“Beautiful, smart, and loyal. You’re lucky man, and it’s time you found worthy woman.” He clapped Ronin on the shoulder. “But I digress! I need favor. For my son.”

Ronin said, “I’m listening.”

“My son’s mother.” He sighed with gusto. “Beautiful, passionate Russian woman. So passionate we have child together.”

“Did you marry her?”

“Nyet. Discovered crazy passion often just masks crazy.”

Amery withheld a laugh.

“But good thing to come from that crazy woman is my son, Ivan. He loves to fight. He lives to fight, which makes me happy. His mama? Not so much.”

“Still waiting for the punch line, Max.”

“Ivan would like to train as MMA fighter. Your dojo is best; you have program for amateurs, and he perfect fit.”

Amery felt the tension pouring off Ronin, but nothing in his demeanor gave it away to Stanislovsky.

“You do TP favor for his daughter—poof, no more favors.”

“You’re offering me the same deal?”

“I’m telling you; I took care of your pest problem on Baldwin Street. As favor to you. This? What I ask in return.”

“Black Arts trains your son.”

Stanislovsky nodded. “Ivan is good boy. He needs guidance. Focus isn’t problem since he’s trained in sambo in Russia. He needs a challenge.”

“Why not put him to work in one of your businesses?”

“No interest at this point in the . . . what you call it? Family ball and chain? Like you and Okada, eh?”

“Not exactly,” Ronin said wryly.

“Ivan has time to learn business later. Only young and tough for so many years. Which I hear you recently learned firsthand, my drugh?”

“Yes.”

“Here’s my offer. You take my son on. He pays MMA fight club fees same as others. Pays for personal training same as others. Earns his place on team same as others. He wants to prove himself. I respect that. I believe you respect that. He respects you as much as I do.”

Wow. Serious flattery.

“How old is Ivan, and will he need an interpreter?” In an aside to Amery, Ronin said, “I don’t deal with Max’s Russian compatriots because few of them speak English. Max knows this about me.”

“Ivan is twenty-two. He’s American citizen. His mother returned to Russia when he was ten, so over the years he’s had boot on American soil half year and boot on Russian soil half year. He is fluent in English and Russian.”

Ronin let a minute-long pause linger, where neither he nor Stanislovsky broke eye contact. Talk about a mind f**k.

“All right. You have a deal. With two stipulations. You don’t interfere. Ever. This is between Black Arts and Ivan—not me and you. Also, make sure Ivan understands he won’t be training only with me in the MMA club.”

“Of course.”

“Have him call next week and set up an interview time.”

Stanislovsky grinned. “Done. You good man, Ronin Black. I look forward to watching my son’s dream come true.” They did the Russian hand clasp, chest bump thing again. Then his eyes flitted over Ronin’s shoulder and his gaze filled with lust. “Such a lovely flower gracing your party. Introduce me.” A demand, not a request.

Amery and Ronin both turned. Amery expected Stanislovsky’s slavering gaze to be on Katie, but his focus was entirely on Shiori.

“No f**king way, Ruskie. That’s my sister.”

His gray eyes lit up. “Ah. Perfect. The Okada heir won’t be after me for my money since she has no need of it.”

“Not. Happening. Ever.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know you’re in the middle of another divorce.”

“Then I am free to pursue her with all the romance we Russians are known for, eh?” He adjusted his tie. “Take me to her.”

“Not on your life. Jesus, Max. You’re too f**king old for her.”

“Love knows no age, my drugh.”

Ronin snorted. “Lust knows no boundaries when it comes to you.”

One of the bodyguards leaned in and spoke to Stanislovsky. He nodded. “Sadly, it will have to wait. Other matters need my attention.” He offered Ronin a salute and a bow before whipping around and marching out the door.

Amery stared after him. “Is he for real?”

“Yes. He’s more eccentric than TP, but both men wield an insane amount of power in this town.”

“And you’re friends with them. You’ve done favors for both of them.” She paused. “You told me how you ended up knowing TP, but how’d you end up on Stanislovsky’s radar?”

Ronin looked around to make sure no one was within earshot. “Because of TP. Those two have a . . . friendly rivalry. They back each other, but they’re also fierce competitors. So when I started having problems with the construction crews I’d hired to gut the dojo building, Max’s crew just showed up and took over. They did the work for half the money in half the amount of time.”

“But then you owed Stanislovsky favors.”

He nodded. “Max has little tact. He bulldozes his way into things and can’t figure out why he’s gotten stuck. I’ve helped him get unstuck a time or fifty.”

“Dangerous stuff?”

“Not bad. He has his own Russian leg breakers on his payroll, but there’ve been times when he’s needed security with discretion. Or he’s needed a diversion from his activities and certain businesses. I’ve assisted him with that.”