Page 74 of Scarlet Vows

“Go to bed.”

She turns and hurries up the stairs, taking my heart with her and leaving me in a pool of regret and frustration.

The next evening,I’m pleased with how the night before went.

“The girl is nice, and she doesn’t want to be a biker’s bitch, as she put it, and she doesn’t want to work for her now fiancé. That would cause too many problems. We have a small outfit that needs a good bartender, a bratva bar we own. Someone pretty who can hold her own and also, I hope, manage it. I offered her the job, and she said yes.”

I grin. “Which also puts them all firmly in our hands, so they’ll play nice.”

“Yes.” Melor picks up his vodka and tops up mine, then his. “I wasn’t sure at first. Your grandfather wouldn’t have cared. He’d have read it as a betrayal of an agreement and taken it out on both parties. This, I think, buys more loyalty. But…”

“But?”

“There is something to be said about taking a hard line when needed.”

“When it’s needed,” I say.

I look at my watch.

It’s been a pretty good day on the home front. A few of the guards are friendlier, but I don’t fool myself into thinkingthey’re going to be the ones who make it all work. The senior bratva members will, and they’re the ones I need to win.

“Melor, can we all go to dinner? Is there a good place the top members like?”

“Russian?” he asks.

“Only if it isn’t seen as pandering.”

He drinks the vodka, seeming to think. “I know the place. Russian owned, American with a Russian touch.”

He books the place, and the invitation is left in his hands to give out. I head there, trying to think of ways to boost morale and to make them see they can trust me. I’m taking a gamble by going early. A good, strong leader would normally head in late.

But a leader who’s confident in himself would wait, especially since the invitation is an order with a pretty bow on top.

“Thank you for coming,” I say when they arrive.

Gregory, Piotyr, Bogdan, and Denis are the most important, and only Gregory and Bogdan speak to me with any modicum of friendliness. The rest do, too, but it’s more a situation of they have to rather than they want to.

We order drinks, and the cliques and solidarity show quickly. I’m leader by name, but I’m not sure they want to see me as such.

I’m unknown, someone they see affiliated with another bratva, and untested.

When we take our seats in the private room of the bare, brick-walled establishment, I let them talk about work, needing to learn their way of doing things. From what Melor said, my grandfather ruled hard and tight and liked to sit back and listen. The latter part I’m in agreement with.

My goal is to find cracks and dissidence, but I’m really hoping to boost morale.

When Melor spins the tale of today, they sit stone-faced,unimpressed, even though I know what we did will benefit the bratva both now and down the line.

They talk amongst themselves about Aleksandr’s greatness, his way of doing things, little stories of times with him and things he said.

I bite down on my annoyance. I get it. This is part of the process, the passing of the torch. They should have the memories and stories. But they also need to look to me.

Melor meets my gaze, and I give a nod.

He gives me the rundown of the bratva’s current conflicts, along with enemies pretending they’re allies. He answers all the questions I throw out, even when they’re aimed at others.

While I do know most of this, we didn’t rehearse it. I just made it my business to catch up on my own. But I also watch the others, reading them, throwing out more questions based on certain reactions.

The only two who answer me are Bogdan and Gregory.