VladIt's taking every ounce of willpower I have in my body not to rise to Gino's bait. He wants to get me riled up, but I won't let him play me so easily. Calm. Control. Breathe. I feel the rage start to simmer back down, and my fist slowly unclenches.Then Gino goes one step too far."Cat got your tongue, Vladimir? You're as silent as your dead old man."Big. Fucking. Mistake.Burning fury hisses through my body. Inside, I'm a volcano erupting, anger pouring off of me like a wave. How dare this Italian fuck even mention my father? A million visions run through my head—slicing Gino to pieces, bleeding him out, dragging him down the highway behind my car—a million slow, painful deaths for his insolence, none less than he deserves. I want to lash out, to hurt him again and again.But losing my temper is exactly what Gino wants. I'm an inferno on the inside; outwardly, I keep my features calm. My voice is acid as I ask him, "What did you just say?""Maybe it's time for the Sokolov reign
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