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“I’m… I’m not sure—”
Another massive cramp hits me out of nowhere. It’s so powerful it leaves me winded, my lungs burning with the sudden one-two follow up. Something isn’t right. Could it be the babies? I’m still a few weeks out, surely… I look down.
My water’s broken.
“Oh, God,” I breathe. “Oh, no. The babies are early.”
Alexi immediately moves in to check on me. “It’s okay, Aurora. Deep breaths. I’m going to get you to the hospital.”
“O-okay.”
“I’ll get the car ready. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Chapter 44
Mikhail
“Do we have a deal?” I ask, sliding the contract across the table for Ilya Volkov to look over.
We’re seated in the middle of a nice restaurant. It’s midday, so there’s plenty of light. I know the movies and television shows like to make these meetings seem dark and sketchy, but I swear it’s just for the dramatic cinematography. In reality, we do business just like everyone else—over a nice lunch and a glass of wine. Just because we’re Bratva, and just because the businesses we’re involved with are frowned upon amongst polite society, doesn’t mean we can’t be civilized.
Ilya Volkov has a face only a mother could love. He’s seen his fair share of fist fights. And gun fights. And knife fights. I don’t think there’s an inch of his face that isn’t covered in scars or burns. But despite his abhorrent appearance, he’s surprisingly calm and well-mannered—which is all the more reason I need to be cautious of him. It’s always the quiet ones you need to be wary of. You can never tell what they’re thinking.
“Sixty percent?” Ilya says with a friendly smile. “I’m afraid that doesn’t work for me, my friend. I negotiated for eighty percent control of the district when Konstantin was still in charge.”
I don’t move a muscle, as still and sure as stone. Now isn’t the time to show weakness or confusion. “I understand. But Konstantin isn’t here anymore. I’ve run the numbers, and sixty is more than generous given how the businesses in this area have been performing.”
“I’ve already finished construction,” he persists. “The luxury apartments are available on the market.”
“Yes, but they’ve been sitting there for almost five years.”
“And how doyouknow that?”
“I have a very good research team.” I tap the contract’s edge. “I know you’re looking for a way to legitimize your funds. Property management is certainly one way to do so, but you’ve created a hole for yourself, my friend. You’ve built luxury apartments in one of the poorest districts of the city.”
“I was assured the clientele would flock to the area.” Ilya leans back in his chair with a groan. He is an older man, roughly ten years my senior. “You know that old American saying. Build it and they will come.”
I grin. “And how’s that working out for you?”
He chuckles. “Not well. Clearly.”
“Sixty percent of the revenue split is more than generous. You know that.”
Ilya arches a bushy grey brow. “And what do you plan on doing with the property?”
“I plan on breaking down the apartments you’ve built into smaller subunits. We’ll make far more revenue with month-over-month rentals at price ranges the locals can actually afford. I’ll turn a few of them into some Air BnB’s, too. That way we can still bring in foreign cash and keep everything liquid. Your free to use your sixty percent cut however you wish.”
“And who’s funding this renovation?”
“My people, of course. Consider it a gesture of goodwill.”
Ilya smiles. “You areverygenerous, Antonov. Far more generous than your uncle. Be careful not to let people take advantage of your good nature. Advice from one man to another, hm?”
“I appreciate that,” I say honestly. “But I know what I’m doing.”
“As I see.” He pulls out a capped fountain pen from the inside pocket of his suit jacket to sign the contract. “I can tell you’re going to be a force to be reckoned with.”
“I already am.”
