Uncle Pavel lifted the two glasses, walked around the minibar, and approached me. “Pakhan Artem asked me to speak with you in person,” he said. “Besides, this isn’t a phone conversation.”
At this point, my interest was piqued.
“Here. Drink up.” He handed me a glass and walked over to the nearby couch.
If Pakhan Artem sent him to me, this had to be important.
He sank into the cushion, the fine leather crunching beneath his weight.
“Are you going to tell me what this is about, or do I have to offer a burnt sacrifice first?” I teased, swirling the glass in my hand.
“Relax.” He let out a quiet chuckle. “It’s nothing serious. We just want to know what your plans are for settling down.”
I should’ve known.
I raised my brows in disbelief. “This again? Really?That’swhat you came all the way here to discuss with me?”
“Well, the last time I mentioned it over the phone, you hung up on me.”
Guilty as charged.
I stared at him in silence, thinking of ways to dismiss the conversation before it even started.
“At this stage in your life, you should be thinking about marital stability and legacy,” he said, flashing a crooked grin. “If you’re having a hard time picking a wife, just say so, and I’ll gladly help out.”
Silence.
He went on, “Have you considered Anastasia Solokova? The girl is the perfect example of beauty with brains. She’s respectful and very traditional too.”
My uncle and I had gone over this same topic multiple times before, and I always owned up. However, something told me he wasn’t going to back down easily this time.
“There’s also the gorgeous daughters of Alexei Kurylenko. Ekaterina, Sofia, and what’s the last one’s name again?” He thought for a second. “Ahh, Valentina.” He sipped from his glass. “If I were you, I’d go for Valentina. She just turned 19. Catch them young, am I right?”
The girls he recommended were all from powerful families. In my world, marriage was a business that strengthened the alliance between two families. It was always strategic and sacrificial.
“I’m not ready…Uncle.”
“No married man I know ever was,” he replied. “Not even Pakhan Artem.”
I lifted my glass to my lips and took a sip.
“Duty calls, nephew.” He rose to his feet. “And sooner or later, you’re going to have to answer.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Marriage was expected of me at this point. It was an obligation, not an option. The pressure was mild now, quietly brewing beneath the surface. If I didn’t act soon, everything could blow up in my face.
He drained his drink in one gulp and walked over to me. “Take your future into your own hands and position yourself for greatness.” His palm settled on my shoulder. “Find a wife before the Bratva finds one for you.”
I stood there, digesting his advice with a flat expression on my face.
He glanced at the empty glass in his hand, his head tilting to the side. “This vodka tastes different.”
A pause.
He added, “I’m taking the bottle, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
I watched him move past me, heading straight to the minibar.
