Page 8 of Lord of Pain
"Thank you for lunch." My smile is acutely uncomfortable. "I do have to get back to work, though I'm very much looking forward to thanking you for yourgenerousdonation. It'll go toward new sports equipment for the gym. We have so many gifted athletes at Hope House."
He doesn't bother to rise when I do, his boarding school manners deserting him as he leans back against his seat, still swirling his drink.
"Have a lovely afternoon." I smile, managing to walk out of the restaurant with some dignity, nodding to the hostess who glances quickly between me and Colin. I walk sedately down the street until I turn the corner and then I run, slipping just a bit in my heels, determined to get back to the center and regain some sanity that's been lost to me for the last hour and a half.
Checking our bank account the next day, I realize thatof course,the son of the bitch never made the promised donation.
Chapter Four
In which the Morozov brothers enjoy drinks and plotting world domination at the most notorious sex club in Manhattan.
Roman…
"If I didn't know any better, I would suspect Roman is actuallythinking," Alexsey says, idly rolling a pair of dice between his fingers.
Dmitri's eyes grow wide in faux surprise. "Yes little brother, it almost looks like he's having some sort of a dilemma."
"Amoraldilemma?" Alexsey gasps, before they burst into laughter.
"That's something that neither one of you will ever accuse me of," I say, looking around the room. It's still early for Sinful Secrets to be open. We're in the main room, it looks almost benign, long gray suede couches and an enormous bar stretching across one wall, where people gather before scattering off into the dark pleasures of the club.
"Let's get this over with. While I am enjoying watching Roman's agony as he attempts to circumvent his non-existent conscience," Dmitri says, "I need to get home to Ava and Lev."
"Who could have imagined, Dmitri turned into a family man?" I shake my head. "To be honest, I thought you were going to be one of those sad, elderlyPakhansthat would have to beforced into marriage at the age of fifty so that you could deliver offspring to continue the Morozov lineage."
Scratching the back of his neck, Dmitri half smiles. "To be honest, until Ava, that's what I thought too. But back to business, because I'm not interested in sitting here in your sex club once the clothes start flying off and tab A is fitted into slot B."
"I don't know," I attempt to look concerned. "Married life seems awfully dull if you're describing it in tabs and slots. Are you sure you don't want to stay and pick up a couple of pointers?"
Alexsey nearly chokes on his drink, trying to swallow and laugh at the same time at the look of outrage on our brother's face.
"Back to your moral dilemma." Dmitri tries to take control of the conversation again. "Tell us what you're struggling with."
"We haven't finished business," I deflect. "We should talk about the cartel and the shit fentanyl they've been running through their clubs. They're not in our territory yet, but they get stupider and bolder every day."
"I think you'll find that won't be a problem soon." Alexsey examines his fingernails. He has long, graceful fingers, and competent hands. My little brother is as good at stabbing someone as he is at painting a masterpiece. "I hear that tragically, their next shipment is as good as gone. Morales had to move his shipments clear up to Maine. I have the dock coordinates and the day. The police have been alerted to expect a call. Detectives Michaels and Connor always appreciate a little something from us, especially since that last bust earned them a commendation."
"It's deeply ironic that the Morozov Bratva has to do their crime fighting for them." Dmitri frowns. "But a reciprocal relationship with law-enforcement is always useful. Well done, Alexsey."
Alexsey nods graciously.
"Back to you Roman." Dmitri is gifted with an unerring ability to laser focus in on a perceived weakness or vulnerability and exploiting it, even if it's a member of his own family.
Especially if it's a member of his own family.
He knows I don't want to discuss this. And I know he's not letting go of it.
The servers are beginning to circulate through the reception room. "You two sure you don't want to stay for dinner?" I deflect again. "I poached Emil Schmit fromDecorousin London." I hold up two fingers, wiggling them. "Two Michelin stars. Two. I don't want to brag, but his lobster stew is delivering more orgasms than the rest of the club."
"That's a sad talking point for a sex club," Dmitri shakes his head.
The improbably named Angel, a fiery redhead with multiple piercings, strolls by me with a wink, but my mind goes back to the prim tidiness of Violet's little office.
"I had an interesting request," I admit reluctantly. "It was the night of the gala. I was approached by a civilian for a hit."
Dmitri put down his drink. "A civilian who knows enough about you to be clear this is your area of expertise?"
"She's a funny little thing," I chuckle, shaking my head. "She dressed up as a server that night to get my attention and lured me outside into the gardens. I thought I was there for a quickie,but she slapped my hand away, telling me she 'wasn't here for that'."
