“Meaning don’t fuck with me, Maxim.”
“Santo, that sounds very much like a threat,” I said.
“I wouldn’t threaten an old friend, but tread carefully,” he said.
“Careful, Santo,” I said.
“I could say the same to you. How’s your friend Senna? I still have the scar where that bitch scratched me,” he said.
I had expected this, thought I had prepared for it, but hearing her name in his voice set me on fire with rage.
Sergei rocketed out of his chair, but I lifted a hand, keeping my eyes on Santo until Sergei sat down. I stayed silent, watched as Santo grew more nervous. Then, finally, I spoke.
“If you utter her name or dare call her out of it, I will feed you your own tongue.” I didn’t raise my voice, made no motion, but even Sergei glanced at me, seemingly impressed by the menace that laced each word. I heard that menace too, but it didn’t even begin to convey the anger that now coursed through me.
Santo blanched, probably remembering well that I didn’t make idle threats.
Then I turned, walked away with Sergei at my side.
We got into the waiting car and Adrian pulled off.
“What the fuck was that?” Sergei said.
I looked at him. “You have to ask?”
“Yeah, I have to ask. You should have cut that fucker’s head off,” Sergei said.
I glanced at him with disgust, my own anger sapping away some of my patience.
“And you want to know why you’re not in charge of your own territory,” I said. This moment was again proving how right that decision had been.
“But he insulted Senna,” Sergei said.
“Should I feed you your tongue?” I snapped. I didn’t need Sergei to remind me of the insult, or how I should have responded to it.
“Sorry, Maxim,” Sergei said.
His apology didn’t placate me, couldn’t, not when I was still grappling with the anger at the insult to Senna, how I had done nothing about it.
“That’s part of the reason why you aren’t in charge,” I said. “If you say something, mean it. If you take issue with something I do, say so and prepare to deal with the consequences,” I said.
“Yeah. So why is Santo’s head still attached to his shoulders?” he said, changing the subject.
“For now, keeping Santo in place is beneficial. When it no longer is, I’ll handle him,” I said, nearly choking on the bitter words, the rationality of my choice not lessening my anger.
“And that shit about Senna? You’re going to let that stand?” he said.
The rage at Santo’s words rocked through me anew, but I bit it back.
“An empty threat, an attempt to rattle me. One that clearly worked on you,” I said.
“You’re fucking right it did. That piece of shit shouldn’t speak her name,” Sergei said.
“No, he shouldn’t, and he will be punished for that. But I won’t let Santo have me acting out of anger,” I said.
“Punished? How?” Sergei said.
“Adrian,” I said. He didn’t speak but met my eyes in the rearview mirror. “When you collect payments tonight, take one hundred percent,” I said.
Sergei raised a brow. “One hundred percent?”
“He’s getting off easy. Maybe he’ll remember to choose his words more carefully,” I said.
Sergei laughed. “Sneaky fucker,” he said.
I gave a brief smile but then went still and stayed silent. I wanted to seek some diversion, but there was none, because the only thing I could think about was her, about what I’d seen had meant. Unfamiliar anxiety ate at the back of my mind, and I knew that the only thing that would calm it was seeing her. Maybe seeing her would give that moment in the shower context, would convince me once and for all that whatever I thought I’d seen, I hadn’t, would allow us to go back to normal.
When I got to her room, I reached for the doorknob and turned it.
Stopped cold when I found the door locked.
I looked down at the offending portal, turned the knob again, disbelief morphing into anger when it still didn’t open.
She’d never done this, not once in ten years. I couldn’t believe she’d done it now. And I wouldn’t let it stand.
I leaned against the door and shouldered it open. My gaze landed on Senna, who sat holding a book with her legs folded under her. As she stared at me, she dropped the book and stood, her eyes never leaving me.
* * *
Senna
It had been a long, frustrating day, and looking at Maxim now, I knew it wasn’t over yet. I’d wanted to see him, had waited around to do so, but as the hours had passed, I’d become more and more self-conscious.
I hadn’t been able to shake the memory of being in the shower, bringing myself pleasure as I’d thought of him. That was enough to have me shaken, but it alone had not been the source of my self-consciousness. Even though I knew it wasn’t possible, I hadn’t been able to get the idea of Maxim listening, watching, out of my head.