Page 61 of The Mad Don
“Yana,” she whispers. “I— I think Fabiano?—”
She doesn’t complete it. But I nod at her — something is fishy about Fabiano.
Chapter Sixteen
Giovanni
The tea shop is quiet at this hour. I have taken the table at the back, against the wall, where I can see the door, and the door cannot surprise me.
Kirill comes in alone in a long coat. The bell over the door rings, and he does not so much as flick his eyes toward it. He scans the place in an unhurried pass: the counter, the two exits, the table I have chosen, then comes over to me, pulls out the chair across from me, and lowers himself into it.
“Pakhan,” I say. “Good to meet you.”
“How did you get my private number?”
I grin and pour him a cup. The steam rises between us. He watches the tea fill the cup. He does not reach for it.
“What about Yana?”
I keep pouring. My grip tightens on the pot’s handle, but I make my hand loosen before it shows.
Why is he asking about her? Isn’t she just one of his many bodyguards?
He has a wife and a son. And yet one of the first things out of his mouth across a table sounds like I am holding a precious asset. A woman like her does not let a man stay neutral about her. It seems not even a man like Kirill.
Is this why her body struggles to accept me?
I set the pot down and made my face pleasant.
“She is fine.”
He sits back. His hands fold loosely on the table. He has not touched the tea.
“So why am I here? I’ll hand you the access in under two weeks. We have nothing to discuss.”
He came just because he was worried about her? Good gracious, Lupa, you seem to have your way with men’s minds.
I lift my own cup and drink. Through the window, I can see two of his men loitering near my car, a third further down the street with his hands in his pockets, and a sedan idling at the curb thatis not mine. He came ready. I grin because I would have thought less of him if he hadn’t.
“Yana has been trying to cut a deal on your behalf,” I say. “Did you know that? Even with a gun to her head, she negotiates for you. She asked us to split the routes.” I let the smile widen. “She is very loyal. I wonder how to get that type of loyalty. I envy you,Pakhan.”
How do I make her loyal to me? Her body, her soul… her heart. How do I make it only me?
He studies my face line by line but says nothing.
“I need your help,” I say.
He laughs. It’s a short exhale through the nose.
“Why would I help you? You strong-armed me into a deal at gunpoint with my wife and son’s lives.” His voice doesn’t rise. “Do you imagine I don’t hold a grudge?”
I drink my tea.
“I think my second has been compromised.”
The air in the room changes. He doesn’t move, but something behind his eyes sharpens. He knows what those words cost a man like me to say out loud. For us, the second is the left arm. Ifthe left arm has turned, you are already sabotaged, and the only question left is how much.
He shrugs, a slow roll of one shoulder.
