One

Damian – Age 12

As I stand in my cubicle at the shooting range on our estate, practicing with the rounds I've been using since I turned six, I hear my name shouted. I put the safety on my 9mm Glock and turned to see my father, Dimitri Volkov, standing next to Stefano Russo.

Stefano stands in a dark navy suit that hangs a little off his frame. Standing at 5’11”, his light brown hair is slicked back, and his dark blue eyes assess me, while my father, also at 5’11”, stands next to him in a fitted black suit, his dark hair messed up on the top like he'd been shifting his hands through it. His hazel eyes gaze at me hard. My brother Alexandr and I take after our father in looks—same dark hair, chiseled jawline, and height—while our bright blue eyes, take after our mother. I take a step toward them and hold my hand out to Stefano.

"Mr. Russo, it's a pleasure to see you again," I say in my most polite voice, which is difficult, considering I don't like the cunt much. And his wife is worse. Our families have always had a love-hate relationship, but that is expected as we're the Bratva and he's the Italian Mafia. He shakes my hand and nods. Jackass.

I look at my father, and ask, "Is everything alright, Father? You don't normally interrupt my practice unless it's urgent."

My father looks me in the eyes, starring me down, probably hating how blunt I was in front of a frenemy, but I honestly don't give a shit; he taught me to be this way, and it's obvious he's decided on something, something big enough to come down to the shooting range personally.

"Unfortunately, this is something that cannot wait, son. Come meet us in my office at the house with your brother." He turns to leave with Stefano while I stand there, staring at their retreating backs. Great.

After I clean up my armory, I spend about ten minutes searching for my brother. I find him in his room, playing on the Xbox. His curtains are closed, and he is sprawled out on his king-sized bed, screaming into his mic. With a smirk, I pick up the basketball next to his door and throw it, hitting him on the side of the head. He looks up with a scowl on his face, and I chuckle. Before he can bite my head off or slit my throat with how pissed he is at me for interrupting his game, I tell him about the sudden meeting. He looks at me with his eyebrows raised, his mouth opening slightly in shock.

Yeah, that's how I felt, brother.

He tells the people he's playing with that he's AFK, and logs out of the game.

"Do you know what this is about? It seems strange for Father and Stefano to meet, let alone want to have us involved. Do you think they found out about the warehouse we blew up accidentally last week while drunk off father's scotch?" he asks. I just shrug, trying not to laugh at the memory. I have no idea, but if it is about that, why is Stefano in our house, mostly calm, instead of retaliating against us?

We go down the curved staircase, where famous paintings of shit I don't give a fuck about line the walls. Once at the bottom, we pass the living room where our babushka Mila sits reading one of her books, completely engrossed, not noticing us walk by as we turn left down the hallway to our father's office. We stop outside the massive black door and knock, waiting for the "enter.”

When we enter his office, Father is sitting behind his desk, and Stefano is standing beside him, his hands in his pants pockets. The blinds are open, sending light into his office, the brown walls are dark, and more paintings hang from them. It always seems cold and murky in here, and I fucking hate it. Alexandr greets both men while I stand, looking at my father.

"Boys, take a seat!" Father says. He didn't ask, he was telling. But I stay standing, and he looks at me, raising his right brow, knowing I don't want to be here. He nods to the seat before me, not wanting to repeat himself. He may be a fucking awesome dad, despite being a Pahkan, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't kick our asses if we had to be told to do something more than once. So, I sit next to my bother on the opposite side of my father’s mahogany desk, keeping my eyes locked on my father. I shift my gaze when Stefano speaks.

"Ok, boys, as of this morning, your father and I have signed a contract to unite our families in marriage," he says, looking at me. I look at my father, who is also staring at me. At the same time, my brother squirms in his seat, probably now realizing why we're here, unlike me, who is confused as fuck. Still, you don't need to be a genius to figure out I'm the one they are talking about marrying someone, but why?

My scowl deepens. Seriously, I'm fucking twelve. I don't want to even think about marriage. What the fuck!

My father looks at me. "I understand this won't be easy, but it must be done. The Irish are getting stronger, and Pádraig Murphy is already looking for a bride for his son Noah, who is fifteen. A marriage between one of my boys and Stefano’s daughter, Sofia, would strengthen the alliance between us, and also ensure Murphy cannot try and bargain with Stefano for more territory, which is right next to ours. He's been trying to take out both our organizations for years, and seems to think Noah marrying Sofia will give his son the Irish and Italian Mafia to rule. And with Padraig looking into dabbling in human trafficking, we don't want any part of it." He sighs. "Damian, we have decided that you would be a more appropriate groom because you will be the next Pahkan."

My heart rate quickens. "Why am I the next Pahkan? Alexandr is a year older; he is next in line, not me!" I say frantically, finally losing my cool. This was not the plan! I want to live free and party, not rule!

My father's face hardens, not expecting my outburst. Stefano's eyebrows reach his hairline, and he looks at my brother, who looks at both men and sighs, before turning to me. "I wouldn't make a good leader. I don't have the same focus as you do. Father and I had a meeting last week, and we thought I'd make a better avtorityet as your third, and Sergi your sovietnik, your second. Brother, I'm sorry, but we've spoken a lot about this. You knew this might happen; we've been discussing this for a few years.”

I slump back in my seat, knowing he is right. He’d been diagnosed with ADHD when he was five, and has always struggled with focusing, causing more harm than good most times. I look at my father and then Stefano.

"When?"

Stefano looks at my father with raised eyebrows, obviously surprised that I didn't fight it, but what would be the point? This has been decided, and there's nothing I can say that would change their minds. I have to do this for the Bratva, my family, and, more importantly, my brother. He needs me to do this.

My father looks at Stefano and nods. "The wedding will take place when Sofia turns twenty, so twelve years from now. As soon as you are married, we will both train you, not only to be Pahkan, but also Don of the Italian Mafia." My back straightens at this news. I know they mentioned Padraig Murphy hoping for that for his son, but I didn't expect it for me. I thought my father would let his second take over.

I look to Stefano, and he also sighs. "I want my organization to stay in the famiglia, and my daughter needs a strong man to be her husband, someone who can handle my men. After many meetings, we, your father, and I, believe you are the right choice. This won’t be easy for you, Damian, your mother, and my wife are against this, but know they have no say where business is concerned. However, we came up with a compromise to keep the peace."

Shit, a compromise!

This can't be good for me.

“Both wives were brides of arranged marriage, and I don't want to see our children go through what they did. Your mother, Damian, loved your father before their arrangement. They had to hide it from their parents. They broke the rules and met up behind their parents’ backs, but my wife, well, we hated each other at the start, and as time passed, our love grew. Well, I thought it did, until recently. I have it on good authority that she has strayed several times. I can't kill her because of Sofia. I can't divorce her because it's just not our way, so I've decided to have some mistresses myself, even if it does break my heart that my marriage is a lie."

Well fuck!

Now, I'm no virgin, thanks to my dad taking me and Alexandr to one of his strip clubs last year, which we quite enjoyed, and still do now and then. The mistresses don't surprise me, it's the fact he's being so open about his marriage and the hell his wife is putting him through.

"I'm not saying you must love or be faithful to Sofia, just hide it from her so she doesn't get hurt. She's a good girl, innocent in this world. As a compromise, we need you to befriend her, make her fall for you, court her, and propose as an ordinary man would for his woman. Make her seem special enough that she’ll fall in love with you naturally. Keep whatever women you wish to have behind the scenes—just don't knock them up. And you never know, you may come to the same conclusion as your father and me. You two are right for each other and may fall in love anyway.

This seriously is a joke, right? Me? Fall in love? Is he high? Drunk? I look at my brother. His eyes are wide, his mouth hanging open, so I know I'm not hearing things.

Fuck!