Page 1 of The Bratva’s Arranged Virgin Bride (Fokin Bratva #8)

I slid my car past the long line of others waiting for the valet.

Stopping in front of the doors of the new LA hotspot, I hopped out, tossing the keys to the head valet.

He gave me a nod and a thumbs-up. I coasted past the eager, impatient people on the other side of the velvet ropes, grinning when I heard some of them complaining after I was waved inside like I owned the place.

Which I did, now.

I had been in sunny Los Angeles for two months, quietly starting a new empire, and no longer felt like there was any reason to keep hiding. I finally had everything in enough order that I could start making waves and taking charge of things. The way I liked it.

Despite being open for only a week, the club was packed with people eager to be seen there.

Dancing, drinking, crowding the DJ stage, always on the lookout for that elusive someone or something.

The strobes over the dance floor flashed hypnotically, and professional photographers prowled the perimeter of the crush, hoping to get an exclusive shot of one of Hollywood’s many famous faces.

It was thanks to them that the popularity of the place took off so fast, but it had been my carefully orchestrated PR campaign that got them there.

A pack of sheep, all of them, and easily herded.

A platinum blonde who was probably more plastic than flesh draped herself over me as I made my way toward the stairs to the second level.

Her hair hung down below the level of her painted-on dress, which barely covered her ass.

A long, spray-tanned leg wrapped around my hip as she stood on her sky-high heels to whisper in my ear.

I couldn’t hear a thing over the loud thump of the DJ's music, but her toothy smile and hot breath on my neck were enough of a clue that she knew I was someone who could give her something. She wasn’t at all my type, and I peeled her talons from my jacket lapels, giving her a winning smile.

Later , I mouthed to her, aiming a significant look at one of the nearby bouncers guarding the steps to the VIP area. He nodded briskly. There would be no later, but I had no doubt this tenacious woman wouldn’t be lonely for long.

Once upstairs, it was slightly less noisy, but just as crowded.

The highest echelon of Los Angeles players sat around the polished wood tables, the more subtle lighting illuminating the signature drinks and thousand-dollar bottles of wine strewn out before them.

I had a moment of pride at what I’d managed to accomplish in so short a time, but it was tinged with doubt as I scanned past the tables to my private booth.

One of the guards sidled up to me as I took note of everyone who was there, as well as who wasn’t.

“He’s here,” the guard told me. “Arrived about half an hour ago.”

Early. To make me feel the need to apologize for keeping him waiting? Not likely to happen in this lifetime.

“Good and liquored up, I hope?” I had instructed my employees to roll out the red carpet, including the very best vodka, if he showed up at all. It couldn’t hurt to loosen him up.

“He declined everything but seltzer water.”

Of course he did. Couldn’t expect my staid older brother to have a bit of fun.

Still, he did show up when I was almost certain he wouldn’t.

I finally contacted Arkadi, who had been living in LA quite happily for several months before I got there, and half expected him to refuse to see me since we’d never been on the best of terms—not even as children.

I meant to change that.

I dismissed the guard, telling him to have the vodka sent to the table anyway, and headed past the other tables. Rounding the corner to my private booth, Arkadi didn’t look happy to be there. When he saw me, his scowl deepened.

But when was Arkadi ever delighted to see me?

That was no shock. Nothing I ever did was good enough.

I was a damn billionaire in my own right, and it wasn’t like he could judge the ways I made my fortune.

I had a team of men working for me that could rival any of Arkadi’s people, and he still didn’t respect me.

That was another thing I meant to change.

Oh, it wasn’t like I hadn’t been offered a position in the family business after our father died.

But that wasn’t out of any brotherly bond.

More of the desire to keep me where he could see what I was doing.

I almost accepted the spot, but bailed when I learned I’d be taking orders from our Uncle Eldar.

There were few people I despised more than our father’s brother, and couldn’t believe Arkadi didn’t have the degenerate old man eradicated from our family once he was in charge.

It was only recently that I heard about what happened due to my brother’s displaced trust, not that anyone would ever admit I was right all along, least of all Arkadi.

It wasn’t quite enough that Eldar had been undermining the family organization for years.

After our dear uncle had Arkadi’s wife kidnapped and tried to sell her to the highest bidder in a black-market auction, Eldar was finally out of the picture.

It was long past time to heal the rift between Arkadi and me, and I was going to be the bigger man and make the first step.

A pretty young woman in the club’s skimpy uniform popped out from the shadows to remove the velvet rope blocking off the private area. As soon as I was past, she hooked it back up again and disappeared just as quickly.

“Married life must suit you,” I said, easing into the booth across from him. “You’re looking very healthy.”

“You look exactly the same as the last time I saw you,” he grunted. “In Milan.”

“I think it was Rome,” I reminded him. “You and Mila were staying in my villa.”

He all but snarled at me. It probably wasn’t a good idea to remind him that I had inadvertently given away their hiding place, putting Mila’s kidnapping into motion.

I certainly wasn’t going to tell him that no good could come from keeping secrets, because I didn’t feel like getting popped in the mouth.

He thought I didn’t know him at all, but no one could make me believe he didn’t already blame himself for what had almost become of his beloved bride.

“So, what do you want?”

He looked even more unhappy than when I first saw him stewing over his bottled water. I waved my hand, and the vodka appeared, along with two glasses and dishes of olives and the best French cheese.

“Well, since you haven’t invited me over for dinner, I decided to bring you to my place.”

He rolled his eyes, but accepted the shot glass, knocking it back before I could hold mine out for a toast.

“It’ll be a hot day in Siberia before I let you in my house,” he said, slamming the glass down. “Cut to the chase so I can get home.”

I suppressed a long sigh. Fine. Leaning across the table, I gave him a shrewd look, assessing how much of the warlord was still hidden in my newly domesticated brother. I refused to think that part of him was gone forever, no matter who he’d married.

“I didn’t just come here to rule Hollywood’s nightlife,” I said. “I have big plans.” He raised an eyebrow, and I continued. “Together, we can push the Fokins out of LA. Hell, out of California altogether. We can rule the way the Mikhailovs do in Moscow.”

Arkadi’s laugh was bitter. “You’ve decided to go by Mikhailov again? Outgrown our mother’s name?”

My scowl matched his as he waited disdainfully for my answer. Yes, I’d been going by our mother’s maiden name, but only because she was the one who treated me like family when I was cast out.

“I had no choice in where I was sent to live,” I reminded him.

“Sent to live?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up so high they almost disappeared. “You wanted to go with our mother.”

“She had no one after the divorce, and you know it. Father had no use for me.” I closed my eyes against one of my worst childhood memories—and I’d seen men being tortured by the time I was six.

Our parents had been forced to marry. From the beginning, they despised each other, and admittedly, my mother could be a handful.

Our father was a cruel tyrant. He had his favorite son, the only thing that probably kept him from having our mother disappear off the face of the earth when she could no longer live under his roof anymore.

Svetlana Cheslov wasn’t completely without power, which would benefit Arkadi one day.

Too many people my father relied on would have balked at her untimely demise, and it might have hurt my brother’s future reign.

A divorce was the best they could do, and she was able to leave with a great deal of money, which pissed my father off enough to demand both sons.

As if I weren’t even in the room at the time, my mother asked what would become of me.

She knew I wasn’t the favorite and rightly feared I’d be cast aside, sent to some obscure relative’s house, and forgotten.

He outright sneered in her face that I was indeed a burden to him, but he’d take great joy in depriving her of something she loved.

She’d never see me again; maybe no one would.

She had flown at him, scratching at his face, swearing and spitting.

He easily tossed her to the ground, and I tried to stop him as he leaned down to smash her with his fists.

I was sent flying across the room, and my mother gave in, pleading for him to relent and let her take me.

She had to give up her monetary settlement, every last ruble.

I held my breath, waiting. My mother loved fine things, and it was several long heartbeats before I learned if she loved them more than her second son.

She finally agreed, and we were exiled from Russia.

Arkadi never knew any of that, even after things calmed down and became less malignant. I had too much pride to ever tell him how I knew from day one how unimportant I was to the head of the Mikhailov family, and God only knew what our father filled his head with.

I wanted to mend the rift between us, not deepen it, so I shook off the past and let out a breath. “You can’t make me believe Father was offended by me going by Cheslov. He never cared about me. I was never good enough.”

“No one was ever good enough for him,” Arkadi said, clenching his jaw. “The important thing was to keep trying.”

He paused as if there was more to say, and even remaining silent, I could easily see that he didn’t believe I ever tried hard enough.

Out of all the ways I had gained my fortune, starting from nothing, no less, and the vast network of important, useful people who surrounded me, would any of it have impressed our father?

It certainly didn’t seem to impress Arkadi.

“We’ve wasted a lot of time rehashing things that aren’t important,” I said, halting the argument even though I still felt wronged. “What’s important now is regaining all that territory you were so proud of.”

His eyes went as hard as diamonds at the mention of what he’d lost to the Fokins over the course of just a year. A muscle ticked in his jaw, then his whole face softened as he shook his head.

“I no longer want to fight with the Fokins,” he told me. “I’m happily married to one now, remember?”

I blinked, stunned. “That’s not just a long-running ruse?”

“I’m not a con man like you are, Kolya. I love my wife.” He stood up, leaning over me with a menacing look on his face, so similar to my own. “There will be no threats against the Fokins, even if they don’t yet accept me.”

He grimaced, clearly wishing he hadn’t said that last bit, not that I didn’t already know he was persona non grata with his new in-laws.

I hid a smirk, looking around. The VIP tables were full of some very powerful people, and there were more downstairs, watching and waiting.

I couldn’t see them, but I’d been informed they were there.

They’d been keeping their eyes on me and my hot new club.

Right now, they were definitely taking note of this meeting with my big brother.

My plan might take a little bit of tweaking now that I understand that Arkadi was actually dedicated to his Fokin bride, but it would still work. I would get what I wanted: my family back.

And more money and power. Lots more money and power. Always that.