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“Is it Yevgeniy?” Mikhail’s question ripples through the group, who all fixate on me with various levels of curiosity.
“No,” I say. Folding my arms behind my back, trying to seem relaxed, I make myself smile. “It’s something else.”
A few of them perk up—I press on, grabbing at the uplifting mood. I need them to be pleased with me for this to go well. “You all know that Galina has been here for a week and that she agreed to this wedding as a ploy to lure Yevgeniy out of his hole. A ploy that has failed.”
“We’re well aware.” Kostya stares hard at me. “The girl has an attitude. Just the other night I caught her trying to slip out the front door again.”
Kostya … I assess his stiff posture. He’s never liked her. Not since I broke his fingers for speaking about her so crudely. “But I’ll admit, she has a fire in her.”
His admiration for her sets off a dark streak of jealousy in me, and suddenly I’m tempted to break his fingers again.
“She’s a troublemaker,” he finishes.
“Galina is strong,” I state, approaching him with purpose. Kostya holds my gaze until I’m standing over him. His formerly broken hand flexes. He’s nervous.
Good.
“A woman with such inherent sense of self-worth is rare,” I tell him. “It’s allowed her to take charge of the household. She’s not afraid of standing up to you, Kostya.” I narrow my eyes and he looks away. Standing back, I survey the rest of my men. “All of you know the strength it takes to challenge fearsome killers like yourselves.”
Nikolai smiles crookedly at the compliment. “You flatter us, Arsen Kirilovich. But you haven’t told us your good news yet.”
With a light chuckle, I return to the front of the room. “I plan to make this marriage to Galina official. What might have started as simply a ploy will become a reality.”
Vyacheslav gasps. There’s a low murmur as my men utter various words of surprise. That, I expected, but my worry that there would be rejection comes true when Kostya slams his fist against the wall.
“You must be joking!”
“I’m not.”
“It’s not proper!” Lev says.
Bogdan is quick to add his voice as well. “Be reasonable, my pakhan!”
Nikolai nods rapidly. “She isn’t Bratva. You would be debasing yourself by making this marriage real.”
“Yes, she’s an outsider,” Iosif adds.
The others join in with their arguments. The room is a jumble of chatter, the dissent getting louder and more furious the more time passes. I slam a fist against the wall, cracking the wood paneling with the force of my blow. The clatter startles them into silence.
“Enough!” I roar. “You all forget your place.”
The group simmers in quiet anger. None of them are smiling … The mood is dire. My hope that this could go easy has been tanked.
Angling my chin higher, I gaze at them down my nose with a scowl. “I am the pakhan. And it is my right to do this.”
Kostya kicks the broken tip of the stick across the room. “Yevgeniy used to say the same thing.” His upper lip curls. “That it was his right to override our opinions. Until one day he couldn’t. I think you’re familiar with what happened next, Arsen Kirilovich.”
My voice is cold as ice. “Is that a threat, Kostya?”
Kostya holds steady. But when no one else dares to speak up in his support, he recognizes that he has no choice but to concede. “We merely want what’s best for the Bratva,” he mumbles. “My pakhan.”
Letting a rush of air out of my nose, I hold my arms wide. It’s as vulnerable as I can make myself before them.
“My decision isn’t a hasty one, I assure you.” Dropping my hands to my hips, I sigh in exasperation. “This woman … the longer we are together, the more I see that breaking things off is impossible.”
“You’ve fallen for her,” Nikolai whispers. “Haven’t you?”
Knitting my brow, I debate how to respond. I never predicted I’d be standing here, exposed before my brigadiers, pleading for them to understand me. When I lost Kristina, I convinced myself that I’d never allow another woman inside my walls. Now I’m fighting to keep Galina at my side. Ulyana told me I’m holding her heart in my hands. Things have gotten complicated—something I was trying to avoid from the start.
