RUSLAN
“Nosebleeds?”
“Minor blip. Nothing to worry about. We had a few bleeders in every trial.” My lead chemist drags his feet over to the pristine white lab table where sets of test tubes sit in neat arrays, each brimming with a white liquid. He hems and haws, flipping through his notebooks like the answers to my irritation will be found in there.
Fucking scientists. They’re brilliant.
They’re also a pain in my goddamn ass.
I clear my throat. “Sergey, humor me here. What is Venera?”
His hooded eyes blink in confusion. He knows I know the answer, because Venera is the billiondollar bet that will secure the future of the Oryolov Bratva; what he doesn’t know is why I’m asking.
“It’s, uh…it’s an aphrodisiac with mildly hallucinogenic properties.”
“Good job pretending I’m stupid. Keep
