Twisted desires
Nikolai Volkov, second-in-command of the Bratva, always answered the same way—flat, unimpressed, like Alessandro was wasting his time.
Alessandro smirked. “Let’s keep this short, Nikolai. I don’t have all night.”
Nikolai let out a low chuckle, devoid of humor. “No pleasantries? You did blow up four of our warehouses.”
Alessandro swirled the whiskey in his glass. “You say that like it wasn’t deserved.”
Silence.
Then, Nikolai’s voice sharpened. “You’ve made enemies, Moretti.”
Alessandro’s grip on the glass tightened. “I was born with them.”