Page 6 of The Tsar’s Obsession (Bratva Sinners #1)

Worth It

Kirill

Cigarette smoke curled through the air, thick and heavy, wrapping around the leather seats like a fog. Yuri rolled down his window and coughed a few times before glancing at me in the rearview mirror. He didn’t have to say it. I already knew he disapproved.

He was old enough to be my father, and I would have taken him— any day —over my real father, who broke my family apart the way alcohol broke him down.

But I wasn’t broken; I would never succumb to that disease.

I was at the top, in my prime, my whole world shifting and molding itself to fit my needs.

“How long do you want to stay here?” Yuri asked, diligently keeping his eyes on Mia’s building.

In a way, Yuri was my father throughout my life. Years ago, he worked for Spetznaz, actively recruiting young, fearless risk-takers like me. When I was seventeen, he tried convincing me to join and serve my country instead of the Bratva. He’d failed, and I picked a life of crime.

I’d seen Yuri snap a man’s neck and not even blink; he was a ruthless killing machine. So, when he retired from serving The Motherland, the decision to work for me was a no-brainer.

Yuri had a son who he lost in The Second Chechen War.

I’d seen his photos and recognized the resemblance; we looked somewhat similar.

Over the years, Yuri and I had grown closer, and the dynamic was undeniable—he became the father figure I so longed to have in my life, and I took the place of his son.

We let each other have that. He protected me with his life, and I treated him and his family well, financing his wife in Russia.

Our lives were intertwined in more ways than one; it wasn’t just work. His nephew was my best friend and my second in command back in Moscow.

Yuri understood me. He had known about my obsession for longer than anyone, and he was dedicated to seeing this thing with Mia work out.

“I want to see where she goes at the end of the day,” I responded, but I knew her schedule well. I had a suspicion, and I was praying I was wrong.

The cigarette burned dangerously close to my skin. I would sometimes do that, just to feel the burn. I had to stop smoking; I was too stressed. After seeing Mia two days in a row, I must have smoked a pack, something that hadn’t happened in years.

The image of Ari bursting through her office intruded into my thoughts once more. And planting the idea that Polina and I were together in Mia’s mind! What other swill was he whispering into her ear?

My phone rang at this moment and interrupted all my anger, but I kept my eyes on the lobby of her building, unsure of what I was waiting for.

“So? Did you collect?” I spoke in between puffing out smoke clouds, making Yuri cough again. He never smoked.

“No.” Dmitry delivered the word I never wanted to hear. “He’s refusing. Still playing the same game. I’ll pay him a visit.”

My right-hand man had been both cautious since coming here and unnaturally brutal.

Like he was trying to assert his dominance once more.

There was nothing to prove anymore; we were already at the top.

We had killed and maimed so many men that our reputations preceded us wherever we went.

But that was in Russia. Here, we were just rich ‘investors’, and I had an inkling that Dmitry didn’t like that.

He wanted to establish undeniable power, to show off, and to scare others.

But that wasn’t the name of the game anymore.

“Don’t get involved personally,” I advised, urging him to keep his hands clean. Dmitry was itching to take out his aggression on this particular real estate developer.

Ever since we met when we were just little boys, Dmitry defaulted to violence, playing with his prey. We had similar backgrounds—broken families. His parents were alcoholics, and my father ripped our family apart. We’d bonded over our trauma.

But I was never as heartless as him. I was angry and hardworking. I was calculating and didn’t display too much empathy, but Dmitry was on another level. He was a pillager, and I always had to pull him back from the brink of no return.

“Call Vova. Just send a message. We’re in New York now…we’re civil.” I chuckled, knowing exactly the kind of civility that existed on this side of the ocean. None. Just like back home.

“Done.” Dmitry’s light response ended the conversation just in time for my suspicions to be proven correct.

There, exiting the doors of the building, were Mia and Ari together.

Mia swung her little bag over her shoulder, her long, shiny hair reflecting the sun as she climbed into a town car.

Helping her in was Ari—a man soon to be dead.

That grin . That hand on the small of her back. That look of satisfaction and control. Should I have shot through his skull right in her office? Why wasn’t she telling him to fuck off? Easy. I’d make the decision for her.

“Go after them.” The words left my lips before I could think them over, and without missing a beat, Yuri was already pulling out of the parking spot.

What the fuck was I doing? Following her? Like a real fucking stalker? Never mind that I was aware of her every move for almost a decade. I never personally watched her until today. Twenty minutes later, I diligently observed them walk into another building together.

“Yura?” I called out while I stubbed out another cigarette. “You’ll take care of him?”

“Of course, Kirill Pavlovich, ” Yuri chuckled darkly. “Of course.” We didn’t need to exchange many words. His use of my patronymic name—which I hated—was his way of showing respect, assuring me the job would be done without problems.

My next few days passed in a lovesick state of dysregulation.

This was unlike me. I was always in control.

I was organized, meticulous, and demanding, but God knows my whole personality melted when I laid my eyes on Mia again.

My hunger for her, for her presence, was distracting me from all my issues. And there were plenty.

Italians, for one. Colombians, second. And I was pretty sure Polina was about to deliver the news I suspected.

On days like these, I regretted coming here. Regretted leaving home and restarting all over. I should have just brought Mia back to Moscow; problem solved.

Our little office was inconspicuous, tucked away on a quiet street in East Harlem, the three-story building once belonging to some Catholic parish. The irony of who entered that building now and what it once was wasn’t lost on me.

Polina’s perfume filled up my office, giving me a headache in the process. Her updates were taking forever, and while I listened to her words, mentally, I was somewhere else.

With Mia. For her, I did it all for her. I uprooted my entire life, moved a stable and profitable business, gave up my undisputed position back home, and transported everything across the Atlantic Ocean, so I could be here with her, so I could get her.

It was worth it because, really, she was the reason I was the man I became. I had been possessed with the image of making her mine, and I changed myself, improved myself, and made myself worthy of her.

I had thought about it so many times. What would she have said if some Russian criminal approached her and asked her out on a date? But now, I wasn’t some criminal, no. In fact, I wasn’t a criminal at all! I was a businessman, an investor, and an entrepreneur. A banker even!

My journey to the top was littered with corpses, sins, and mistakes. But not now. Now, all that was in the past; now I was just the man in control. In power.

“Danila called from Moscow,” Polina startled me out of my thoughts with her raspy voice. “Both Ivanov and Rubenstein have placed their men in the Ministry of Finance. Since none of us are there, they’re infringing on our territories,” she huffed. “It was a mistake coming here, Kirill.”

Polina had been with me for a long time. She was sixteen and I was nineteen when our paths crossed. A very unorthodox partner—a woman. Women had no business in my world; everyone knew that. They were mostly used as leverage, as bait, the perfect point of pressure.

There were only a few that were strong enough to withstand the brutality and make a name for themselves throughout the years. Polina was one of them. But I liked working with women. They were easier to get along with, and unlike men, they weren’t as impulsive and emotional.

Polina was my quality control, and like a damn bloodhound, she could sniff out deceit from within our ranks. In the almost sixteen years of working together, she had made a mistake only twice. Undoubtedly, her record of success was impressive, but she was wrong now. It wasn’t a mistake.

“That opinion serves no one. We’re here now—work with it. Danila is a smart boy; he’ll figure it out.” I stood at the window and looked down at the alleyway where my car was waiting for me. “What are these whispers I’m hearing about The Skhodka?”

Every year, I held a meeting with all my top men—The Skhodka. Like it was in the past, I continued the tradition, and this year, I proposed we do it in New York.

Modern Russia wasn’t like the Soviet Union. We didn’t have the same structure or laws as before; we didn’t follow the Thieves’ Code anymore—we merely lived in its shadow. And I was the enforcer.

Polina shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She should have opened up with that, not some drivel about Danila, who was in charge back home. I texted him almost daily and knew all his updates before she did.

“Some…a few don’t want to come to New York for it. Not now, especially not now. Some are proposing Split or Budapest.”

One thing about being in charge and at the top was the never-ending pushback.

Sure, there were entire battalions that were loyal and would kill for me, but there were always a few that pushed the envelope.

Always a couple of men who thought they could do what I did— be better, smarter, more violent.

“Split? They can’t combine this with a vacation.

Most of them own real estate here anyway; what’s the problem with New York?

” I finally turned to her, the shine of her jewelry blinding me.

“Who’s spreading these words of nonconfidence?

” Someone was blatantly defying me. Someone close, someone who I trusted.

“I’m not sure yet. I’ve already put out feelers. Why are we here, Kirill? I mean, why are we really here? You gave up so much with this move, and this year hasn’t proven to be anything to write home about. Literally.”

Something was going on with Polina. Usually talkative and upbeat, she looked dejected and frustrated. She’d also never questioned my judgment before. She owed me her life, and she never forgot the favor I did for her.

“Give it time, Polina.” I shrugged in my chair and played with my lighter. “What’s going on with you? Why are you so…” I wasn’t even sure what she was.

Chewing her lips, her eyes finally met mine. “Dmitry told me. Why you moved us all here? Started from scratch? Gave up literal billions back home. For some broad?” she asked in mild disbelief. “What, you can’t find quality pussy back hom–”

“Enough!” I threw my lighter down on the table with a loud clang.

This was unprecedented. Not once had she allowed herself to speak this way to me.

“Careful with your words, Polina. I understand the transition hasn’t been easy for you.

Go home then.” Fucking hell, personnel problems were growing at an alarming speed.

“I’m not holding anyone hostage. If you feel this has been a mistake, go home and don’t come back. ”

Dead silence fell between us, and Polina’s pale cheeks turned burgundy to match her dyed ginger hair.

Her bottom lip trembled, her tears were imminent, and that unnerved me because I’d never seen her cry.

Not when she’d killed her father, not when the love of her life betrayed her, not when she was shot in the knee.

“I’m sorry.” The whisper turned into a squeak, and she cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. It hasn’t been easy, but I’m faithful to you. Only to you. At least introduce me to your…to your girl?” Why on God’s green earth was she so interested in Mia?! And Dmitry—what a gossip queen!

“Vet every single point of contact with the cartel.” I changed the subject, and Polina nodded, gulping down hard. “I’m going to the Bahamas in a few weeks, and I need your best and strongest to travel with me. Triple check everything and everyone. I don’t want even a hiccup to go unnoticed.”

Her tall silhouette obediently exited my peripheral vision as I swallowed my feelings of unease and annoyance. I headed down to my waiting car to go see her —the whole reason for being here.

It would all be worth it. The change, the doubts, the uncertainty—I would have my light. I would have my sunshine.