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“Don Barone,” I extend a hand, and he rises from his chair to shake it. “Vlad tells me you’ve been having some issues.”
“You can call me Sissi, kid. All my friends do,” he says as I sit across from him. “There’s been trouble with a few street soldiers associated with your friends, the Morettis. They’re dealing on my turf, causing disruptions. I need them to back off, and Vlad said you’d handle it.”
I let out a frustrated sigh. “I might not be your man. At his birthday party last night, Aldo Moretti got out of hand and made unwanted advances toward Vlad’s youngest sister.” I pause briefly but can’t resist adding, “My fiancée.”
It feels great to say that.
Sissi’s eyebrows shoot up so far that they almost meet his receding hairline. “Young Lilyana? Well, I’ll be. So things got messy?”
I nod. “The old man denied it, and it nearly turned into a fight, but we managed to defuse the situation before anyone got any holes in them. I can’t imagine the Morettis will take orders from us right now.”
A man I recognize enters the study, and for a moment, I can’t place him. Then I stand, grasping his hand, and he shakes it firmly.
“Timur, priyatel’!” I say. “What are you doing here?”
Timur was a cokehead and IT whizz, serving a short sentence for a white-collar fraud charge. He shared a cell with me for a year before getting transferred to a low-security facility in Illinois.
I always kept my affiliations quiet in prison because my connection to the Kislev bratva caused enough trouble. Timur was much more of a one-man operation, but it’s clear that he’s risen in status since then.
“My plans to go straight didn’t work out,” Timur chuckles. “I made some connections in Illinois, and Sissi here negotiated my parole. I cut back on the nose candy, and I’ve been with the Barones ever since.”
I’m pleased my friend is doing well. “It’s good to see you, tovarishch,” I say, “but your boss had to call me in. You too soft to shake down a few street punks?”
Timur rolls his shoulders and gives Sissi a resentful look. “I said I’d handle it,” Timur retorts, “but apparently, you’re the go-to guy. Is there anything I can do to assist you here, Don Barone?”
“The Morettis aren’t winning any popularity contests,” Sissi says. “The Don’s brother thought he’d harass the Kislev girl last night.”
“Disgusting bastard.” Timur gives me a broad grin, revealing a gap in his teeth. “I can see the appeal, though. She’s a fine piece of ass.”
Sissi clears his throat, and I give Timur a pointed glare. “Lilyana Kislev and I are getting married.”
Timur brings his palms together and taps his fingertips on his chin. “Forgive me, Arman. My mouth is bigger than my brain, and I meant no disrespect. It was just locker-room talk.”
I’m irritated, but I know him; he’s impulsive. If he thought before speaking, he’d make much less trouble for himself.
“Alright,” I say. “But you’d better find a way to make it up to me.”
Sissi chuckles. “Timur’s a reliable guy. He might be moody sometimes, but he’s got balls where it counts.”
“Yeah, and how many times have you threatened to rip them off and make me eat them?” Timur laughs. “He’s a real taskmaster, Arman. Is your boss the same?”
“Nah,” I reply. “Vlad and the others are like family to me, and when I marry Lilyana, the connection will be official.”
“That puts you in the running for bratva leadership,” Timur remarks, patting me on the back. “Impressive catch. No mafia princess ever took a shine to me, so I settled for being an employee.”
“Settled?” Sissi interjects, raising his hands. “Don’t I pay you a fortune? You need to remember your place, Timur. After all I’ve done for you—”
“Alright, alright!” Timur heads toward the door. “I apologize, Don Barone. See you around, Arman.” Then he exits, closing the door behind him.
Sissi offers me a cigar, but I decline. He lights one up, taking a deep drag. “So, what should I do?” he asks.
“I recommend leaving it to us for now,” I reply. “Once the Morettis are back under control, we’ll address the issue of their foot soldiers causing trouble. In the meantime, don’t let your people kill anyone, and we’ll resolve it within the next few days.”
“Da, ya ponimayu,” Sissi says, blowing smoke. “If there’s anything I can do to help, just give me a call.”
By the time I arrive home, I urgently need a shower. Vlad called me earlier to tell me I need to rock up at the Kislev mansion for seven p.m., which gives me an hour to get my shit together.
I start undressing, and my phone pings with a message from Lilyana.
