Page 2 of Prince of Control (Bratva Heirs #1)

Ben matches my tone. “I will.” His gaze is intense and serious. “I wish she would move in here.”

“I know, but she wants her freedom. I checked her dorm, and the security is tight. She’ll be okay if she stays vigilant.”

“I have her schedule, so I know where she is at all times and where the potential threats might be.” Ben glances at Anders. “I already took care of the one professor on campus known for preying on female students.”

I flick my eyebrows. This is the first I’ve heard of it. I suppress the sense of alarm that I should’ve known what happened and advised him on his course of action. I taught him a lot, but he may not know how to avoid all legal repercussions. Or where to dump a body in Whisper.

But he probably didn’t handle it that way. He can handle business on his own, in his own way. As much as I want to swoop in and help, I have to let him fly.

Still, I can’t help but remind him, “You know if you ever need help with anything at all , I can send someone out here or come myself. All it takes is one call.” I can’t say in front of Lucy what I mean–that I’ll send a fixer. Or an enforcer. A cleaner. Whatever he needs.

“I know.” Ben’s voice carries the authority of a leader. I see the weight of responsibility for his entire crew–everyone who lives in that house with him–and possibly the entire campus resting on his broad shoulders.

I know the event that made him this way. It haunts me as much as it still haunts him.

But he wears the mantle like a king. He has the strength and fortitude to hold up the leaden crown that rests on his head.

The young prince is all grown up.

My phone buzzes with an incoming text, and I glance at the screen. It’s my Moscow Pakhan Adrian Tergenov, with our code for an emergency.

“Excuse me,” I say to Lucy and Ben. “I need to make a call.” I walk through the house and out the French doors to the enormous, landscaped garden the Baranov House uses for its frequent campus parties.

I hit the call button for Adrian.

At one time, he was my best cleaner. Eighteen years ago, I sent him and his wife Kat to Moscow to take over and run our arm of the bratva there.

“What is it?”

“I have a problem. A big problem.” I hear tightly coiled violence in Adrian’s voice that I haven’t heard since the years when he came to me to seek help in finding his sister and the sex traffickers who had kidnapped her.

“Tell me.”

“It’s about Lara.”

I go still. Lara is Adrian and Kat’s only child, who goes to college in Paris.

Business is business, but anything involving our children is a grave matter.

We violated bratva code when we took wives and had children.

I did it first and allowed the rest of my cell to follow.

The reason marriage is outside of the bratva code is because women and children can be used as pawns against us.

That’s why I doubled down on building an empire and gaining influence. Everything I’ve done has been to keep our families protected.

“Anatoli Rostov’s son, Abrasha, is after her. Now he’s calling me, asking for an alliance in marriage.”

Anatoli Rostov is one of the richest and most dangerous members of the Russian oligarchy. He has homes in Turkey, the Arab Emirates, and the French Riviera. He controls much of the political world in Russia. Ben had a run-in with his son the year he went to boarding school in Switzerland.

We’ve had to battle to accumulate enough power to remain separate from Rostov’s dirty dealings. To build our empire without infringing on his. I had to prove we had enough power–both political and guns–that we weren’t worth messing with.

I thought we had managed to surpass them in terms of power held in Russia, but if Rostov is trying to flip Adrian, we have trouble on our hands.

Rostov is known for sadistic torture and gruesome murders. He uses fear to gain power. Ben reported that his son was a full-fledged psychopath.

“Has he kidnapped her? Is he holding her as leverage?”

“No. It seems they’ve had a few dates. When I asked Lara about Abrasha, she sounded indifferent. But according to Rostov, they’re already a couple. He’s looking to unite our houses in marriage.”

I clench my molars. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him I could not because my daughter had a long-arranged marriage to your son.”

I go quiet, absorbing this.

“It was the only thing I could think of to keep her free of his clutches. He won’t pick a fight with you, especially not if it’s a marriage arranged from birth.”

I turn to look back through the French doors, where my son still stands with his mother. Ben sees me looking and takes it as a summons. He nods and walks toward the doors.

Blyad’. He would do it. Ben has the same protective instincts I do. He shelters the weak and vulnerable. It’s the reason Thornecroft was the only college I felt comfortable sending Lili to. I know he’ll keep tabs on her and eliminate any dangers.

If I asked him, he would go along with the lie Adrian told, marrying Lara to keep her safe.

But it would end his chosen life. He’s already far older than his years. Do I really want him married at age twenty-two?

Then again, it could be a marriage in name only. He could still have his own life, as long as he keeps Lara safe here at this house and pretends she’s his wife.

Lucy will kill me, though. She never wanted her children wrapped up in the business. Then again, she wouldn’t want to see Kat and Adrian’s daughter trapped in a marriage to the man who tortured everyone weaker than him as a boy.

My mind spins. It might not be forever. Five years, maybe, until Rostov forgets about using Lara as a pawn in his game.

I blow out my breath. “Put her on the next plane to Whisper.”

Adrian’s exhale of relief is audible through the phone. “ Spasiba, Pakhan . You honor me.”

“You’re my brother. I would never let harm come to one of yours.”

I end the call and put the phone in my pocket, staring at the manicured hedges as if they might reveal the perfect way to tell my son that I just locked up what could be the rest of his life.

The French doors open, and Ben walks out. “Did you need something?”

“Yes.” I scrub a hand over my face. “Ben, there’s something I have to ask of you.”