Page 4

He sat reclined in his chair, fingers drumming against the mahogany table as I stepped into his office. The air was filled with the sweet aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the rich scent of his cologne.

“ Pakhan Artem,” I greeted, my tone laced with reverence, head slightly bowing in respect.

“Alexei, cousin,” he replied, his lips curving into a welcoming smile. “Come. Sit.” He gestured at the armchair across his desk.

As Pakhan , Artem was a ruthless man who smiled less, most often with a signature scowl on his face, a scowl so intimidating it could make his enemies pee their freaking pants. However, he wasn't like that around members of the Tarasov family—he was a little more jovial, especially around me.

Of all the Tarasov brothers, Pakhan Artem was closer to me, and that was a great honor. I'd learned a million things from this wise man; his leadership skills were worth emulation.

I admired him particularly because he could strike a perfect balance between his private life and business. Since I knew him, he'd never mixed the two. He was a loving husband and caring father but also a ruthless strategist who never compromised his standards at work.

Artem's love story was an inspiring one—the way he found peace and love in his wife, Sierra, was so random, but in the end, it turned out just fine. As remarkable as that was, I didn't think I was ready for a long-term commitment. At least not yet, anyway.

My cousin, Afanasy, had said the same thing some time ago, same as his brother, Roman. Now, both men were happily married—a concept that seemed almost impossible, considering the type of life we lived.

I pulled the chair back, adjusting my suit as I took a seat. “You asked to see me?” I said, reclining into the chair.

“I did,” he replied, eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled, rising to his feet. “But first, how are you?”

“Well.” I tilted my head to the side, a soft scoff escaping my lips as I recalled the activities of the week in a split second. “I've been…living life, I guess.” The slight pause came when I jerked my eyes, watching him walk over to a polished wooden cabinet behind his desk.

“That's good to know, cousin,” he said, his deep voice smooth as silk. “Life is too short. Enjoy it while you still can.”

“Yeah, and it helps that I'm still single,” I teased, lips curling into a mischievous grin.

“Ah! The eternal bachelor.” He laughed, opening the cabinet to reveal an array of fine liquor bottles. “How many hearts have you broken this month alone?”

I chuckled, scratching the back of my head. “None, actually.”

He shot a quick glance at me, eyes squinting ever so slightly. “Why do I find that hard to believe? Scotch or vodka?” He revealed the two bottles, his gaze meeting mine.

“Scotch, please,” I replied. “And I'm telling the truth; it's been all about work the past few months.”

Pakhan Artem returned the bottle of vodka, withdrew two crystal glasses, closed the cabinet, and then waltzed back to his desk. “Maybe that's a sign that you're ready to settle down,” he teased, pouring generous amounts into the two glasses before handing me one with a mysterious glint in his eyes.

My brows furrowed, and I dispelled the thought that there was a secret message behind his words. “Thank you.” I accepted the glass.

He raised his glass in a silent toast before taking a sip. “Now, let's discuss the reason I called you here.” Pakhan Artem walked over to his seat, settling in it.

I sipped from my glass and then set it on the table, paying rapt attention with a hand under my chin.

“Oscar Campbell is in trouble,” he said, his gaze holding onto mine. “His company is in quite the mess.”

“Yeah, I heard,” came my reply as I leaned closer. I rested my arms on the table, my interest piqued. “The story spreading like wildfire is that he had some huge losses due to debt and declining market shares. There are also claims of money laundering, embezzlement, and corruption.” I let out a dismissive laugh. “Every company has those anyway.”

“That's not all,” said Pakhan Artem, gently swaying in his swivel chair. “Campbell's company has been struggling for some time now. Their earnings have been…well, substandard, making them a prime target for takeover.”

My brows arched at Mr. Campbell's predicament. He was in a tight spot.

“The company's third-quarter fiscal results revealed a 12% decrease in reported Earnings Before Interest and Taxes,” he added, further elaborating the gravity of the situation.

I rubbed my forehead, whistling softly. “That's quite the hit.”

“It is,” he said, his tone retaining its usual calmness.

I was still in the dark about why he was telling me this, and a faint crease formed between my brows, accentuating the puzzled expression on my face. “Okay, so…?” I drawled, my tone laced with curiosity.

“So, we swoop in like the fucking cavalry and save the day,” he replied, leaning forward, elbows on the table. “We're gonna save Oscar's company from crashing to the ground. The Tarasov Bratva is all he has, anyway.” A calculated glint flickered in his eyes.

Artem had something up his sleeves; I could tell. This help he was willing to render wasn't because he cared, no. Artem was looking at a bigger picture—ways to grow the Bratva business; hence, whatever he had in mind, I was certain it would benefit us greatly.

Oscar was a powerful man: influential and well-connected with friends in high places. The man was better as an ally than a foe, and my ever-wise Pakhan understood that.

Helping him at this time of his life would mean creating a lasting alliance with a man who had the president's contact on his phone. His connection with the US government would be beneficial to the Bratva's long-term goals.

Artem continued, “We'll provide him with the financial support he so desperately needs. We'll support him and help him get back on his feet.” A mischievous grin twitched on the corner of his lips as he leaned back in his chair. “In return, we'll get his loyalty and his company's influence.”

I nodded, taking another sip from my glass. The potential benefits of this alliance couldn't be more glaring.

“Oscar's partners have all abandoned him, and the Bratva will take advantage of that,” he added, sipping his wine. “He's at his lowest right now—desperate—so he'll give in to our proposal.”

“Indeed,” I muttered, admiring the evil in his genius, the manipulation behind his plan. He was playing this well.

However, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this—especially with the way he had his gaze pinned on me.

“There's just a little catch to solidify this deal,” he added without taking his eyes off me.

I squinted for a moment before my eyes slowly widened at the realization of where this was going.

Holy shit…hell, no, I thought to myself, recalling his statement earlier about me settling down.

Fuck. I knew exactly what he was going to say, and I didn't like it.

“I'm setting you up with Oscar's eldest daughter,” he declared, watching my reaction.

My brows arched in disbelief. “Lorena? That spoiled brat?” My mind darted to my last encounter with her three years ago.

The girl was disrespectful and had a sharp tongue that she needed to brittle. There was no way that I could live with such a girl under the same roof without all hell breaking loose. She was stubborn and a little aggressive—but maybe that had been the alcohol in her system, which she wasn't supposed to have taken in the first place.

Artem chuckled. “She might be a spoiled brat, but she is her father's daughter—smart, brilliant, and not to mention beautiful.”

“The last time I saw her, she was a kid—annoying and naive,” I said, my voice laced with a glimmer of disdain, brows knitting together ever so slightly.

Her disrespect that night still lingered on the fringes of my mind. I hadn't forgiven that yet. And the only reason she got away with that attitude was because she was still a child.

Now, I was expected to marry her?

“Well, Lorena isn't a kid anymore, Alexei,” Artem said, his chuckle trailing off. “She's all grown up now—21. That's about the same age my wife was when I married her.”

“At least Sierra wasn't sassy and disrespectful,” I said, my scowl deepening. I hated the idea that I was his candidate for this deal.

“That's arguable.” His brows arched, a scoff escaping his lips like he'd taken a quick trip down memory lane. “Look, I know this is sudden,” he began, noticing my disapproval of this plan. “But we need this alliance as much as Oscar does, and I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't see a future with the Campbells.”

I was silent for a moment, rubbing my eyes and considering my options. This was a huge task with an even heavier burden, but the Pakhan was entrusting me with it. He could've passed this to anyone else, but he chose me, and as much as I despised that spoiled little brat, I trusted my Pakhan's judgment.

This alliance would definitely benefit the Bratva for a very long time, and that was what was more important to me. My loyalty was with the Tarasov Bratva, and I'd do just about anything to see it succeed, even if it meant marrying the most annoying girl in the world.

Pakhan Artem had my best interest at heart. He'd never bring this up if he didn't think it would flourish. Never had he led me or anyone under him astray, and he wouldn't start now. Pakhan Artem was a wise and strategic thinker. I just had to trust him.

“When was the last time you saw her?” His question snapped me out of my thoughts, bringing me back to the present.

“Three years ago,” I replied, holding his gaze.

He cocked his head to the side. “No wonder you still think of her as a child.” A light laugh came forth. “I saw her about a week ago at an event, and trust me…she’s ripe in the right places.” His lips curled into a sly grin. “You'll like her.”

Somehow, I found that hard to believe. The picture of that annoying teenager, flat in every way, still clouded my mind. I was unable to imagine this beautiful woman Pakhan Artem was trying to paint.

Seeing, they said, was believing, and I was of that philosophy. Maybe I'd believe it when I saw her for myself. But for now, I'd make do with that haunting picture in my head.

I wasn't agreeing to this because of her, anyway; it was because of the Bratva's interest. Marrying her and probably living a life of misery was a price that I was willing to pay for a cause I believed in.

My decision had nothing to do with Lorena Campbell or her so-called beauty.

I heaved a sigh, jerking my eyes to look at my Pakhan . “Fine. I'll do it.”

“Atta boy.” A smile played on his lips, satisfaction coloring his eyes. “I knew I could count on you.” He extended a hand to shake mine.

My shoulders relaxed, and a smirk crept onto my face as I took his hand, sealing the deal.

I could have said no. I could have easily declined the offer, and he would have just passed it to someone else. But now, seeing that smile and pride on his face, I was glad I hadn’t let my selfishness get in the way.

Turning him down would have been a disappointment, and that would’ve haunted me for a long time. It would’ve severed my closeness with him, and that would've been catastrophic to me.

The fact that Pakhan Artem didn't command my compliance, even though he could have, was more than enough reason to trust him.