Page 52 of Bratva's Mercy
“Relax,” Aistov shot back. “I can multitask. Besides, it’s my money to gamble with.”
The tension at the table tightened as the final cards were revealed, and chips piled even higher. I stayed in longer than I should have. When the hand ended, the dealer pushed the pot toward Aistov, who was not a gracious winner.
“That’s it for me,” I said, pushing my remaining cards forward.
Aistov’s brows lifted. “That’s it?”
“That’s it. I work too hard for you to take all my money.”
“Come on,” he pressed, leaning in again and ogling me up and down. “One more hand. I’m sure we can barter with something more interesting.”
“That’s a hard pass.”
Popov’s mouth twitched, like he was suppressing a smile. “I’m out too. Sergei, maybe we can have a drink?”
Well, that was fast. I hadn’t expected to have a one-on-one with any of them yet. They knew how close I was to Maxim, so they’d always been cautious around me.
“Sure. Why not?”
We left the table behind, Aistov still pouting and Gusev trying to distract him. We relocated to the bar that lined the far wall of the Diamond Club. It was quieter here, more intimate. Crystal shelves glowed undersoft lighting, showcasing top-shelf liquor that most people downstairs couldn’t even pronounce, much less afford.
“Mr. Popov.” The bartender, a beautiful strawberry blonde, seemed to come alive when she recognized the man next to me. “How nice to see you again. What can I get you, gentlemen?”
Popov smiled at her in acknowledgment and requested a scotch. I didn’t particularly feel like drinking, but I mirrored his mood and requested vodka as well.
“If there’s anything more you need,” the bartender said as she placed our drinks on the counter, “you know where to find me, Mr. Popov.”
The look she gave him was far from subtle. While on principle, I didn’t like the idea of a worker flirting with a patron, this kind of behavior was popular in scenes like these. As long as there was no coercion involved, I could look past it.
“You come here often then?” I asked Popov. He seemed familiar enough with the bartender, yet I hadn’t seen him before tonight, since I took over the club.
“From time to time.” He took a long gulp of his drink and nodded in the direction of the woman who kept glancing back at us. “Guess I left an impression on her.”
“You knew Vasiliev well then?”
“Do you ever really know someone as well as you think you do?” He gave a shrug. “We did some business between our territories, but he was always far braver than I was.”
“Do you think he would have approved of the changes I’ve made?”
“Who cares? You’re the brigadier now—one of us.”
He put down his drink and reached over to place his hand on mine on top of the counter. Revulsion crept into my stomach, and I had to fight the instinct to fling his away. I wasnever raised with affection, and I didn’t like touching people or being touched without a reason.
“You see, we’re a close bunch,” he continued, either oblivious to my discomfort or ignoring it. “We have to be in order to be successful at what we do. You need any help, I’m your guy. Unless you’re looking for a fuck—” A low laugh rasped through his throat. “In that case, Aistov’s your guy, but I have to warn you not to become attached. He gets bored easily.”
“He’s barking up the wrong tree.”
“He can be quite persistent.” Popov leaned his forearms against the bar, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp. “But seriously, you’ve moved from being head of security to running a territory. I don’t know whether that’s a promotion or a demotion. How’s it going?”
“It’s very different, that’s for sure,” I said with a grunt. “I’m quickly learning Maxim has two personalities, and I’m not used to the side of him that I have to answer to. Usually, he listens to me because it’s a matter of his safety.”
“This position is permanent, then?”
“Who knows? I’m still feeling it out.”
“Well, don’t knock it too early. Many perks come with running our own territory, and Morozov is fair. Once he gets his cut, he leaves us alone. He’s not like that bastard Arkady, who has spies watching his own spies.”
I took a sip of my drink and reveled in the burn going down. I wasn’t one for casual conversations, but I had prepared myself to engage with the right people because that was why I was in this position in the first place. These men needed to believe I was one of them. Only then could I get certain information out of them.
