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It’s vast and has tall bookshelves that extend from the floor to the ceiling. I’ve always been apprehensive about this place. It’s only ever been meant for business, and for ruining people’s lives.
My movements are careful as I walk in, my hands sweatier than they were earlier. Before I can wipe them on my dress, however, I’m caught off guard by the man sitting across from Papa.
His dark hair is mussed, as if he couldn’t have cared less about brushing it when he rolled out of bed this morning. Not only that, but the first few buttons of his white shirt are also undone. I don’t remember the last time he’s ever worn a complete suit or a jacket.
He’s rugged that way, an absolute rebel, and extremely volatile.
Damien Orlov.
One of the four kings who reign over theBratva, the youngest of them all, and the most violent.
No kidding. I’ve heard horror stories about him dislodging a man’s head from his shoulders with his bare hands. I also witnessed him going on a killing spree at Rai’s wedding as if he were on a “who kills more” competition.
Those with violent tendencies and a potent bloodlust like him are a wild card. It’s why Vladimir and Rai monitor him so he doesn’t spiral out of control.
Papa has always been wary of his potential, despite what he does for theBratva. Everyone in and outside of the organization calls him a dark horse and it’s not empty words.
Finding him alone with Papa is a surprise, to say the least. He’s usually either bickering with Kirill or flirting with Rai—attempting to, anyway, because she only has eyes for her husband.
Stopping near the entrance, I say, “You asked for me, Papa?”
At my words, Damien faces me with a frown. “Why did no one tell me you were back? I thought you preferred Russia and the fucking cold over New York. Is that not the case anymore, Nastyusha?”
I swallow, clearing my throat. Only those close to me call me by the Russian endearment version of my name. NamelyBabushka, Rai, and Papa—when he wasn’t mad at me. Even Vladimir has never used it.
But Damien informed me once that he’ll call me what Rai does and I’ll have to deal with it.
“She returned to where she belongs.” It’s my father who answers him before he tips his head to the chair that’s across from Damien.
I approach them carefully, then sit down, wondering why he has both of us here when that’s never happened before.
“That’s good and all, but why did you ask for me first thing in the morning, Pakhan? I kind of need my beauty sleep after killing five motherfuckers last night…or were there ten? I lost count with all the screams and begging.”
“It’s almost afternoon, not morning,” Papa says.
“So what? It’s been a while since you’ve been in the field, but let me tell you, it takes some time to recharge before the next killing spree,Pakhan. So do me a tiny favor and make it quick.”
I stare at Papa, but he doesn’t appear angry. Damien is probably the only one who gets away with being insolent to everyone, his ownPakhanincluded.
Okay, everyone but Kirill. They’re always at each other’s throats.
“I just need you to agree to something and then you can go back to sleep, Orlov.”
“Consider it done,” Damien says with finality.
“Good. Then you’ll marry my daughter in a month’s time.”
A shudder goes through me and my heart shrinks in my ribcage.
I’ve always known that Papa wanted to marry me off within theBratva. Rai took the fall for me once and got married to her ex-nemesis, but she couldn’t do that every time. Sooner or later, Papa would married me off to the one he found most suitable, which is part of the reason why I left.
I just didn’t want to be in this life forever, caught in the middle of violence and shootouts and betrayals.
But as I stare at Papa, I know my fate is sealed, because he’s already made a decision about this marriage and I have no say in it.
Unlike me, however, Damien isn’t fazed. If anything, he appears bored. “What’s with everyone matchmaking me? I’m not husband material last I checked… Or am I?”
“Just do it.”
