchebags looking at you when we went shopping.” He shrugged and took another drink before he set the bottle on the table. Then he looked at Dmitry. “For all intents and purposes, I feel like I’ve been a fucking saint. Wouldn’t you agree, Dmitry?”
Dmitry held his hands up and shook his head. “No fucking way are you dragging me into this. You dig your own grave, brother.” He lifted his coffee cup and took a drink before making a face of disgust. “Also, get a decent machine. The shit that comes out of that tastes like ass water.”
Nikolai snorted. “You and your bougie as hell drinks. You some kind of coffee connoisseur now?”
“No,” Dmitry deadpanned. “I just don’t like shit coffee.”
Nikolai shrugged. “Amara and I don’t drink that shit regularly. I bought the damn machine so you’d quit bitching when you came here.”
Amadeo made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat.
“Can you please act like being here isn’t the seventh level of hell?” I whispered. “You’ve been miserable this entire time. It can’t possibly be that bad.”
Nikolai and Dmitry started talking again, thankfully their voices masking my whispers to Amadeo.
He opened his mouth, but then I realized I shouldn’t have asked him anything. “You know what?” I whispered and slashed my hand between us. “Don’t answer that.”
I stared at Dmitry, knowing it was all kinds of wrong to have any kind of attraction toward him. He was so much older than me. He was dangerous, a man that any sane woman wouldn’t get involved with.
He never saw me as anything more than Amara’s little sister, but I just kept feeling this connection with him growing, as if it was this knot that was slowly being pulled tighter and tighter.
A cell phone rang, and he pulled it out of his coat pocket. When he saw who it was, he stood, excusing himself as he went into the living room. I glanced over my shoulder to stare at him, knowing I shouldn’t try to eavesdrop, but he was just so mysterious it had my curiosity growing.
After a few seconds he disconnected the call, said something to himself low and harsh, then turned to look at Nikolai.
“I have work to do. Big fight tonight.” Dmitry lowered his voice and switched to Russian as he and Nikolai moved toward the door.
I watched them curiously, having been around enough men in my life who broke the law to tell things were shifty just by their body language.
And what Dmitry and Nikolai were throwing off told me they weren’t talking about anything legal.
Chapter 11
Dmitry
The underground level beneath the Butcher and Son slaughterhouse was packed with the most degenerate human beings on the planet.
I stood at the top landing, the rickety-as-fuck railing ten seconds away from giving out for how rusty and old it was.