“You act like anyone with a pussy is not to be trusted.”

“You act like you’ve met a lot who can be.”

Rather than answer, Roman kept his silence. A particularly odd reaction considering the two of them had been sparring about the same topic off and on for years.

Kir looked up from his ruminating and found Roman frowning at someone or something in the crowd behind Kir. Before he could turn and follow his gaze, Roman shifted his attention back to Kir. “Just because your mother was a bad seed doesn’t mean the entire gender is lacking.” He finished off his vodka, clinked the glass back down on the table and changed the topic. “So. How fast do you plan on settling yourself between a woman’s thighs tonight? Or should we just call one of the men and have them drive you to the retirement home early?”

Kir took the out and let the dig on his mother stay in the past where it belonged. “You’re just jealous you’re too much of a brute to appeal to the ladies.” He raised his drink and offered a mock salute. “Besides, now that Sergei’s settled down, one of us has to pick up the slack and keep the balance.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Keeping the balance?”

Kir shrugged, but he’d have given a lot to be free of the confines of his suit. “And enjoying myself.”

“Interesting.” Roman scanned the crowd again, his gaze sharper than normal. “Looks to me like you’re a man desperate to avoid the truth.”

Something wasn’t right.

While he wouldn’t exactly say Roman appeared uneasy, he’d also lost the relaxed demeanor of moments before. “What truth?”

Roman’s focus settled across the room for the briefest of seconds and his frown disappeared. He zeroed in on Kir. “That maybe Sergei had the right idea about settling down.”

A scoff ripped up Kir’s throat. “For me? Not a chance. Evette is a rare find. Our pakhan may have gotten lucky, but there’s no way in hell I’d risk what I have today for a woman.”

Roman cocked his head, and his voice dropped to that of a man edging close to a ticking bomb. “I seem to recall you breaking one of your precious rules for that reporter late last year.”

Kir studied the crowd around him. Loads of beautiful people out to celebrate the weekend’s arrival with good food, good drink, and good company.

Cassie McClintock was one of those beautiful people. Tall, short platinum-blonde hair and a lithe body with a megawatt smile that disarmed everyone. She was also funny and alluringly intelligent. The intoxicating mix had thrown him for a loop.

“I don’t have any rules,” Kir said.

“You’ve never given a woman your time or attention more than once, but you did for her. Now that I think on it, your eagerness to bed every woman in New Orleans increased shortly after your second round with her. Perhaps she scared you.”

Okay, maybe he did have rules. Carefully crafted protocols to ensure he never fell prey to the schemes he’d seen so many of the men he’d worked with succumb to. “I’m not interested in relationships. I only contacted her a second time to further our plans with Alfonsi. Not because I wanted anything more.” And never-ending summer would come to Russia before he ever admitted that he’d reached out to her repeatedly and been firmly shut out.