AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’ll take it!” I say quickly. Maybetooquickly, but I don’t care. This might be my only way back into his fortress of a house. If I’m careful, I’ll be able to pull the wool over his eyes. He won’t know what’s happening until it’s far too late.
“Excellent. I’ll be sure to let Mr. Antonov know. Let’s go over some of the details, shall we?”
Chapter 7
Dimitri
“We want to change the terms of our agreement,” Igor Rachman says, his thin lips wrapped around a fat cigar. The smoke makes my head hurt, but I grin and bear it. “We want an additional million.”
Mikhail frowns beside me, his arms crossed over his chest. Not exactly welcoming and friendly body language, but that’s my brother. “Where’s this coming from?” he asks, irritation licking at his tone.
Our meeting with the Rachman Bratva has been going on for almost three hours—two hours longer than what we wanted. Even though we’re meeting in a public restaurant, we’re not here to enjoy lunch. The food is a formality, the witnesses, an insurance policy. It’s how we show we’re willing to deal in good faith.
Though there’s never any guarantee in my line of work.
I plaster on a big smile and laugh heartily, which seems to dispel some of Igor’s distrust and tension. “Don’t take it personally. My brother always gets grumpy after lunch. I think it might be time for his afternoon nap.”
This earns me a low chuckle. Perfect. “You and me both, my friend,” Igor says, patting the sides of his portly belly.
Mikhail has always been the leader of our family. He’s good at making the tough calls, the power moves. If this were a game of chess, Mikhail is the king, directing everybody on the board where he sees fit. When it comes to business, my brother is ruthless—and sometimes, that means pissing people off in the process.
That’s where I come in.
Where my big brother is stern and unwavering, I’m charming and agreeable. I wish I could say it was a part of our whole good cop/bad cop routine, but that’s just our personalities. Conflict is a waste of time. Talk may be cheap, but it’s also my most effective weapon. Don’t get me wrong, though, I’m no pushover. I just prefer negotiation over violence; a little give and a little take over outright war.
“Half a million, then,” Igor says. “For the legal fees.”
Mikhail’s eye twitches. “My Family is already giving you a generous amount.”
“Yes, but not enough time to process the transaction. You said yourself you want the properties under your name by the end of the month. Legally, too, which means my lawyers are going to have to work overtime to make sure everything’s above board. They deserve to eat, you know.”
I shoot my brother a glance, a silent conversation passing between us. He gives me a subtle nod, barely perceptible to me let alone Igor from across the table.
“How about four million and you can keep your money laundering operation based out of the fishing district?” I counter with an easy grin.
Igor takes a moment to think about it. For a moment, I worry he might not go for it, but the man isn’t an idiot. The operation down by the docks would have been another feather in our cap, but Mikhail is adamant about doing things his own way. We’re new blood. Unlike these old families who’ve spent decades trying to establish themselves in Moscow and throughout all of Russia, my brother and I have fresher ideas on how to gain territory and maintain control.
What’s the point in constantly struggling with the law? Paying cops under the table, blackmailing government officials to look the other way… That’s all well and good for the old guard, but the Antonov Bratva are cut from a new kind of cloth. It’s tiring having to constantly look over your shoulder. It’s exhausting worrying about being crushed by an unsuspecting raid. The way to counteract that?
By owning absolutely everything.
And I meaneverything.
If we control the land, we control what businesses come through the city, preferably those that serve our best interest. We’ll be able to dictate rent prices, all of which are scalable to suit potential clients. If we control the land, we can dictate who builds what and where. You want an apartment complex to bring in renters? A politician wants to start a project to sway voters?
Everyone will have to go through us. That’s where our power lies. These older Bratva bosses think it’s just about real estate. They don’t know we’re buying up every available plot, for sale or otherwise. By the time they put two and two together, we’ll have all of Moscow in a chokehold.
Igor laughs, a deep sound resonating from his belly. “You know what? I like you. It sounds like we have a deal.”
Beside me, Mikhail’s shoulders relaxed. I know he was trying to play it cool the whole time, but I know the truth. The poor guy lives in a perpetual state of stress.
After the usual round of official handshakes and the quick signing of paperwork, it’s all done. I can finally enjoy my lunch without having to worry about things falling through or Mikhail making a grumpy asshole of himself.
“I must say,” Igor starts, puffing on his cigar. “You boys are very impressive. A far cry from your uncle.”
“Thank you,” Mikhail replies stiffly, sipping his whiskey. We might be Russian by blood, but we were still raised in America. Much like my brother, I never really acquired a taste for vodka. I’m more than a little aware of how many people might crucify us for that, but it is what it is.
“I’m glad you were unharmed, by the way,” Igor says to me with a click of his tongue. He seems genuinely concerned. “Any idea yet who was responsible?”
