I raise my voice a little and keep speaking calmly.
“In these files, you’ll find considerable evidence that Anton has been paid to provide information about our activities to the Mafia. Romeo Cavilleri has profited from Anton’s loose lips, time and time again. For ten years, since he was eighteen years old, he’s been on the mafia payroll.
“He’s ruined business deals, territory acquisitions, and most importantly — he’s destroyed lives. Several times, the information he willingly provided has seen Bratva blood spilled. Lives taken. Families devastated.”
I’m satisfied by the gasp that runs through the crowd as I pause. “Anton Romanov should not be trusted to take on the Bryusov seat on the Council of the Bratva, in everyone’s best interests. Would you really want an informant at the very top levels of our organization?”
The Romanovs explode in outrage. Anton rushes across to them, voicing his denials and excuses, even as they shove the compelling case I’ve prepared in his face. Others in thecrowd pick up the booklets I’ve prepared for this occasion. They will find the information fully referenced, with footnotes and evidence. Stills of the CCTV footage. Even a photo of Anton and Romeo Cavilleri, the Italian mafia don, smiling together as scantily-clad waitresses parade around in the background.
The crowd, in a word, descends into chaos, shoving files at each other, tossing accusations across the aisle.
The main thing is that no one is looking at me anymore.
I can slip out of my own wedding, unnoticed, a mere five minutes after I stepped up to the altar. I can’t suppress a small, triumphant smile as I step down from the altar.
One man is laughing louder than the rest of the crowd, his eyes fixed on me.
I don’t recognize him, but he’s hard to miss. A ragged scar mars his left cheek, he’s covered in tattoos, and he’s huge.
I catch a flash of his blue eyes following me as I storm down the aisle, tossing the bouquet of white roses to the floor of the church. He seems amused, even pleased, by my behavior.
At leastsomebodyis on my side.
3
LEKS
That little scene by my bride-to-be was the perfect cover for us. Couldn’t have planned it better myself.
I mentally thank Arkady for the file on his brother’s relationship with the mafia.Lucky break, choosing to bring him back from Siberia with me. Even if he did come close to dying from that cough while we were in the freezing depths of the Arctic. The Romanovs owe me one for bringing back their long-lost son. Though they might not be my biggest fans after today.
All worth it to watch as Natalia Bryusova stormed down the aisle with triumph all over her face. More fire than I expected, for a girl so sheltered that she’s more of a myth than a person.
The uproar that went through the crowd after she made her dramatic announcement gave us the opportunity to go after Maksim. Even little old ladies were exchanging curse words over the church pews to the opposite side of the aisle.
It was only too easy to pull one man away from the chaos with a gun to his back and a relaxed smile threatened onto his face.
My men release him and Maksim Bryusov dusts himself off, looking disgusted. They keep their guns trained on him.
I’ve briefed them on exactly what a slippery bastard Maksim can be.
The old man pushes his glasses up his nose and narrows his eyes at me.
“Aleksandr Zhukov. You are supposed to be in a padded room in Siberia.”
I hold my arms out to show him the suit I’m wearing.Armani. A tuxedo. Bought it especially.You’ve got to splash out, for your wedding day.
“I thought New York’s climate suited me better.”
It is a beautiful day for a Bratva wedding.
Maksim is staring at me like he’s seeing a ghost.I won’t let him bring down the mood.
“I don’t get a welcome back?”
His lips press together as though he’s tasted something sour. I watch his throat bob.
“Wasn’t I your protégé, all those years ago, Maksim? What happened to that?”
