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I pull Tatyana close to me as we head past the kitchen doors. The uniformed staff focus on their jobs, avoiding the line of tall, tattooed men in expertly-cut suits heading to the back staircase.
The lower floor isn’t as lavishly decorated as the main floor, but there’s an air of heightened exclusivity. The foyer is painted in bright white with random layers of Afghan rugs strewn across the floor, some overlapping each other.
A pair of doors slide open to Boris Stepanov, ready to greet Vadim and his guests. The coordination of our arrival and the opening of the doors is off-putting. It’s clear they watched us the moment we walked inside.
Boris stands directly at the center of the entryway with his arms out towards Vadim. “Enter, son,” he says in a sickeningly sweet voice. Vadim walks up to Boris and they embrace, but I notice more hesitation on Vadim’s part. It wasn’t the same warm welcome I saw in the bathhouse.
Vadim senses something is off, just as I do.
We file into Boris’s dining room. His men are seated at one side of the long dining table, passing bottles of alcohol and lost in conversation. Bodhan entered ahead of us, so he’s the lone person sitting on what’s clearly the side of the table designated for Vadim’s men. Bodhan gets up from his seat and joins the rest of Vadim’s men standing up, swapping greetings with Grigor and Sergey.
Vadim and Boris talk with each other while I grab Tatyana and try to head to a seat. I can’t stand to speak to Boris right now. The best I can handle is keeping a watchful eye over the events that unfold tonight.
“Viktor! Don’t run off so quickly,” Boris shouts to me over the clamor of men talking.
I stop and wince my eyes before turning back to Boris.
“Good that you’re joining us tonight,” he exclaims with a put-on smile. When he looks at Tatyana, it fades in an instant. I look at Tatyana and she looks equally thrown off. Boris gives her a cold stare before he turns back to me.
“Lovely companion,” he says. He takes Tatyana’s hand into his and plants a kiss on the top. She tugs her hand away and shifts her weight.
Boris turns to me, leaning as if he’s sharing a secret with me. “Careful, Viktor,” he says as he tips his head at Tatyana. “A woman this beautiful is bound to be hiding secrets.”
Tatyana’s cheeks flush and she turns her face away from us.
I glare back at him. “She wouldn’t be the first person with secret motives, right, Boris?”
Boris responds with an empty laugh and walks to the head of the table. I walk with Tatyana to the other side of the table, sitting in the two empty seats next to Vadim.
“Okay, men,” Boris shouts as he pounds a bottle of vodka against the tabletop to gain the attention of the room. “Business first.”
The men quiet down and turn to him.
My eyes pan over everyone in the room, looking for anything concerning.
“Everyone here knows we work in a fast-moving business. Sometimes it moves a little too fast,” Boris says with a chuckle. “We need to make big decisions at any moment. A few days ago, I had to make such a decision.”
He glances at Vadim with a solemn expression before continuing. “It wasn’t my call to make, but I did it out of concern for the future of the Bratva, and all the men in this room. It turned out to be the right choice, but again, it wasn’t for me to make.”
Boris raises a drink in his hand and turns to Vadim. He places his hand on his heart and lowers his voice. “Vadim, my sincerest apologies. This is a business I retired from to take my seat as an elder, but my heart will never leave it. I want us to be successful. To be powerful. That’s the reason behind all of my actions.”
He turns his body towards the other men in the room. “There are other reasons, too,” Boris says as he waves a signal at the doors leading to the kitchen. I spin around and keep my hand on my gun, ready for anything that will emerge from the doors behind us. A server comes out with a large black duffle bag and places it in a clearing in the center of the table.
“Sometimes the right choice turns out to be a profitable one, too,” Boris says. He pulls the zipper of the duffle bag and reveals stacks of money inside.
“This belongs to you, Vadim. Two million American Dollars. For the sale of the warehouse.”
The room breaks out in roars and cheers at the sight of the money.
Boris waits for the room to quiet down before continuing. “Sounds like everyone agrees money is also a good reason.” He raises the drink in his hand high into the air. “To the Mikhailov Bratva.” Boris lowers his arm, tipping his drink in Vadim’s direction. “To thePakhan.Vashe zdorov’ye.”
Vadim sits back in his seat and tips his head in acknowledgement. He raises his drink and meets Boris’ eyes before they empty their glasses together.
Boris motions to the server, who picks up the bag and carries it back through the kitchen doors. A line of waitstaff file out of the kitchen doors to serve dinner as the men finish their drinks.
* * *
The waitstaff collectsempty plates from the table as most of the men are scattered around the dining room with a girl sitting in their lap. Some juggle more than one woman hanging off them. From the looks of it, I’m the last sober man here.
