Page 32 of Bound Vows (Empire City Syndicate #3)
Andrei
One Year Later
Watching Maya negotiate with federal prosecutors while wearing the same smile that once preceded bloodshed proves that marriage to a Mastroni woman requires accepting that diplomacy is just warfare by other means.
“The Elena Volkov Foundation will provide legal advocacy, safe housing, and financial support for victims of domestic violence throughout the tri-state area,” Maya explains to the assistant district attorney as she gestures toward the detailed proposal on the conference table.
“In exchange, the federal government acknowledges our family’s commitment to legitimate business practices and closes outstanding investigations into past territorial disputes. ”
“Mrs. Volkov, your foundation represents a significant investment in community welfare,” Assistant District Attorney Richardson admits while he reviews the documentation. “Though I confess surprise at seeing organized crime families pivot toward philanthropy.”
“Surprising circumstances create surprising solutions,” I interject from the head of the table. “My wife’s influence has inspired a more constructive approach to problem-solving.”
Maya shoots me a look that promises retribution if I continue making her sound like a civilizing influence on my savage nature, but her smile carries warmth that makes my chest expand with pride.
The past year has transformed not just our operations but our relationship, evolving from a survival-based partnership into something that resembles actual marriage.
“The foundation will be funded through profits from our legitimate business ventures,” Maya continues, ignoring my commentary. “Shipping, real estate development, and construction projects that employ hundreds of people throughout the region.”
“And your previous less-legitimate ventures?”
“Have been transferred to allied families or dissolved,” I reply honestly. “Violence is bad for business when you’re trying to build something that lasts generations.”
Richardson closes the file and nods with genuine approval. “I’ll recommend that the attorney general accept your proposal. Though I should mention that any return to previous activities would void this agreement.”
“Understood. You’ll find that domestic bliss has a remarkably pacifying effect on former criminals.” I stand and extend my hand. “Thank you for your time and consideration.”
After Richardson leaves with promises to expedite the federal approval process, Maya remains seated at the conference table while I pour myself vodka from the bottle I keep in our new office safe.
“Domestic bliss,” she repeats with a chuckle. “Is that what we’re calling this arrangement?”
“I’m calling it the most profitable year of my criminal career, thanks to your planning and my operational experience.” I settle into the chair beside her and reach for her hand. “Though I admit the domestic aspects have exceeded my expectations.”
“Your expectations involved a wife who stayed home and baked cookies while you conducted business.”
I lift a finger and shake it. “No, no. I wanted territorial expansion, and technically, I got that. Everything else has been a pleasant surprise.” I bring her hand to my lips and press a gentle kiss to her knuckles.
“Including discovering that legitimate businesses generate more sustainable revenue than criminal enterprises.”
Maya leans back in her chair with a contented sigh. “Father Bianchi called this morning. The dedication ceremony for the foundation opening is scheduled for next Sunday at the cathedral.”
The mention of the foundation we’re opening in Elena’s name brings a familiar combination of grief and gratitude that accompanies any discussion of my first wife.
The Elena Volkov Foundation represents our attempt to create something positive from tragedy, and we’ll hold an annual event to serve as a gathering point for all the families now working under our alliance.
“How many attendees are we expecting?”
“Representatives from twelve families, plus federal and state officials who want to demonstrate support for our transition. Max thinks we should use the occasion to announce our expansion into legitimate construction contracts.”
“Your brother has developed a talent for timing public relations announcements.” I join her at the window and wrap my arms around her waist from behind. “I’m willing to bet his real motivation involves demonstrating our family’s stability to potential business partners.”
“Stability that depends on our marriage continuing to serve everyone’s interests.”
“Our marriage serves my interests. The question is whether it serves yours.” I turn her around until she’s facing me. “Any regrets about staying with the man who kidnapped you and forced you into matrimony?”
Maya slides her arms around my neck and leans into my embrace. “Only that it took me so long to realize you were worth keeping. That said, I reserve the right to change my mind if you start taking me for granted.”
“Taking you for granted would be the stupidest mistake I could make.” I lean down and kiss her forehead. “Besides, I’ve grown accustomed to having a partner who handles negotiations for me.”
“Partnership works better than dictatorship, apparently. Who would have thought?”
Before I can respond to her sarcasm, Maya’s phone rings with Vincent’s distinct ringtone. She answers on speaker, remaining in my arms.
“Please tell me the Queens construction project is proceeding without complications,” Maya says by way of greeting.
“Ahead of schedule and under budget,” Vincent reports. “Which means we’ll have three additional revenue streams operational before the end of the year.”
“Combined with the shipping contracts and real estate developments, we’re looking at profit margins that exceed anything we have generated through criminal activities,” I observe.
“Profit margins without the constant threat of federal prosecution or territorial wars,” Vincent adds. “Though I have to ask, do either of you miss the excitement of our previous lifestyle?”
Maya and I exchange a look before she responds. “I find federal negotiations and construction deadlines provide sufficient excitement for my needs.”
“What about you, Andrei? Any nostalgia for the days when problems were solved with bullets instead of lawyers?”
“None whatsoever. Though I do miss the simplicity of shooting people who disagreed with me.” I tighten my arms around Maya as she laughs. “Legitimate business requires significantly more patience than criminal enterprises.”
“Patience is good for character development,” Maya points out.
“Character development is overrated when you’re dealing with bureaucrats who think domestic violence is a municipal issue rather than a federal crime.”
After ending the call with Vincent, Maya and I drive to our new home in the Hamptons.
The estate we purchased six months ago represents everything I never thought I wanted—sprawling grounds where future children can play safely, formal gardens for hosting diplomatic gatherings, and enough space to accommodate both our families during holidays and special occasions.
“Father Bianchi wants to discuss long-term plans for the foundation during Sunday’s ceremony,” Maya mentions as we navigate Manhattan traffic. “He thinks Elena would approve of how we’ve honored her memory.”
“Elena would approve of the foundation and the way we’ve turned tragedy into purpose.” I reach across the center console and take her hand. “She would also approve of you.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. Elena always believed that love could redeem even the darkest circumstances. Our marriage proves she was right.”
The drive to the Hamptons takes us through familiar territory where we once conducted criminal business, but now, the same routes lead to construction sites and shipping facilities that operate within legal boundaries. The transformation feels symbolic of everything we’ve accomplished together.
As we enter our home—a mansion that serves as our residence and a symbol of our successful transition to legitimacy—I realize that redemption is possible when you find someone worth changing for.
The criminal empire I spent sixteen years building through blood and fear has been replaced by something infinitely more valuable: a legitimate legacy that our future children can inherit without shame.
Elena’s memory lives on through the foundation that bears her name, while Maya’s love provides the foundation for everything we’re building.
“I love you,” I tell Maya as we settle onto our living room sofa overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.
“I love you, too,” she replies while curling against my side. “Even if you kidnapped me and forced me into marriage.”
“I did us a favor. Otherwise, we never would have discovered how perfect we are together.”
As the sun sets over our empire, I know that whatever challenges await our family, we’ll face them together. The Volkov name might have begun with tragedy and revenge, but it will continue with love and hope and the promise that some stories really do have happy endings.
The End