Tempted by Deception (Deception Trilogy #2) by Rina Kent

Kolya and Yan grow silent when we arrive at Sergei’s mansion. I step out, doing the first button of my shirt. Since I spent last night watching and exploring Lia’s apartment, I didn’t get any sleep.

That’s not a first.

I’ve spent all-nighters watching my screens and emailing my hackers, back and forth until I got the information I needed.

My abnormal sleeping schedules started after that day—the day my own mother broke my arm because it would help her get my father to her side. I didn’t trust that she wouldn’t do it again, that to become Georgy Volkov’s wife, she wouldn’t use me, over and over, to get in his favor.

She did succeed and became the lady of the house, even when most of my father’s guards loathed her.

Since that night, though, I’ve always slept with one eye open in case she shows up at my door and takes the life she gave as she promised.

Yan stays by the entrance with several other high-ranked guards of the other brigade leaders. He’s offering Mikhail’s soldier a smoke and teasing Kirill’s, asking how that female-looking guard—Aleksander—got to be Kirill’s second-in-command and not him. Yan sometimes acts like a clown, jabbing and teasing, but his sole purpose is to get deets from them.

He might be reckless, but he understands my philosophy well and plots accordingly. It’s one of the few reasons I keep him close.

Kolya follows me inside the Pakhan’s dining room and it’s clear that we’re the last to arrive.

Sergei sits at the head of the table, Vladimir on his left, while my chair on his right is empty. Mikhail, Igor, Kirill, and Damien occupy the rest of the seats. Their senior guards stand behind them like sturdy walls, all scowling, sometimes at nothing, other times at each other, depending on whether their bosses are making a fuss.

“Adrian.” Sergei doesn’t hide his bewilderment upon seeing me. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“I thought I should have breakfast with you, Pakhan.”

“Yes, yes. Come.”

“Very benevolent of you to show us your noble face, Sir Volkov,” Damien mumbles.

“It’s a surprise, indeed.” Kirill takes a sip of his coffee, watching me from beneath his glasses. I can feel his head spinning in a thousand directions to analyze why I showed up today.

I ignore them both and take my seat. Soon after, a maid rushes in with a cup of black coffee and places it in front of me before leaving.

There are different pastries, along with eggs, ham, and bacon on the table, and I have no doubt it’s to appease Damien’s gluttony, because his mouth is chewing something as we speak.

“Where were we?” Igor continues, ignoring my cutting him off. He’s a pillar of the brotherhood and has been around since my father’s time.

He has some of my father’s traits—namely, ruthlessness—but unlike Georgy Volkov, Igor Petrov is wiser and knows which cards to play and which to keep hidden. He, Kirill, and Vladimir are the ones I watch the most. They’re calm on the surface, but when they hit, no one sees it coming.

“Strengthening our alliance with the Italians,” Mikhail grumbles with clear impatience.

“I think we should watch some more before making any decisions,” Kirill says casually.

Damien points his fork at him. “Watching is for losers, Kirill.”

“Watching allows us to read others,” the latter shoots back.

“Action lets us take care of them.” Damien’s eyes gleam with the promise of violence.

“Leave your fists out of the equation for once, Orlov,” Igor reprimands him.

“My fists brought us new territories, so how about you take my example and awaken your own fists, old man. You, too, Mikhail. You’re pussy-whipped by your whoring business.”

“You fucking—”

“Orlov,” Sergei scolds, cutting Mikhail off.

“What?” Damien swallows his mouthful of pastry and licks his fingers. “Just stating facts, Pakhan.”

“Learn some respect.”

“Respect is earned, not learned.” He grabs a muffin and points at me with it. “Look at Volkov here being a mute little princess, but everyone at this table will stop and listen when he actually speaks.”

I lift my coffee to my lips and take a sip, paying him no attention. Maybe showing up here was a mistake after all. I could’ve worked out with Kolya, Yan, and the rest of my guards to ward off the tension. Now, I’m forced to participate in their endless—and as usual, useless—fights.

“Do you have anything to say, Adrian?” Kirill asks in his suave voice.

“About?”

“The Italians. You’ve been looking into them, haven’t you?”

“I’m getting to know the Luciano family’s dynamics, yes, but I’m not close enough to make any statements.” I stare at Sergei. “The Pakhan will know if I make any progress.”

“I don’t like to rush you,” the Vor says. “But we need the Lucianos, Adrian.”

“They’re making deals with the Colombian cartel and we need in,” Vladimir elaborates as if I don’t know that already.

Just because I don’t attend morning meetings, doesn’t mean I’m not privy to the brotherhood’s affairs. I have a direct line with Sergei, as I previously did with his brother, Nikolai. Nothing is discussed at this table before the Pakhan asks for my opinion about it.