I shrug a shoulder. Killing Edrik is at the top of my list of things to do anyway, so if she tells him, it will not be such a loss. Kirill is dead, so Edrik finding out my identity is not of any consequence anymore.
“Go ahead.” My gaze meets hers calmly. “Then I kill him and you. Win-win.”
Her face pales for a moment, eyes wide as the cogs in her mind turn, wondering if my threat is real.
“You—you wouldn’t,” she sputters. “You don’t kill women.”
“Eh.” I tip my hand back and forth slightly. “There are exceptions to every rule.”
The ding of the elevator catches my attention, and I bite back a broad smile. I wondered how long it would take my wife to find her way up here. She has been on the ops floor for the last half an hour, and she was bound to see me getting off the elevator with Serena and come find us, claws bared.
She doesn’t disappoint.
“Matthias.” Serena captures my attention again. She leans back against the desk, her legs splayed open slightly, giving me a glimpse between her thighs that I have no interest in seeing. One hand rests on the sturdy oak of my desk while the other lightly trails down the middle of her chest. Not even Valerie’sgirls are this desperate looking. “I’m sure I could make it worth your while.”
“Not interested,” I deadpan, scrunching my nose, and waving her off.
“If you would just…” Serena is suddenly cut off by the sound of the door opening.
“Well,” Ava’s sweet voice is music to my ears. “This is a surprise.”
Now it is time to play.
forty-one
She is leaning against his desk, her raven hair tossed over her shoulders as she pushes her fake water wigglers out in a desperate attempt to catch my husband’s attention. The dress she wears barely covers her liposuctioned ass. Matthias stands a few feet away from her, a heavy crystal glass in one hand that is nearly empty, and his hardened gaze fixed on her overly scalpeled face.
“I didn’t realize we employed whores when the sun was out.” Matthias turns toward me as I stride into his office. He isn’t the least bit surprised to see me.
Serena sneers at me, her eyes narrowing, but then it is gone, replaced by a fake smile and taunting eyes.
“And you are?” The question would have been innocent if we hadn’t already met. If she hadn’t put her lips on my husband at the gala.
“My wife,” Matthias tells her before I get the chance. “The one I’ve told you about.”
“Oh?” Serena’s mouth drops open slightly, eyes wide. The perfect picture of innocence. “I don’t remember you saying you had a wife.”
She is good, I will give her that, but my husband is a master of facial expressions. A human lie detector test, and I have picked up on a few things here and there. I know full well he told her we were married the night of the gala.
“Wow, you’re good,” I applaud her mockingly. “But not that good. Your left shoulder shrugs a bit when you lie.”
Serena huffs, dropping her façade, and stands straighter, shoulders rolling back as she transforms before my eyes into the woman I saw the night of the gala. Cold and calculating.
“Perceptive little bitch, I see,” she snarls. Matthias growls at the insult, but I am one step ahead of him. I spring forward, my hand snatching up her perfectly placed locks, ensnaring them in my grasp. Serena gasps in pain when I wrench her head down. Her back arches uncomfortably, acrylic claws digging into my arm as I all but drag her toward the open balcony.
Swinging her around to face me, I drop the hand in her hair in favor of her neck and push her body against the metal railing of the balcony until her feet come off the ground and stark fear crawls into her face.
“Let’s get one thing straight, Serena.” My voice is calm and steady, as if I am talking to a friend instead of hanging a whore partway off a railing thirty floors up. “I’m not a bitch. Or a whore. Or any of the other colorful names you are probably calling me in your head right now. My name is Ava Dashkov,Pakhanof the Seattle Bratva, wife of Matthias Dashkov, and I want you to remember that when you address me.”
“I—” I tighten my hand around her throat.
“I’m still talking.” She quiets immediately. “I am well aware of how you tried to blackmail Matthias at the gala for the information you have on where his mother is buried, and I haveno doubt you were trying to be just as salacious in his office a minute ago.”
She shakes her head, panic seizing her features as she tries to deny it.
“I really do hate liars,” I scold and shove her a little farther up the railing.
“No!” she cries out, her feet swinging wildly as she claws at my hand around her throat viciously. “Please. You don’t know who my father is.”