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The man withdraws his hand from mine and looks very small to me. He simply nods, his eyes wide. I can practically hear his heart beating in his chest. He started this day thinking he was going to make an alliance with the Zaitsev family. Now he has one with me.
I may not control half of Mother Russia, but I control the entire Upper East Side. I can make his life hell if I choose, and he knows that. I can also ensure that he and his family live out the rest of their days in absolute splendor. His choice now, and his actions following this day will determine how this situation will play out.
“Excellent,” I tell him, taking a step back to assess him. “Here’s what’s going to happen now. Katrina and I are going to leave this church and you’re going to let us go with your blessing. If you impede our exit or come after us in any way, I will declare war on your branch, and I will win. You don’t want that, now, do you?”
He eyes me carefully, likely trying to assess if I’m good for my word. He should have learned by now. After all, our branches have been fighting for a long time, but mine always comes out victorious.
It started years ago, before I was born. After Dimitri took my father in, my father decided he needed to make his own name in this country. With the blessing of the Bratva, he began a small real estate business, though that was just a front for money laundering and arms trading.
Dimitri got jealous of my father’s success, though, claiming Papa owed him because he was the one who hosted him in this country. Dimitri claimed Papa would be nothing without him. Whether that was true or not, my father didn’t take kindly to threats.
He wouldn’t hurt Dimitri out of respect for Dimitri’s hospitality, but he did recruit all of Dimitri’s men over from his branch. My father paid better and treated them fairly. He always joked that the key to loyalty was a good medical plan.
Any time Dimitri got out of line, my father would undermine him by stealing more of his men, until our branch was three times the size of Dimitri’s. And the loyalty toward my father ran deep. No one could ever pull the same stunt on him. His men would die for him.
That loyalty ran so deeply that even now it courses through the heart of the Sidorov Syndicate. Many of my men have only been in the organization since my regime began, but there are a few holdovers from the old days. They remember how poorly Dimitri treated them and how kind my father was, even to his death.
They also know that I wasn’t handed my title. I had to work my way up and prove myself to the elders. I’ve doubled the financial gains of the syndicate, implementing new ways for our branch to make money. I’ve taken my father’s dream and run with it, creating an organization of men who are both very loyal and very well compensated.
My father did die regretting his fight with Dimitri, though. He couldn’t see what is so obvious to me. Dimitri is a small man who doesn’t care about anyone but himself. He’ll never respect his men or his friends half as much as he expects to be respected. Dimitri wants to be seen, to be elevated to a position of power, and he doesn’t care who he has to step on to get there.
Even if that person is his own daughter.
My father told me to be kind to Dimitri. He told me to be patient and wait for the right opportunity to propose a truce between our branches. But it’s hard to be kind to a man who doesn’t know the meaning of the word. He demands that men bow to him, but he’s done nothing to earn it.
Dimitri would fall on his face if he tried to rise up against me, and he knows it. He won’t make a move against me, especially since we’re in my neighborhood. That was his arrogance. He thought because he could afford a wedding on the upper east side, he should have one. But now he’s in my territory, and I can have the church surrounded in a matter of minutes.
The other branches present will not get involved in what is essentially a family feud. No one is going to take up for him, not even his would-be in-laws. No, Dimitri is alone and unprotected. There is nothing he can do to me.
“Our branches should have never been at war,” I tell him. “This is a good thing.”
He curses under his breath but grits his teeth, knowing his hands are tied. He’ll release his daughter to me because he has to, but also because it’s the best thing for her. This charade of a wedding should have never happened.
“Fine,” he conceded. “Katrina is yours, but on your head be it.”
He waves me away and turns back to the crowd still milling about in the lobby. I hear him yell to the crowd to go home. The wedding is off.
He also says a few choice words about his daughter that make me want to hit the man. How he could disparage this beautiful woman is beyond me. His pride will be his downfall one day. He doesn’t deserve the blessing of a family he’s been given. He’s a nasty son of a bitch.
CHAPTERSIX
Kat
I fume as the man pulls on my arm, drawing me to his side. My head is spinning at this turn of events. I’d long suspected my father had ties to the mafia, but hearing Ivan confirm it feels like a crushing blow. Was this wedding about marrying me off to the highest bidder? I’d always felt like some kind of pawn in his game, but now I feel physically sick.
Is no one going to speak up for me? Are they just going to let this stranger take me away with him? Of course, he’s no stranger to my father. I imagine even my mother fears him to some extent. She won’t look at him or me.
She isn’t saying a single thing, either. How can she let her only daughter be dragged away like this? I was willing to marry Niko for my family, even knowing it would make me absolutely miserable, but this is too much. I want to scream at her, to beg her to just say something. But she just looks at the ground, her face stony.
“Mama,” I cry out, shaking myself free of Ivan. I go to her and grab her hands. “Please, Mama, don’t let this man take me away!”
She looks at me coldly, shaking off my hands and cursing at me again in Russian.
“You’ve made your decision Katrina,” she says hollowly. “The moment you let that man defile you, you chose him. So now you live with the consequences of your decision.”
She might as well have slapped me in the face. She looks at me as if I’m someone she doesn’t recognize, though I suspect that’s partially true. I’m not sure I recognize myself, either. Everything is so out of control now.
This is my life? I have no autonomy over my life, no say in what happens to me. Apparently, my life is up to the whims of men who only care about gang territory and politics. At this moment, I hate my father. Everything I’ve ever thought about my life is suddenly in sharp focus. He never cared about me. I was always a bargaining chip for him. It disgusts me.
