I pull out my cigarette case and pull one out. I light up, watching Ivan’s bullshit. Yup, the motherfucker is acting strange, he's changed, and Pakhan thinks so too.
“I’m going to get us some food,” Ivan says, looking at his watch.
“Da sounds good,” Pakhan says, nodding.
We watch Ivan walk to the elevator. The doors open, and he walks inside. The doors close, and I look at my Pakhan.
I should get the Soldier to tail Ivan because I don’t want any fucking surprises, but then again, Pakhan might get pissed off. We’re Brats and all, but Ivan and Pakhan were raised together, and there is a bond that keeps Pakhan from acting on his fucking gut feeling. I know it because I’ve learned to read my Brat.
I light up, inhale deeply, and push off the chair to get something to drink. I grab my glass of Vodka, and my Otets saying runs through my mind, making me grind my molars.
Always remember to question and do not trust, not even your shadow.
I bet that Otets also told my Brat, and yet he’s not reacting to the bullshit. Pakhan inhales, scrubs his face, and looks at me.
I walk back to the chair, and take a seat, taking a drink.
“Give me a smoke,” Pakhan says, waving his fingers.
“Da.”
I hand him my cigarette case, and he takes it, pulling one out. He lights up, inhales deeply, and exhales. He runs his fingers through his short hair and looks at us.
“It’s about time that you showed up; we’ve been waiting for you,” Anatoly sighs, shaking his head.
“I was meeting with Brigadier Varkov about the new club since he’s in charge of getting it running. He wants to have several floors but with different themes. We’re going with Hellion for the club’s name,” Pakhan says, taking a drag of the cigarette.
“Da, that name is good. The club is going to be fucking awesome,” I hum, nodding.
“Where did Ivan go,” Anatoly asks, looking at the door.
“To get us some food,” Pakhan huffs, falling onto the chair.
“Sounds good, I’m starving.”
“Brat, did you get any details on Conti Famiglia? Do they have resources to take us out,” Pakhan asks, taking a drag.
“Nyet, but Conti Famiglia is not penniless. In fact, Conti is wealthy, so in theory, yes, he can take us out, but he doesn’t want war,” I say.
Da, Anatoly, had reviewed what he found this morning over breakfast. We still have breakfast together; you know it’s hard to break twin habits.
“So, the word in the underworld dark web is that Conti wants to make strong alliances by marrying off his nieces, so he’s looking for the best offer,” Anatoly scoffs, rolling his eyes.
Yeah, Brat thinks it’s fucking bullshit and old fashion, but it’s the way of the underworld.
“Is that right? Get me an appointment, and give me the files to review the two nieces. I want to know everything about them,” Pakhan hums, tapping his fingers on the desk and looking out the window.
“What the hell! Are you seriously considering marrying,” I huff, raising my brow?
Pakhan leans back into the black leather chair, steeples his fingers, and looks at me stoned-faced.
“Da, it’s a thought that popped into my mind when you said that he’s looking for an alliance and the marriage as forging the alliance. I’m thirty, not old, but I want an heir, and a girl that knows what the Bratva and Mafia are all about would make the marriage a lot easier,” Pakhan states, looking at us.
“Well, I’ll be damn,” Anatoly remarks, smiling.
“Damn,” I say, raising my brow.
“And guess what? You two will marry when the Bratva needs you to, period. Do you understand,” Pakhan asks, staring at us.
