AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What sort of reputation?”
Helen finishes altering my wedding gown. She helps me slip out of it. She hands me my jeans and tee shirt to change back into.
“Well, of course, I wouldn’t know. But it is rumored that he is very well endowed. He loves sex and has several lovers because one woman isn’t enough for him.” Vanessa explains as she smiles sweetly.
I feel sick to my stomach. I will never be enough for Bobby Vincenzio. I am going to be miserable. I see myself sitting at home alone while he sleeps with other women. Women that look like Vanessa. I am so disappointed. What difference does having the proper wardrobe befitting a Capo’s wife make? He is a player. After Bobby deflowers me on our wedding night, he will return to his other women.
I sit down on one of the couches while Vanessa talks about my hair. Her notebook computer is in front of her. She makes an appointment with a celebrity hairstylist in Chicago. She wants my long hair cut to my shoulder with some soft bangs. She also makes an appointment for me at her favorite spa for a massage, manicure, pedicure, and full body wax. Bobby wants my body waxed. Wow, what a control freak! I tell her waxing will not be necessary since I had all the hair on my legs, underarms, and vagina, permanently lasered off. She also makes an appointment with a make-up artist, to teach me how to apply make-up.
I already feel like one of Bobby Vincenzio’s possessions. He may think he is in control of me now but after our wedding, it will be a different story. He is going to have to make some changes if he wants me to be the perfect mafia wife! No cheating. No mistresses. I do not care if he is the Capo of the Chicago Outfit!
Chapter Five
“The whole secret lies in confusing the enemy, so that he cannot fathom our real intent.”
? Sun Tzu, The Art of War
Bobby
Now that I have dealt with the Razors, I need to meet with the Bratva – Russians. I call Nick and have him set up a meeting with the Antonovich brothers. My oldest brother, Paul Jr., is accompanying me.
Over the last few months, the Chicago Russian Bratva has been slowly gaining power in the city. They are acting like they are untouchable. They used the Razors to try and kill my fiancé; and they threatened Ben Fielding. The Outfit and the Bratva need an agreement. A truce. I don’t want war with the Russians.
The Russian mafia is like the Italian Mafia in many ways, the groups' structures are almost identical. The two groups also engage in similar criminal activity. The Italian Mafia inspired early criminal gangs in Russia. The level of political corruption and arms sales in a post-Soviet Russia allowed many government officials to join the crime syndicates. The Russians dabbled in uranium trading, stolen from the Soviet nuclear program, and human trafficking.
The Antonovich brothers run the Bratva in Chicago. A few years ago, they opened a strip club called, “Velvet Handcuff’s.” This is the Bratva headquarters. The club is a popular low life hangout.
The brothers are a recurring pain in my ass. It is easy to spot a Bratva bastard – tattoos. They are all tatted up. Have blonde buzz cuts. Built like mac trucks. Heavy accents. They look scarier than they are. They are pussies.
The Antonovich brothers are involved in extortion, racketeering, illegal gambling, firearm offenses, narcotics trafficking, wire fraud, credit card fraud, identity theft, human trafficking, and using electronic hacking devices on the Outfit’s Las Vegas casinos’ slot machines. Sneaky fuckers. They also of operate secret underground gambling dens. They use violence on people who owe gambling debts. They sell heroin and cocaine in their nightclubs (rumor has it that they use a submarine for cocaine smuggling. Fuck, who knows?). The brothers force their female prostitutes to rob customers by drugging them with chloroform.
According to my father, the Antonovich brothers want to expand into legitimate real estate to launder money the way the Outfit does. They have already pressured Zach Fielding to sell some high rent buildings to them.
The Antonovich brothers refuse to meet me in my office. I refuse to meet them in their strip club – “Velvet Handcuffs” - so our meeting is scheduled in neutral territory in a bar at a posh hotel, in broad daylight. The hotel is in downtown Chicago on Michigan Avenue, a few blocks away from a police station.
The hotel’s upscale lobby bar is bright, open and crowded with tourists, as Paul Jr. and I walk in.
I see the two oldest Antonovich brothers, Bogan and Saitov, seated at a secluded private table. The youngest brother, Christov, is not here. About half a dozen Russian soldiers stand around the table. Paul Jr. and I sit down at the table across from Bogus and Saitov. Our six bodyguards stand behind us.
Russian Bratva soldiers always have tough looks on their faces. They wear black track suits. Always have way too much hair gel in their buzz haircuts. They look like criminals. They smell of cheap aftershave. My soldiers are just as tough-looking as the Russians, but they wear three-piece suits. We are professionals. Businessmen.
There is way too much testosterone at this table. Any minute we will be whipping out our dicks to see who has the biggest one.
“Bobby, Paul.” Bogun greets us.
He speaks with a thick Russian accent.
Bogun is the Pakhan – also called Boss.
“Bogun, Saitov.” I speak.
Nobody shakes hands. I straighten my light grey Ferragamo silk tie. The tie goes with my charcoal grey Brioni suit. What can I say? I always dress well.
“I didn’t know those 1990’s track suits were back in style.” Paul Jr. comments.
“I can’t wait to stick you like a pig!” Saitov replies.
“Ladies, please.” I speak.
