THE ESCORT

TWENTY - SEVEN | KINKY BASTARD

"Please, be seated."

Nikolai took his seat first, then Blue eyes followed suit. It was only then Angelo and Elodie sat on the remaining free two seater, which also happened to be a few inches away from Medvedev's right side.

Elodie couldn't stop looking at the man, though. His bright, cold eyes. The indecipherable tattoos that spanned the length of the back of his palms.

If Medvedev truly committed those crimes Luca accused him of before Angelo murdered him, then it meant he was a free man. No agency in the world had been able to capture this man despite knowing just how dangerous he was and the heinous crimes he'd done.

Briefly, a feeling a fear and despair washed over Elodie; because if she was caught by these people, she had no doubt that she'd become fish-food, too.

"Arcangelo Casieri," Medvedev said, gaze locked with his enemy's. "You're one tough man to get ahold of."

"As you are, Vasily."

Medvedev's laugh was totally unnecessary, and it sent shivers down her spine. "I heard you've managed to conquer Manhattan just three weeks ago." He hummed, wide chest rising and falling. "Would you care to share how you did just that?"

Angelo leaned into his chair, feeling more at home than he should be in front of this man. Elodie couldn't relax, and wondered just how Angelo was able to do that.

"Like any good sorcerer, I keep my secrets to myself."

Medvedev lifted his tumbler to his lips and downed the remaining liquid in it, then placed the empty glass on the stool beside him. "Why do you want the Tsar Bomba?"

Elodie barely managed to hold back her gasp at how blatantly they were discussing this in front of them (the women). She'd not also been expecting him to ourightly ask Angelo that he knew the reason why he was here.

Angelo, on his part, didn't tense up, nor did his lounging pose change. "Why do you have it?"

Blue eyes gaze ping-ponged between them as though he was watching a tennis match, while his left palm lazy stroked the thigh of the dark blonde haired woman beside him.

"I think we both know why we all want to get our hands on the Tsar Bomba," Nikolai interjected, lazily twirling an unlit Cuban cigar between his index finger and thumb. "To hold it means to hold the power of the world."

"But, sadly, it's too much power for one man to control, isn't it?" Medvedev's words were more statement than a question.

"Why do you have it with you, then?" That was Angelo.

"So many questions," Medvedev hummed, raising a brow. "But very few answers."

For a few seconds, no one said anything, then Blue-eyes  broke the silence: "Vasily, I do hope you realize that doing business with the Castra Nostra is pointless. Plus, Angelo has many men after him."

"We all have our enemies," Nikolai cut in sharply. "As you do, Igor. We should be looking for a way forward and not back."

"But—"

One finger raise from Medvedev cut off whatever he was about to say, and Blue—Igor—resigned himself to petting his companion.

"Before we discuss business any further, Casieri, may I inquire the reason as to why you killed one of my men?"

Luca, E2 supplied helpfully, he's talking about that sad maggot.

"He infringed on my turf." Angelo's eyes were narrowed now. "And I did hear some interesting things about how you run your operations both in Russia and wherever your  Organizatsya owns."