Our meetings to discuss brotherhood business are the least of my concerns now.
Or most of the time, really.
I have my role to play, and it’s behind the scenes. The decisions the Pakhan makes are directly influenced by my opinion that’s backed up with my intel.
My rise in the brotherhood’s ranks to become one of its most indispensable pillars didn’t happen by sheer luck. I didn’t come this far due to using force like Damien or by manipulation like Kirill.
It was by logic.
I realized early on that to keep rising in the Bratva, I needed systems in place. Trusted men—Kolya and Yan, though the latter is pushing it. Hackers. Informants within every organization possible.
While those elements were in place during my father’s time, they weren’t utilized to their full capability. I changed that and made them the strongest part of the brotherhood.
Power isn’t barking orders and raising guns. It’s not declaring wars and commanding hits in a show of masculinity.
True power simmers underneath, hushed in low tones and feared in public.
That’s what I’ve become. The one whose shadow everyone feels, even when I’m not present, whether in the brotherhood or outside of it.
They might not like me—and many don’t—but they fear me. Due to my systems, they don’t know whether I have footage of them in compromising positions. At an unauthorized meeting with a cartel boss in South America. On a yacht sailing in the Mediterranean Sea that they embezzled from their organization. At the mayor’s house, fucking him and his wife when they should’ve been merely keeping an eye on them.
It’s easy to watch everyone from the confines of my home. The system I spent a long time building works seamlessly, without me having to interject in its course anymore.
Once my enemies—and so-called brothers—know I’m powerful enough to crush them, they don’t dare cross me. Some of them still try to wipe me away now and again, but thanks to my system, the hackers, and Kolya, they fail.
They got close once. Only once. And I’ll figure out the reason my system failed in that instance if it’s the last thing I do.
Due to my invisible role in the brotherhood, I don’t particularly need to attend the meetings. Something that the other members of the elite group keep reproaching me about. But the previous Pakhan, Nikolai, and the current one, his brother, Sergei, have always exempted me of the chore of being present. They’re smart enough to recognize that I’m better off putting my system into use and bringing them results.
Or, at least, I thought Sergei did.
While he’s been acceptant of my way of doing things, his recent suspicions of me are troublesome. Now, I have to prove my loyalty all over again, but I can’t be obvious about it, because that will raise his alarms even more.
We’re at his mansion that’s situated on the outskirts of Brooklyn. This house has been used as the brotherhood’s compound in New York for decades. When my father brought me here as a kid, I thought it was a monster, but way less monstrous than our own house.
I sit on Sergei’s right at the meeting table, cradling a glass of cognac I haven’t been drinking from. The Pakhan is in his sixties and has been hiding his cancer from the brotherhood. I’d already figured it out soon after he did.
Yes, I even have spies on my own Pakhan. People overflow with secrets and it’s those secrets that keep me one step ahead of them. The men here use guns as their weapons. Mine is information. It’s deadlier, faster, and more efficient.
The reason I haven’t brought Sergei down using his weakness—the cancer—is because that will cause a power shift. While I don’t give a fuck about instigating chaos, I’m not in the mood to deal with it at a time like this.
Only the higher-ups in the brotherhood are allowed to attend breakfast at the Pakhan’s house. Out of respect, the number of guards present is limited to our senior soldiers. Kolya stands behind me as sure and as strong as a mountain. Yan remains outside.
The other four kings occupy the rest of the seats. Igor and Mikhail are from Sergei’s time, so they’re ancient and would rather speak Russian than English. The other two, Kirill and Damien, have lived in America long enough to speak in barely accented English.
I’m in the middle. A Russian bastard of sorts.
Two other members join us. The first is Rai, Sergei’s grandniece, the previous Pakhan’s granddaughter, and the only woman who has enough balls to barge into a brotherhood meeting.
She’s now a regular, even though she’s three months pregnant. Her belly is starting to show, but that doesn’t deter her from coming in here like she has every right to.
She doesn’t. And if she were any other woman, she would’ve been banished, but her relation to the previous and the current Pakhan keep most of the men here from effectively kicking her out.
It might also have to do with her husband, who’s sitting by her side. He’s a hitman—a sniper, at that—and everyone knows not to provoke him, especially when it comes to her.
The reason I want to shoot her between the eyes isn’t due to her being a woman, or because she’s been actively trying to eliminate my spies from V Corp, the brotherhood’s legitimate front in which she’s the executive director. It’s because she meddled in something she shouldn’t have.
She’s the reason I lost Lia, and I won’t stop until I know why.
As Sergei talks about our recent clash with the Irish and a possible truce with their new younger leader, I keep staring at the empty chair on his left. Vladimir’s.
He doesn’t miss meetings. I do. So his absence not only confirms Kirill’s words, but it also means that Vladimir is going above and beyond for this.
“What do you think, Adrian?” Sergei asks me.
“The Irish won’t accept an alliance this soon after our recent dispute. We killed many of their men and that doesn’t go away by a mere change of leadership. We should give them time,” I say, as if I’ve been listening to everything they’ve been talking about. I excel in the art of deception. I have since I was a kid.
My parents made sure of it.
After a nod from Sergei, the meeting goes on about some strategies that I let filter past me. I’m waiting for a chance to ask about Vladimir without being obvious about it.
While my system is efficient, Vladimir knows about it and, therefore, he’s able to evade it. Not entirely, but even that small gap is enough to distort my course of action. I can’t make any decisions before I know what he’s up to. Otherwise, they’d be ineffective stabs in the dark that could—and would—backfire against me.
As soon as Kirill mentions something about a drug shipment aid, I take a sip of my drink and speak casually, “Shouldn’t Vladimir help?”
“Vladimir is busy with something else,” Sergei says with a dismissive hand. “Damien, you help.”
“But that’s boring, Pakhan,” the latter whines like a kid who can’t play with his toys—aka guns.
“Are you telling me no?”
“Of course not. I’m happy to be of service.” He sighs and retrieves a cigarette, then mutters under his breath to Kirill, “Fucker.”
Kirill merely smirks as he adjusts his black-framed glasses with his middle finger.
“What is Vladimir busy with?” I ask flat out, to which Kirill raises a brow. He knows I don’t prefer direct conflict unless it’s absolutely necessary.
“You’ll all know when I allow it.” Sergei stands, signaling the end of the meeting. “We’ll talk more on Igor’s birthday that I’ll be hosting in his honor. Everyone is invited.”
“Yes, Pakhan.” All the others agree.
Instead of leaving, Sergei faces me, fixating on me with a solemn expression. “Bring Lia, too.”
“She’s been unwell,” I say calmly, even though a part of me is inching to an ignition point.
“She can’t be too unwell to attend the birthday of Igor by the invitation of the Pakhan himself.” He figuratively twists my arm with his purposeful words.
“Yes, Adrian.” Rai joins her granduncle, speaking in perfect American. “Bring Lia. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
I don’t miss the way she says ‘a lot.’ I could bring my gun out, shoot her and her granduncle in the face, and torture her guards for answers. But that would get me killed by the rest of the men here or their guards, and I can’t die just yet.
“Make sure she’ll be there,” Sergei orders in a tone that doesn’t allow for negotiations.
“Yes, Pakhan,” I say nonchalantly, almost as if I’m completely fine with the prospect of bringing Lia when she’s not ready at all.
Sergei leaves, followed by everyone else except for Kirill, who deliberately stays behind. It’s only the two of us, Kolya, and his senior guard, Aleksander, who’s tall but slim and has the face of a woman or a pubescent teenage boy.
Kirill readjusts his black-framed glasses, his lips moving in a sardonic smile. “Asking about dear Vladimir was reckless, Adrian. I don’t know you to be reckless.”
“Sometimes, the best defense is a good offense.”
“And sometimes, straight out offense makes you show all your cards.”
“You don’t need to worry, Morozov. I have more cards to reveal.”
His lips tilt in an ugly smirk. “Don’t threaten me when I can be your ally, Adrian.”
I rise and Kolya moves on standby beside me. “I don’t need allies.”
“That’s what you say now, but there will be a day where you will change your mind.”
“Doubt it.”
“You want to bet?”
“Try again in ten years, Morozov.”
He chuckles. “Save my number, Volkov. You might need it.” His voice echoes after me as I head to the entrance.
As soon as I’m in the car and Yan drives out of the property, I tell Kolya, “I want eyes on Kirill.”
“We already have someone who’s following him.”
“I want someone else. Make it three people if need be.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Aleksander, too. Follow him.”
“Consider it done.”
“What happened?” Yan meets my gaze through the rear-view mirror, then slides it to Kolya before focusing back on the road.
I tap my finger against my thigh. “Kirill knows something, or else he wouldn’t be acting smug.”
Silence falls on the car before Yan says in a low voice, “Do you think he knows about Mrs. Volkov?”
“I’m not sure, but whatever he knows needs to be known to me as well. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir,” they both say.
I spend most of my day in my office at V Corp checking financial reports to keep my head from spiraling into unwanted directions. But at the same time, I come up with solutions. That’s what I do when I’m overcome by work. I think and allow my mind to go into overdrive.
I try to corner Rai, but apparently, she has a doctor’s appointment today and went home early.
There will be another day and she will answer to me no matter what methods I have to use.
I lose track of time and only realize it’s ten in the evening when Kolya informs me of the fact. I’ve been so focused on finding a solution that would allow Lia to skip Igor’s birthday that I forgot about her.
That’s incorrect.
It’s not that I forgot about her. I merely tried to push her out of my immediate thoughts, because if I keep her there, I won’t get anything done.
Especially after the way she came all over my fingers after a few spankings. She unraveled wholly, without restraint, as if she’s been waiting for my touch all this time.
The sight of blood on her lips won’t leave my mind, the way she muffled her voice still gets on my last nerve.
It’ll change.
She will change.
Kolya, Yan, and I reach home around ten-thirty. I don’t bother finding Ogla, because now that I’m not actively trying to keep Lia out of my thoughts, she’s the only thing that’s occupying my brain.
I go to our bedroom and freeze in the doorway. She’s not there. After searching in the bathroom, I come up empty-handed.
For a second, I remain rooted there on the spot, thinking of where she could have gone. She couldn’t have left the property, because Ogla or my guards would’ve informed me of the fact. I know that, but the possibility is tugging on the vacant place in my chest.
She’s here. I know she is. I can feel her presence in the walls of the house, can see it without having to try hard.
I stride to Jeremy’s room, and when I open the door, the sight before me leaves me open-mouthed. Lia is sleeping on my son’s bed, holding him to her chest.
His tiny fingers are wrapped around her waist and a small smile grazes his sleepy face.
The room is all sorts of chaotic, as if an army of children played here. His toy soldiers are scattered on the floor, surrounded by a dozen drawings and colorful scarfs.
Did she spend the entire day with Jeremy?
My gaze slides to them again, to the way her jean shorts ride up her bare thighs and how her top hugs her waist, revealing her belly button.
The whole look is unusual, but that didn’t stop my dick from hardening this morning—or from starting to right now.
I hear soft footsteps at my back and I don’t bother to turn around as Ogla stops behind me.
“She came in here after you left, sir.”
“What did they do?”
“They played, then they drew, and then they…”
My focus slides to her for a brief second. “What?”
She clears her throat. “She blasted god-awful loud music and made Jeremy dance with her as she wrapped all sorts of scarfs around them.”
My lips twitch. “How did Jeremy behave?”
“He was laughing and smiling all day and didn’t want to leave her side.”
“Anything else?”
“She didn’t learn anything from the iPad you left her, sir.”
Why am I not surprised?
“Are you going to visit Mrs. Volkov, sir?” Ogla asks.
I give her a quizzical glance.
“Not this one. The other one.” Her voice lowers. “Something weird happened to her and it needs your attention.”
