Page 28 of Dangerous Promises

"So," Anton says, mouth smacking as he takes a sip and devours the taste. Or tests for poison. Testing for poison would be a good idea. "What now?"

My eyes make their way around the room and its clear everyone is at a loss. Even the men around the edges of the room exchange nervous glances. Nobody is sure how this is meant to go. Whether we'll head out of here on good terms or amidst bullets firing.

"You tell me, Anton," Alexei says, the stress in his voice barely restrained as he sits back and rests his arm across the back of the chair. I try not to roll my eyes. It's typical that they'd hatch the idea to work together with no idea what that actually means.

"We came here to negotiate with you," Anton reminds him, even though that does nothing to progress the conversation.

"I'm not actually sure why we're here," I pout.

"Sage, please," Anton says, shaking his head. "You proposed this, you must have some idea of what resources you want from me."

Alexei's jaw grinds and he takes a sip of his drink that is far too stiff to be relaxed. "When I asked you for resources Anton, I meant all of them."

"All of them?" Freddie raises his brow.

"Guns, men, intel-" Isla begins.

"Allof them," Alexei says, enunciating clearly. "It would take nothing less to fend him off. Chet has more men than either of us do. More guns. More intel. More everything."

Anton rubs at his temple. "Yes, he's managed to get a lot of people together without drawing attention."

"He's always been good at not drawing attention," Alexei agrees. "Always good at being sneaky."

Anton's eyes go cloudy, as if he's lost somewhere in a distant memory. "He never comes out of hiding unless he knows he has the advantage. I've fought many fights against his people without even seeing him show his face."

"So he's a pussy," Isla interjects, pacing at the edges of the room. The eyes of their men follow her with an admiration that tells me it's actually her that's been keeping the Rushkoff empire alive since Victor's death. "Either way, that's off topic. He's drawing at least some attention now. By attacking us."

"Still, it's a lot to ask," Anton says.

"You agreed to work together," Alexei reminds him, nostrils flaring. "That means everything. As much as I don't like it, that means sharing everything. It's the only thing that will get in his way."

Anton contemplates this for a moment, but I'm not sure how he didn't deduce that we would need to share everything as soon as Alexei asked. To really fend off Chet, there's nothing else we can do now but behave as one.

My uncle clearly agrees, his shoulders turning in resignation.

"Then a show of strength is what we need," Anton agrees. "Show him we are willing to work together to defend our territory and Chet will go scuttling away with his tail between his legs like he always does."

Alexei seems satisfied with this and nods. "Without the advantage, he will make himself scarce." The men at the edgeof the room don't seem to hate the idea, nodding and shrugging amongst themselves like it's good enough.

But it's not good enough. The whole thought of it makes me want to laugh. I even feel the chuckle building in my gut and traveling up my throat. Unfortunately for me, it comes bursting out of my mouth with an inappropriate amount of condescension.

"Ha!"

The room freezes, all eyes and heads turning to land on me. My limited sense of self preservation tells me to shut my mouth and apologize. But I don't. Because this ideaislaughable. From a room of the supposed most powerful people in the state. It's pathetic.

It's definitely not something Dimitri DeMarco or Victor Rushkoff would ever settle for.

Alexei's body doesn't move but his sharp eyes glue to me. "Something funny, princess?"

"Oh you don't think it's funny?" I say, attitude wheezing out of me to jump down their throats. "You're saying Chet's a pussy, and yet your big plan is to ask forresources," I roll my hands and make a whiny noise, "and give hima show of strength, so that hegoes away."

Anton's mood shifts from embarrassment to concern, like he can't decide whether to watch the Rushkoffs in case they try to stab me, or jump over the coffee table and slap a hand over my mouth himself.

"Chet very clearly wants both you and me dead," I say, pointing between Alexei and I. "You're the psychotic Rushkoff, and supposedly all you want to do issend him a message to back off."

I feel smug that my point has hit home so I sit back in my chair and cross my arms.

"Sage..." Anton says, and I notice that even though I'm acting a little insolent, I actually have the full attention of the room. The men standing at the edge of the room, whether DeMarco or Rushkoff all watch me curiously. The same show of interest and respect in their eyes as when they look at Isla.