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Viktor
“Ihope you have good news for me, Luca.” I wave him away as he gestures for me to sit, choosing to walk over to the gilded bar cart along the wall instead.
“I should just get rid of the chairs,” Luca gripes, narrowing his eyes. “No one takes a seat anymore. Are you—sure, go ahead, I guess. Have a drink.”
I smirk, pouring two fingers of good vodka into a glass. “It’s polite to offer your guests a drink, Luca. Or did your father not teach you manners?”
Luca narrows his eyes. “My father missed out on teaching me many things after he was murdered by the Bratva.”
A beat passes between us as I sip the vodka, letting him wonder whether or not I plan to say anything in response. Not too long ago, I wouldn’t have allowed the mafia pup to speak to me in that way—but I have bigger concerns. More pressing matters.
“We have bigger things to discuss than ancient history,” I tell him, enjoying the sight of him bristling as I pour myself more vodka. I know he wants to argue, but he can’t because the peace between us is tentative, and Luca wants it more than I do. “My bride, for example.”
“She’s the only way you’ll accept peace?” Luca frowns. “There’s nothing else you will take? No other conditions?”
“We broker the end of this war with marriage, or not at all,” I say flatly, sinking at last into the chair Luca offered me. “That’s my only and final offer.”
Luca looks exasperated. “Aren’t you tired of this, Viktor? This constant battle between families?”
I shrug. “I am tired of the bloodshed, yes. But we Bratva are wolves and bears. A little blood between our teeth is how we do business.”
He lets out a short, harsh breath. “Caterina has accepted yourproposal.” Luca spits out the last word as if disgusted by it, anger clearly etched in every line of his face. “And I am forced to accept this bargain as well, but I’m not happy about it, Viktor. I told you, I don’t broker with people’s lives in this way. Her father left her under my protection. If anything happens to her—if she’s harmed in any way, it’ll be war. You understand that, right?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I take offense to that, Romano. I’ve never hurt a woman. I never would.”
Luca laughs, a short, sharp bark of a sound. “You hurt women every day,Viktor. Just because you don’t lay a hand on them yourself doesn’t make your trafficking business any less devastating. What do you think happens to them at the end of the line? Pleasure and comfort?”
“For some of them, yes.”
“And others?” Luca looks disgusted. “I know the answer already. Abuse and rape. For many more than you’d like to admit, I think. So don’t tell me about howkindyou are to women. You remember that I rescued Sofia from a hotel room where your men had her tied, right? Treated her roughly?”
“I did not tell them to handle her roughly. Quite the opposite, actually. As for the bondage—” I raise one shoulder and let it fall. “Perhaps Sofia’s taken a liking to it since.”
“You won’t speak about my wife in that way.” Luca’s face reddens.
“And you shouldn’t throw stones when your own house is glass. Isn’t that how the American proverb goes?” I glare at him narrowly. “Think of the devastation your own businesses cause, Luca. The addictions, the overdoses. The suffering in war-torn countries, the widows and fatherless children. The women I sell end up in the harems of sheiks, in the service of billionaires, in the palaces of princes. A few wind up back in Russia, certainly, serving less-than-gentle bureaucrats, but more often than not, they spend their days in harem silks or bikinis on tropical beaches.”
“Enslaved to men who don’t know the meaning of the word ‘no.’” Luca’s face is dark. “Don’t try to dress it up, Viktor.”
“Did you listen to Sofia’s ‘no’?” I smirk at him when I see him flinch. “Ah, so if it’s desire, all’s fair, but if it’s money—tsk. But money is how you justify the drugs and the guns, no?”
“Those women don’t have a choice. Anyone who takes those drugs, or buys those guns, has made a choice of their own.”
I shake my head. “If you really believe that, Luca, then you are not as intelligent as I gave you credit for. And as for the choice of women—was Sofia given a choice?”
Luca meets my stare, his own gaze gone cold. “Was Caterina?”
There are several beats of silence between us. Finally, I clear my throat, standing up. “I’ll make arrangements for the wedding, to be held two weeks from now. I’ll also arrange for Caterina’s wedding gown and other niceties.” I pause, looking down at Luca, where he still sits. “I’ll be kind to her,” I tell him curtly. “So long as she understands her place. And I won’t hurt her.”
There are contracts to be signed then, business to be done. Luca says very little for the rest of the meeting, which pleases me at least. I’m tempted to pay my bride a visit, but Luca made it very clear that she doesn’t wish to see me until the wedding. And although I loathe to let her think that she’s in a position to make demands of me, I also can see her reasoning. This is a business deal, a marriage of convenience. There’s no reason to make it more difficult by a visit that would certainly be awkward and unwelcome.
Instead, I direct my driver downtown to the jeweler where I used to have pieces made for my first wife, including her engagement ring. Some might say it’s bad luck to have him provide the rings for my second marriage.
But I’m a practical man, not a superstitious one.
Henrik, the small, squat German man behind the counter, looks up cheerfully as I walk in. It’s a midweek afternoon, and yet the shop still has quite a few customers browsing, all upper-class women with nothing better to do, I suppose.
“Mr. Andreyev!” He looks surprised. “I haven’t seen you in some time. Not since—” he breaks off then, paling a little. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mention—”
