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Prologue
Alexei
“You alright?” Niko, my second-in-command, looks at me worriedly, drawing my attention away from my reflection in the plate glass windows.
Yes, I’m scowling, but no more than usual. However, Niko’s been with me a long time, and being called to meet with Ivan Novikov out of the blue is reason enough to be worried.
I’m not worried. Yet.
The meeting is at a neutral spot, or at least it’s neutral now. It used to belong to my father, seemingly eons ago, and I wonder if calling me here is a dig, a reminder of what I owe, or just an oversight. Ivan Novikov owns a whole hell of a lot of this city, and a whole hell of a lot of it used to belong to someone else before he bulldozed his way into it. We’re only five blocks from one of his office buildings, but we’re also only ten blocks from one of my upscale wine bars. I guess it’s as neutral as you can get.
I have to remind myself that I’m not a nobody in this city as I catch a gleam from my gold cufflinks in the reflection of the windows. I tug my pristine white cuff down to cover the bit of one of the tattoos that snakes down my wrist, then shrug at Niko.
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” I ask, seriously wanting an answer.
He shakes his head almost imperceptibly, his eyes roaming for unseen dangers. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
Niko’s been my best friend for ages. His father was my father’s bodyguard and second in command. While his father might blame himself for what happened to my old man, I certainly don’t. My father was part of the old guard, a ruthless leader who used violence to intimidate and control. Cold and calculating, he had a lust for power and riches that caused him to often aim higher than he could reach. Fear can only control men for so long before they snap and turn against you. Not even the most loyal second-in-command can protect you after that.
Watching my father lose half of our territory before he was taken out by one of his many enemies taught me the wrong way to gain wealth and power.
Or at least the wrong way to keep it. And I intend to keep what’s mine.
It’s just that a good lot of what’s mine is under the thumb of the very man who’s mysteriously called me to have lunch with him at a neutral location.
“Come on, we don’t want to be too late,” I say. I’m not into playing power games and I’m not going to be intimidated just because my father left me with a mountain of debt that’s controlled by the deadliest man on the East coast.
Niko steps forward and opens the glass door. This place used to be a Chinese restaurant, though it was actually one of my father’s many money-laundering fronts. Now it appears to serve middle eastern cuisine. No one recognizes me as the hostess leads us to a private room in the back.
It’s decorated with bright jewel-toned cushions on a long banquette, mostly taken up by Ivan Novikov’s men, stacked together like great big rows of tires on the dainty furniture and looking like they’ve never smiled a day in their life.
I don’t offer a smile to them or Ivan, sitting on a wide, turquoise velvet armchair with a damn brandy snifter resting in his palm. There are another two men lounging against the table to his left and there’s a window behind him that’s covered by long satin curtains.
Okay, yes, I’ve brought my own bodyguard. That’s customary in our line of work, so I didn’t expect to see Ivan alone. But five men, all of them tense, coiled, ready to strike? Has my luck run out? Is Ivan tired of holding my father’s debts over my head and really about to kill me?
I don’t cut a glance at Niko because I know he’s already working out our odds. I don’t hate them, but I don’t like using violence unless I absolutely have to. I just hope that’s a real window behind those curtains and not a solid wall, because part of my plan if one of them so much as twitches in our direction is to kick Ivan and the stupid fancy chair right through it. That should distract the others for the time it takes Niko to get the three tires under control while I turn my attention to the two by the table. My hand twitches instinctively toward the gun I have holstered beneath my suit jacket when Ivan raises his hand. To give a silent order?
No, to rub the back of his neck and sigh. “This damp weather does a number on my old bones,” he says, then waves at his men to relax.
“It was foggy as hell this morning …” I hum, stunned we’re talking about the weather. Ivan Novikov brought me here to chat about something so mundane?
He calls for a server, and one scurries into the room to ask me what I’d like to drink. Since Ivan is old school like my father was and is already drinking alcohol at one in the afternoon, I feel like I should follow suit.
Except, fuck that. I’m my own man, my own kind of leader. And I’m doing just fine, that damn debt notwithstanding.
“Iced tea,” I tell the server.
Only a raised eyebrow from Ivan tells me he’s noticed I’m taking a stand, but he doesn’t peer pressure me like we’re in high school, and orders a feast for us. He makes some more small talk, general stuff about my clubs and restaurants—that I’ve mostly all converted to fully legal businesses in the year since my father was taken out. His tone is jovial but I still can’t fully relax.
Why’s he so interested in my business dealings? If he were to call in the debt, I’d have to liquidate almost all of that hard work. He knows that.
“Ah, I bet this dreary weather hasn’t been keeping you from meeting women and enjoying the finer things in life, right?” he asks as our food arrives. “You’re in your thirties now, aren’t you? Looking to settle down with anyone special yet?”
“The clubs keep me busy,” I say. “I don’t really have time for much of a social life.”
Ivan shakes his head. “But family is everything. You don’t want to wait too long.” He snaps his fingers at the two men who’ve moved away from the table to lean against the wall while we eat. “My sons here are my pride and joy. My legacy. That’s important in family business,” he says, stabbing a lamb shank with a fork and shaking it at me. “Family. Always family.”
I want to tell him to cut to the chase, but I want to avoid stepping on his toes if I can. Even so, all this beating around the bush seems like a waste of time. “You didn’t just invite me here to make sure everything is going well in my life, did you?” I spear a bite from my plate. We stare each other down while we chew.
