Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
The sounds of voices yelling at each other led me to the kitchen where I found Gregor, Damien, and Mikhail standing around the kitchen island, each with a glass of vodka in their hands, ignoring the food laid out in front of them.
Across from them were my brothers, Artem and Pavel.
I cleared my throat to announce my arrival and all at once, the voices fell into silence.
My brothers each embraced me in a strong, comforting hug that I hadn’t realized how much I needed. With each firm pound on my back, I felt more secure, more alive and like myself.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“We got on a private plane from Moscow once we learned why you were in New York. We re-routed to Virginia and landed maybe twenty minutes ago,” Artem explained. “Gregor called us. He shouldn’t have had to. You should have told us what you were doing before you ever left Russia.”
If my brother ever managed to say more than two sentences without a lecture, or some kind of condemnation, I would die of a heart attack.
It was how he showed he cared, with judgment and an annoyed scowl.
Although younger than me, he was the one who took on the responsibility of running the family business in Russia. I’d never wanted to be the leader of a complicated criminal organization. At one time, I’d hoped to escape this life to become an engineer. That was just a dim memory now, but I didn’t regret not taking on the bullshit that came with being the Vor v Zakone, the boss.
Pavel showed his support in a much more productive way. By pouring another glass of vodka and handing it to me as Artem turned back to Gregor to continue the argument I had interrupted.
“How can you let the Ivanov name slip so far, so quickly?” he barked.
“Me? This is on you. It was your man who came into my territory without so much as a fucking phone call and decided to have a firefight in the middle of the goddamn Ritz-Carlton. Do you know how much money I’m going to have to spend to cover this shit up? Not only the hotel, but there was a fucking shoot-out in the middle of a goddamn highway!” Gregor yelled back before tossing back his vodka and slamming the empty glass on the table.
Damien said nothing as he refilled the glass.
It was like this every time Gregor and Artem got into the same room, a constant power struggle.
It was to be expected when you had two mafia bosses, neither used to taking orders, and both trying to wrestle control of the situation.
Gregor may have been the head of the Ivanov family in the United States, but Artem was the head of the family in Russia. Both men demanded a certain level of respect the other was not willing to give.
“Do not think this was on my brother, if you—”
“Do you know how many millions I am going to have to secretly funnel to that fat bastard police commissioner in New York City to bury this bullshit bloodbath your man caused tonight?” Gregor said between clenched teeth.
Before I could step in, Artem slammed his hands down on the table, shaking the crystal decanter and glasses.
“This is not on Kostya. If it wasn’t for your incompetent men who led Oleg straight to my brother’s hotel room door, none of this would have happened. Don’t you dare talk to me about incompetence when you have let the entire family on this side of the world fall into disarray. It’s your fault Oleg was even here in the first place. Everyone knows since you got married, you have gone weak.”
“Excuse me?” Gregor growled.
Fuck, Artem went there, right to Gregor’s face.
I looked around and both Damien and Mikhail’s eyes went wide, but they didn’t make a move.
Neither did Pavel.
Someone needed to break these two up before they ended up shooting each other.
“You heard me. Everyone back home knows how soft you’ve gone since you got married. The writing is on the wall, and your weakness has invited all of this.”
“Fuck you,”
“No, fuck you. I hear you even let Nadia marry some low-level underling instead of securing a lucrative alliance.”
“Careful, Artem,” Mikhail said, standing up straight but still not taking a step forward. “I might get my feelings hurt.”
Artem pulled back slightly, his eyes widening for a moment, looking at Mikhail, before tossing back his own drink and then refilling the vodka. “Apologies, comrad.”
No one would question Mikhail’s expertise as a sniper or his loyalty to the Ivanov family. If he was married to Nadia, it was because he had earned the right. I knew it, Artem knew it, and Pavel knew it.
None of us should question Mikhail’s worth as a husband to Nadia, even if it wasn’t an arrangement that benefited the bottom line.