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“Yes?”
“What does Adrian do exactly?”
She pauses as if she didn’t expect that question, then says, “Why do you want to know?”
“He said to ask you for anything and I believe this belongs in that category. I’m sure I knew all about his work before I lost my memories, so you’re just going to have to refresh them for me.”
I expect her to shrug me off, but she says, “Mr. Volkov is part of the Russian mafia.”
He’s not a spy, after all, but that’s not a shock. He can pass for a mobster, even though his style and features are sophisticated.
The conversation I overheard from the Giants fans about the Bratva rushes back again and I swallow. They said they were dangerous people who didn’t hesitate to kill. Not that I should be surprised that Adrian is a killer, but this information puts everything into real—and terrifying—perspective.
He’s one of those dangerous people. It’s not only the vibe he gives. His entire existence is set to elicit fear in the hearts of anyone who talks about him or his organization.
“Part of?” I ask, opting to continue probing Ogla. I need to have an accurate assessment of my situation so I’ll be able to deal with it.
“Yes.”
“What does part of mean?”
“It means he’s a member.”
Trying to get information from this woman feels like pulling teeth, but I rein in my exasperation. “He seems higher up, having guards and living in a mansion.”
“He is.”
“How much higher up?”
“Right under thePakhan.”
I heard that term once. “Is that the leader of the mafia?”
“The leader of the brotherhood, yes. Mr. Volkov is the brains behind most of the operations.”
Again, I should be surprised, but I’m not. Adrian seems like the type of bastard who strategizes from the background to inflict more damage with fewer casualties.
But now that I know he’sthathigher up, I don’t know why I’m suddenly nervous. A thousand thoughts occupy my mind and the most prominent of all is that I shouldn’t be here. The second one is that I’ve landed myself in trouble.
However, it’s not like I had a choice. It was either become a mafia man’s wife or rot in jail.
Though, the more time I spend in Adrian’s company, the more seriously I entertain the jail idea.
“If you’ve finished your breakfast, you need to study,” Ogla pulls my attention to the present.
“Study?”
“Follow me.”
I do, not sure where she’s going with this. She leads me to a sitting area and motions at the coffee table, on which there is an iPad and a phone.
“That will be your phone. My number is three on speed dial. Kolya is two.”
“Kolya?”
“He’s Mr. Volkov’s second-in-command.”
“Oh, is he Bulky Blond or Crooked Nose?”
