Page 2

ONE

Vlad

H eavy is the head that wears a crown.

But the saying forgets to mention the bloody path it takes to get there. The gym that was only ever used for low-ranking members is charred, and there’s a bloody arm lying under the soot-covered mats. I can’t see the corresponding body and kick it as I walk past. Whoever got rid of the useless fucks has done me a favor. How the fuck does one man cause this level of carnage unless every single person in his path is fucking weak?

Vitali looks around, seeing the same damage as me, and the hesitance on his face makes me pause. He always had the same look when he knew something, even when he was a child. It’s not guilt or remorse, just uncertainty regarding sharing the information.

Holding his nape, I drag him with me away from the fuckers investigating the arson. He doesn’t make a single sound, not even a squeak of surprise, meaning he’s fucked up massively. My bad mood gets worse as I think of all the warnings I’ve given my brothers over the years and trying to find the point that would cause his current reaction. If they’ve weakened me or done anything to get Len and Anika involved in my life, I’m going to regret spoiling them the way I have. He stands strong like he’s been taught the entire journey to the car, and he doesn’t make a sound until I pull the car door open with too much force. He tries to smile, looking like the four-year-old who used to sleep under my bed. My voice comes out too rough, refusing to be soft with him.

“Get in.”

The nine years I spent as an only child were never peaceful, and since leaving Moscow, then Sankt Peterburg, they’ve been a fight. Choosing to be silent, Vitali doesn’t open his mouth the entire drive home. There’s no fear over his life, which is the only thing keeping me calm, and Valentin is already waiting. The two fuckers are only a year apart, thick as thieves gossiping together every chance they get because my brothers have been afforded the luxury of being kept away from our parents.

I go straight to the bar, and I don’t turn as I gauge how badly he’s fucked up.

“How much do I need to drink before you’re ready?”

Holding the decanter, I set two tumblers down and gently pour while looking for him to give a signal to stop. Still not a fucking peep, and I’ve filled one to the brim.

“Fuck it, I’m not wasting liquor. You can start.”

Taking a sip of the ice-cold vodka, he moves from foot to foot and speaks slowly.

“I can’t get to the Kadare’s anymore.”

Both my brothers are useless. How difficult can it be to get your dick up? They fuck anything that moves, but become picky now when it’s important.

“And why can’t you?”

Rolling my hand, he looks to Valentin for help like I’m not here asking a question.

I can deal with whatever the fuck he does. I’ll let my brothers run and give them whatever they need. It’s the reason I’m stuck with the Bratva’s icy princess when she was supposed to be Val’s bride. But this shit pisses me off, and I drop the tumbler, getting his attention back. It makes Vitali rush out, pointing blame where it doesn’t belong.

“Because of what you did.”

There’s no anger in his features and piggy in the middle joins in, coming to his defense like I’m going to attack.

“They think you helped plan what happened to one of their women. Obviously, he isn’t going to be able to get close to her.”

Valentin’s tantrums have begun, and I lean back against the bar. There’s nothing but disgust staring back at me, and I nod, taking a sip again. Spinning the crystal against the bar top, there’s only open curiosity in my question, “What do you think, Valyusha?”

I’ve given everything to these shits. His resentments were supposed to be a teenage phase, not carry into his twenties with more fire.They’ve refused to keep their diminutive names, anything that reminds them of our parents, but he doesn’t correct me.

He forgets who he’s speaking to as he allows his thoughts free. “I think you wouldn’t give a fuck even if you knew, but you aren’t lying.”

I believe in fair fights, not drugging and raping women without them having the tools to fucking defend themselves. There’s no honor to be found in a weak opponent. It makes you a little bitch searching for an ego boost. Gathering steam, he doesn’t hold back, moving closer.

“You’ve pimped your own fucking brothers out for power, so I know you’d do anything. What’s a random woman in comparison?”

His word choice has my hand flying out, and I pull him closer, holding his shirt. Face to face, his revulsion is nothing against my righteous anger. My tone hardens, and I don’t look away from his eyes as I force my features to remain relaxed.

“You’ve fucked your way through the city since you found out your dick isn’t just for pissing. If I’m whoring you out, you owe me a fuck ton of money, dear brother.”

Pushing him away before I kill the fucker, he recovers, stepping closer of his own accord.

“You gave us assignments, told us to fuck them until they’re wrapped around our dicks. What the fuck do you call that?!”

Vitali moves closer, trying to ease the situation and pull the raging idiot away, but he shrugs him away, looking me up and down.

“What have you been doing? Just fucking sat here plotting, moving people around like chess pieces.”

Taking a calming breath doesn’t work, and I hold each of their shoulders like they’re children again because they seem to miss everything. “You already had a way in with Alessi and Kadare. Do you think I chose to marry out of love or some other bullshit? Mikhailovya is the piece for both the Bratva and Verelli.”

I don’t tell them more than they need to know or how Valentin’s dick forced me to change my plans once already.

He doesn’t calm down, but Vitya sees reason. Ignoring the idiot in the middle, he makes his own decision, showing usefulness isn’t applied in chronological order.

“I’ll try calling her. She’s soft and kind-hearted. I’ll make some shit up about you bitching at me.” Tapping away on his phone, he leaves the scene of Valentin’s tantrum.

I don’t look up, and my boredom shows in my voice as I check the time. “Have you got it all out of your system now?”

He shakes his head, his lips curling up as he spews shit he has no knowledge of. “Your thirst for power is going to be your downfall.”

His tantrum is turning to theatrics I don’t have time for. I have to remind myself that he’s a dumb fucking kid, afforded every luxury. That’s why he’s a spoilt bastard, not understanding what’s kept him safe.My middle finger taps on the edge of the bar top three times as he remains a wall of rage.

Little footsteps slowly move into the room until they turn rushed, and mini Vartanov stands in front of me. Vityenka looks up at me, and I scowl at him. He does it back as I ruffle his hair. Valentin’s mood disappears, but he acts like a passive-aggressive teenager taking his son away.

“Shall we go and see what Katya’s doing, little man?”

He picks him up when he’s too old to be carried, and I forgive his outburst at the sight of it. My nephew is still trying to pull a mean face over his dad’s shoulder the entire journey out of the room.

If Valentin needs evidence of why power is so important, all he has to do is turn his head to the side and see his son actually having a fucking childhood. But the immature prick has his head too far up his ass to take reality into account. The idiots have made me waste perfectly good liquor, and I’m already late to whatever show Maximoff has planned for his monthly in-law dinner. The old days when I could take my bride from a village, leaving her family to communicate by pigeon or travel for weeks on horseback, need to come back.

Pulling into the Mikhailov estate, a maid rushes passed me, carrying twelve yellow roses, and I smile, knowing Inessa will have gotten the message. This isn’t a marriage of convenience where she’s concerned. It’s going to be my pleasure affording her every inconvenience imaginable for thinking she can raise her fucking hand to me. Giving a repressed girl locked away from men the opportunity to spread her legs should not have that reaction. She should have offered to suck my dick in thanks. Ungrateful fuck.

Her hair is always the same, flowing down her back, contrasting against her big brown eyes. It’s no different as I step into the foyer, but her cheeks are tinged pink, and the other part of my gift is hugged to her chest. As far as reluctant brides go, she’s appealing to the eye, and she always dresses to fit the ice princess role with her designer dress cut to just above her knees. Playing dutiful fiancé in front of the maids, I kiss her cheeks and keep my voice low., “Is it your birthday?”

It’s not. I have that memorized, but watching the cold-hearted bitch melt from anger is intoxicating.

My darling wife-to-be isn’t a naive girl anymore. She’s grown into a thorny rose, demanding respect. Her shiny golden hair is lighter, icier, and her eyes aren’t filled with warm hope but dark orbs. Extending her voice, thinking I give a fuck, she feigns hurt.

“You’re going to be my husband, but you don’t know when my birthday is?”

Her pout is exaggerated as she flips her hair over her shoulder and walks away.

In a few months, I’ll be surrounded by a drama club with Inessa moving in. She and my brothers will be putting on plays and shit with how dramatic they all are. Maybe it’s fate that the marriage between Valyusha and her has ended. Between his tantrums and her tongue, there wouldn’t have been peace on earth if they had combined themselves in one body.

The maid guides me into the dining room. She can’t hide the fear on her face as I follow her, and I want to scream boo to see if she’ll jump.My reputation has been built fairly, for fuck’s sake. I don’t go on rampages like some uncivilized dick. Every opponent is given an opportunity, but it doesn’t stop her shoulders hunching, expecting me to attack her from behind like a coward.

The respectable gentleman role comes out, and I stay a few paces back. It gives me time to take the new additions into account. My mother and father-in-law are weak bastards, both of them fucking clueless, and the maids will be up all night counting the silverware. Inessa doesn’t resemble either of them. Her features are more striking, whereas theirs are dull and boring.

I make my way towards them, and the maid lets out a little squeak as I pass her. I have to introduce myself when my fiancée ignores my existence. It’s a shame I don’t give a fuck about any of them, and the only thing calling me in their direction is the bar that may help me get through this tedious facade. Her mother is far too friendly, and she blocks my path.

“I’m sure you thought I was Ineska’s sister, but I’m her mother.”

She holds her hand out, and I look at it and then back to her face. I’m not some little fucking bitch to kiss her fucking ring. Her hand moves up, and it lingers on my forearm.

I contemplate fucking her, not because she’s appealing. It would be a good fuck you to her daughter to cement her place. I decide against it when her husband has no reaction. It shows how frequent her behavior is, and there’s nothing worse than a fake fuck, in both manners. Her daughter doesn’t have a reaction either, as she sits at the large sixteen-seater table, sipping her drink demurely.

Brushing the old, weathered fuck off my arm, I go to the younger version and take the seat beside her. I move my chair closer to my bride-to-be, and she doesn’t try to shuffle away for once. These dinners are meant to soften us towards each other, part of Maximoff’s masterplan where his granddaughter is eased into her role. But I’ve never met anyone as dull as Inessa. It’s purposeful. Everything about her is curated to project a certain image to the world, and seeing her parents, I get it. They’re shallow and lack any brain cells. It’s a wonder they managed to figure out where the parts go in order to procreate.

Checking my watch, Maximoff is already four minutes late, and I tap the table with my index finger, counting down and calculating what he’s doing. On the third tap, a delicate hand lands on mine as Inessa curls her fingers around my palm and squeezes gently. All eyes are on my hand, not because she is touching me but because she is picking up on my movements.

Her mother speaks with some fucked up sense of authority that only she believes she has. “Have you moved in together yet?”

Taking a sip of my water, I look at Inessa, watching how she tries to evade the not-so-subtle attempt at an invitation. I nearly spit it out at how different she sounds. The enhanced airhead voice when she’s sharp and witty is almost comical. “Not yet. Vlad is always sooo busy, and I’m really focusing on my volunteer work.”

She takes another sip of her drink and forces herself to slouch.

Her parents don’t pick up on it, and they’re cut off from whatever patronizing comment they’re thinking as more than one pair of footsteps come through the doors. The last two people I would ever want to see are stood beside Maximoff. He’s my Pakhan until I have an heir, so I can’t fucking kill him yet as he introduces the contributors of my DNA. The man by his side is a random old fuck, and Inessa’s hand goes cold on top of mine.

She’s frozen and can’t make eye contact with him as we stand. Keeping her at my side, I hold her hip, and she leans into me or further away from him as he goes to kiss her cheek. My fingers tighten on her hip, and my tone turns deadly, “It’s bad manners to try to kiss a man’s bride, especially when he’s stood beside her.”

The threat is laced between my words, and my respectable mask doesn’t slip as he pales, taking a step back. Whoever the cunt is has Inessa uncomfortable. She’s going to be a Vartanova. There’s no option for her to be weak unless I’m the cause of it. Amongst everyone else in civilization, she’ll raise her chin and keep her shoulders straight. The only time she will bow, will be to me.