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“My arrangement is for the long-term future of the Bratva. For our current war against Felix Cardona and the Citta Nostra Mafia.”
He groans. “Your father is rolling in his grave.” He adds a few more phrases in Russian that drift in and out of my ears. Warnings.Curses. They float right over my head.
While his opinion shouldn’t matter to me, it does. Because his disagreement will undermine my authority.
“I don’t accept this,” Kiril argues. “You’re spitting on the final order of Sergey Ivanovich Suvorov.”
“You can disagree all you want, but it won’t change my plans.”
His features darken. “He wished for you and Zoya to be married. It’s an honor to his memory. Don’t you wish to memorialize him?”
“Didn’t the tombstone do a fine job of that?”
It’s useless to argue. A stubborn mule like Kiril will drill me until I give him what he wants—or something close to it—using my father as his secret weapon.
What he doesn’t realize is how much I am my father’s son.
“You’re not Pakhan until the marriage is complete,” he adds. “Until it’s recognized byallthe brigadiers.”
And there lies the complication, doesn’t it? It would be easier to slide a knife through his heart and make his daughter watch. At most, it would soothe my aching ego from hearing such dissent from him.
But I can’t do that.
It’s a stick in my fucking gears to hear it, but it’s true, and it’s only going to worsen my circumstances without his approval. Even dead, my father still manages to pull the strings, undermining me.
My jaw tenses.I did dirty deeds for him. I slaughtered my hobbies. I fucking killed for him.
I’m staring daggers into Kiril, sending the man shrinking back a step while I lean against my desk.I’ll fucking do it again, too.
I ask deadpan, “Do you intend to defy me?”
Zoya’s eyes are rounder than ever, spilling fear like waterfalls. It’s a pleasing reaction, knowing that she cares more deeply for her sweet father than she does for herself because it means everything I do to harm him will hurt her more. She’ll take a hit if it means his survival.
And that satisfies me.
Kiril bows his head. “I will not defy you out of respect for your father.”
Resentment cakes those words. That’s something I can’t allow.
His defiance will spread like a disease among brigadiers, causing a widespread pandemic that will do nothing to advance my status. It’ll lodge a wrench in every plan to overcome the iron grip that Citta Nostra has over us already.
“You’re dismissed,” I state coldly. “Both of you.”
Zoya tends to her father like she’s posing for an oil painting. My God, it’s like she wants a Golden Globe for her performance here today. Cue the crowd cheering after her tearful performance.
It makes mesick.
Once they’re gone, I grab my blazer from the coat rack and yank it on, buttoning the top button as I fly out the door. I slap the button for the elevator, stare at the numbers descending above the door, and review the terms of my marriage arrangement in my head.
How easy was it for Jonas to give up his sister? He didn’t even hesitate, offering her as the sweetener for our alliance. She has no idea of the ease with which I discussed her delivery.
I smirk.Poor thing.
Such a sweet girl couldn’t have been the wiser about the timing of our meeting. And although the coincidence could have been seen as a sign from God about the gifts that lay ahead, I simply saw it as an opportunity.
The elevator dings. I walk inside and slap the appropriate button.
Her pussy is tight, I think while the doors slide shut.She squirms a lot. And the faces she makes when she’s excited…
