The Monster (Steamy Shorts #13)

Chapter 8

8

NIKOLAI

I push open the door, stepping into the grand room where my four brothers gather. The whole space is filled with the sound of loud, unrestrained laughter, which abruptly dies the moment they notice me and is replaced by heavy silence.

Our three eldest—Ivan, Maxim, and Luca—are sprawled across the plush leather couches, their smiles quickly fading as they glance at each other.

My fourth brother, Lev, and the only one I’m close with, sits at the far end of the room, completely absorbed in a stack of papers. As always, he’s oblivious to the atmosphere and unaware of my presence.

“How’s married life, brother?” Ivan asks, breaking the silence and pouring his drink of choice—vodka—into his glass. His black curly hair slides to his forehead, and he impatiently shoves it back, his black eyes unfocused. If I have to assume, it’s not his first drink of the day, and it’s not yet lunchtime.

“Can’t complain,” I say, which is true. Not that I want to elaborate it to them or even talk about my wife. I sit on the nearest single-seater couch and prop my elbows on my knees, weaving my fingers together.

“You have to be careful, brother,” Ivan says, his speech slurring, his gaze wandering. “If she’s anything like her mother, she’s going to be fucking the gardener soon.”

Maxim and Luca, even though they only tolerate me at best, turn away, looking like they want to be anywhere else but here. Ivan’s comments suck the air out of the room, and the familiar rush of fury courses through my veins. My vision turns red, and the pounding in my temples becomes louder and heavier.

“Say that again, Ivan.” My voice is low, and every one of them—the sober ones, that is—knows what this means. In the corner of my eye, I see Lev put down the papers and watch, ready to swoop in.

“What? You didn’t hear me the first time?”

“Ivan, stop it,” Maxim hisses and turns to me, his blue eyes narrowing. “He’s drunk, Niko. Let it go.”

“Why are you acting like you didn’t think the same thing, Max?” Ivan spits, stumbling forward, a mocking grin across his flushed face. “Your wife’s mother is a whore; everyone knows that. And we all know the apple doesn’t fall?—”

My jaw tightens, the burn of anger rising in my chest. The words hit their mark, and I am not going to sit here while he speaks this way about Nina.

I move way too fast for any of them to react, grabbing Ivan by the throat and shoving him against the backrest. His eyes bulge out of their sockets as he claws at my hands. Maxim, Luca, and Lev all try to pull me from him to no avail.

“You insult me all you want, Ivan, but never ever say a word about my wife, or I will put you in so much pain, you’ll be begging me for your death,” I snarl.

“Niko, let him go.” Luca tugs on my arm, but I shrug him off. There’s a reason why I’m the one they send to scare our enemies.

“Are you threatening me?” Ivan throws me a smile, meant to look like he’s amused, but I see the moment the fog of intoxication starts to lift, his eyes sharpening.

“You’ve known me for thirty-two years, Ivan.” The anger burns through the last shreds of my self-control. “I never make threats.”

Ivan blinks a few times, as if trying to clear away the last remnants of his drunkenness. His neck flexes as he swallows hard. “All this for a woman?”

I shove him again and let go, the other three giving me a wide berth. They all know I don’t lose my temper—not when they taunt me, make fun of me, or outright insult me. I always keep my cool.

But talking about Nina is an entirely different matter.

“She’s not just any woman. She’s my wife.” I whirl around and walk away, casting a glare over my shoulder as I reach the doorway. “You’d do well to remember that.”