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“I thought I should have breakfast with you,Pakhan.”
“Yes, yes. Come.”
“Very benevolent of you to show us your noble face, Sir Volkov,” Damien mumbles.
“It’s a surprise, indeed.” Kirill takes a sip of his coffee, watching me from beneath his glasses. I can feel his head spinning in a thousand directions to analyze why I showed up today.
I ignore them both and take my seat. Soon after, a maid rushes in with a cup of black coffee and places it in front of me before leaving.
There are different pastries, along with eggs, ham, and bacon on the table, and I have no doubt it’s to appease Damien’s gluttony, because his mouth is chewing something as we speak.
“Where were we?” Igor continues, ignoring my cutting him off. He’s a pillar of the brotherhood and has been around since my father’s time.
He has some of my father’s traits—namely, ruthlessness—but unlike Georgy Volkov, Igor Petrov is wiser and knows which cards to play and which to keep hidden. He, Kirill, and Vladimir are the ones I watch the most. They’re calm on the surface, but when they hit, no one sees it coming.
“Strengthening our alliance with the Italians,” Mikhail grumbles with clear impatience.
“I think we should watch some more before making any decisions,” Kirill says casually.
Damien points his fork at him. “Watching is for losers, Kirill.”
“Watching allows us to read others,” the latter shoots back.
“Action lets us take care of them.” Damien’s eyes gleam with the promise of violence.
“Leave your fists out of the equation for once, Orlov,” Igor reprimands him.
“My fists brought us new territories, so how about you take my example and awaken your own fists, old man. You, too, Mikhail. You’re pussy-whipped by your whoring business.”
“You fucking—”
“Orlov,” Sergei scolds, cutting Mikhail off.
“What?” Damien swallows his mouthful of pastry and licks his fingers. “Just stating facts,Pakhan.”
“Learn some respect.”
“Respect is earned, not learned.” He grabs a muffin and points at me with it. “Look at Volkov here being a mute little princess, but everyone at this table will stop and listen when he actually speaks.”
I lift my coffee to my lips and take a sip, paying him no attention. Maybe showing up here was a mistake after all. I could’ve worked out with Kolya, Yan, and the rest of my guards to ward off the tension. Now, I’m forced to participate in their endless—and as usual, useless—fights.
“Do you have anything to say, Adrian?” Kirill asks in his suave voice.
“About?”
“The Italians. You’ve been looking into them, haven’t you?”
“I’m getting to know the Luciano family’s dynamics, yes, but I’m not close enough to make any statements.” I stare at Sergei. “ThePakhanwill know if I make any progress.”
“I don’t like to rush you,” the Vor says. “But we need the Lucianos, Adrian.”
“They’re making deals with the Colombian cartel and we need in,” Vladimir elaborates as if I don’t know that already.
Just because I don’t attend morning meetings, doesn’t mean I’m not privy to the brotherhood’s affairs. I have a direct line with Sergei, as I previously did with his brother, Nikolai. Nothing is discussed at this table before thePakhanasks for my opinion about it.
Igor interlaces his fingers in front of him, meeting my gaze as if I’m the only one in the room that he cares about. “If the Lucianos have all access to the South American cartels, they will have more power. They already cleaned their territory by wiping out the other families from New York, except a few Rozettis scattered about. Lazlo Luciano is power-hungry enough to come at us to ensure no one breathes in their presence.”
Damien slams his fist on the table, rattling the coffee cups. “Let him come and I’ll erase him and his little fucking soldiers.”
