AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 1 - Boris
The numbers on the spreadsheet grow before my eyes, each figure so large that it screams loudly the stakes at hand. I lean back in my black leather chair, pinching the bridge of my nose to stave off the brewing headache. This casino resort isn't just concrete and glass—it’s redemption, a legacy resurrected from the ashes of our loss in Russia.
We were so young when our father and mother were taken from us by our enemies. Had they still been alive, I wouldn’t have had to fight to establish our legacy as I do today.
"Damien, Lev," I call out, not bothering to look up at my brothers as the door to my office opens. "Everything has to be spot-on today," I command harshly, my disposition roughened by years of bearing burdens too heavy for younger shoulders.
"It’s all planned out, Boris," Damien replies with the calmness of a man who strategizes at every opportunity with the same fervor doctors use to save lives. It comes to him naturally, like a calling. I look up. He stands against the doorframe, his suit hanging on his wiry frame, deceptive of the strength it conceals.
“Yeah, relax. Will you?” Lev adds, walking past Damien and taking a seat opposite me. I stare at my youngest brother, his carefree demeanor already taxing my nerves. At least today, he bothered to put on some modern version of a suit, but to my dismay, he wears a T-shirt below the coat jacket. His long hair is tied in a haphazard bun instead of being contained with a band at the nape of his neck, as he usually wears it.
God, I wish he’d cut his hair.
"Relax? Our most important investors are coming in today, and if this meeting goes south, so does our chance on American soil." My gaze finally meets theirs, unyielding. "Ivan'sreputation got us this far; we can't fuck it up. Not now," I remind them. Without the help of our cousins, we would have been forced off American soil by the Italians before we could even say the word “Bratva” out loud.
"Always so serious," Lev quips, the smirk on his face telling of his careless nature.
"Lev, I swear, if you pull any of your stunts today—" My threat hangs in the air, unfinished but clear. His grin fades under the shadow of my gaze.
"Hey, I get it. No games," Lev raises his hands in mock surrender, tattoos peeking from his cuffs like silent witnesses to his past follies.
"Good." I turn back to the financial projections as Damien comes and takes a seat next to Lev. "We've got one shot at legitimizing a portion of our business. One shot at cementing the Zolotov name in the Philadelphia gambling scene."
"Understood, brother," Damien nods, his mind probably racing through scenarios, contingencies, and plans within plans.
"Damien," I start, placing the report down and locking eyes with him. "You've got the numbers, the projections, the strategies. Make sure every figure is ironclad."
"Got it, Boris," he nods sharply, the strategic mind behind his calm exterior now whirring into overdrive. "I'll double-check everything. We can't afford any mistakes."
"Lev," I turn to my youngest brother. "This isn't just about tonight. It's about our future, about our family. You need to be on point, not just present. Can I trust you to handle that?"
He straightens up, a rare seriousness taking over his features. "You have my word. No screw-ups. I know what's at stake." Despite his often reckless demeanor, Lev understands the importance of showing loyalty to his family. From all of ussiblings, I believe in my heart that Lev is loyal beyond human comprehension.
"Good." I allow myself a breath, a brief respite from the relentless pressure. With my brothers by my side, I feel supported.
"Let's show these investors what the Zolotov family is made of. We do this right, and the doors will open for us across the whole damn country," I declare, feeling the familiar surge of adrenaline, the readiness for battle. This is a war for our rightful place, and I am leading the charge.
"Da, Boris. For the family," Lev nods his head exuberantly.
The door to my office glides open unexpectedly. I frown as Veronika slips through like a cat on the prowl, all curves and confidence. Her pencil skirt hugs her like it was painted on, and she has a strange, sultry smile aimed at me.
"Mr. Zolotov, the flight carrying the investors has landed," she says, her voice dripping with something that isn’t strictly business.
"Good," I respond curtly without breaking my focus from the projections spread out before me. This casino will be the crown jewel of our empire, or it would be if I can keep everything—and everyone—in line.
She leans forward, resting her hands on my desk, a move calculated to draw my eyes to places they have no business being. "Maybe we can celebrate after the meeting? Just you and me?" The suggestion in her tone can't be mistaken.
"Veronika," I begin, steel lacing my words as I finally meet her gaze. "We've got bigger fish to fry today." It isn't just about keeping it professional; having any kind of entanglement is a luxury I can’t afford. Not now, and probably not ever if we continue to progress at th this current rate.
"Your loss," she pouts. I ignore her, and she saunters out.
I hear Lev cough pointedly. I look up and catch him staring at me like a panther ready to strike.
"Brother, you should learn to enjoy the finer things in life," Lev chides, his smirk wide enough to launch ships or start wars.
"And you need some more discipline, Lev," I snap at his cavalier attitude.
"Come on, Boris. You're wound tighter than a spring," he shoots back, unfazed by the heat in my eyes. “When was the last time you fucked? And that secretary of yours…” he whistles.
