Chapter 19

Mikhail sits in the passenger seat, glasses perched on his nose as he rapidly types on his cell phone. Behind us, two more sleek black sedans drive, with another pushing ahead of us. We're done acting like some small fish. Last night proved who the Bratva really belongs to. Our father managed to get one man willing to turn against the Sokolov brothers—one.

Mikhail made short, bloody work of him, leaving him just this side of alive in case we need the prick.

"Working on your game?" I say.

Mikhail laughs savagely. He seems different from his usual lighthearted self, but it's not like I can blame him. His eyes are heavy and introspective with what he had to do, the pain he had to inflict. "I'm covering our tracks," he says, "by making it seem like we never looked into the Serbian's cell phone record."

"Angelo's fielded all the calls from last night," I reply. "If we can get Nikolai to back off, maybe we can return to normal."

"Is there going to be a normal for you after this?" he says, taking off his specs and looking at me.

I stare at the road, refusing to meet his gaze. I know he's talking about Lia.

"Is it that obvious?" I say as our civilian motorcade sits at a red light.

"She's changed you, brother," he replies.

"It's been a week, less than."

"And she's changed you," he says with more emphasis.

I focus on the road as the light changes. We're meeting Nikolai in a private room in a casino. Mikhail drums his fingers on the dash. "Are you saying I'm wrong?"

"I don't know what she's done or how she's done it," I grunt. "I don't know what's happening. Our father died. I saw it. Then there was my woman, and it suddenly began spinning out of control fast. I need time to think."

"You don't need to think," he says passionately. "I can see it. You're different."

"Why do you care so much? Last time I checked, neither of us has ever had a love life."

"Maybe one of us can finally be happy."

"You always said marriage was pointless," I remind him. "You said making somebody a Sokolov would be the worst thing you could do."

He smirks at me, but his eyes are hard and almost angry. "That's why I love you so much, brother. You always remember every little thing."

"Why do I feel like you want to swing on me?"

"When don't I?" he says, trying to smirk away that serious look, but I saw how genuinely pissed he was. "Just don't let Nikolai stop you. We can say it's because of a potential war, but that means we're letting him bully us, just like we let our father bully us."

"Keep these thoughts to yourself when we're in there," I tell him.

He rolls his eyes but nods. The last thing I need is him going off-book.

"You can't have a hacker's mindset about this," I snap. "Throughout history, leaders have wanted to seek fame, heal their nations, make a difference, and all those lofty ideals end in blood—always in blood."

"History's not really my thing, brother."

"That's why I'm in charge."

Petty, maybe, but he's pissing me the hell off, digging too deeply into places better left ignored. I don't know what right he thinks he has. I don't even know what to do about my Lia.

Deep down, something niggles at me. The word bully followed by the word coward… Is that the sort of father I want to be? What if trying to do the right thing means risking the one person I care about most?

Soon, we arrive at the casino. My lead car pulls up first. Denis, who told me the rest of the men want to pledge their allegiance, exits first. Next is our car. I toss the keys to the valet as people begin to turn, exchanging whispers.

"Here comes the circus," Mikhail says, reaching into his jacket and taking out some sunglasses.

I keep mine off, walking into the lobby, ignoring the stares. The hostess is waiting for us, leading us down a narrow, hidden corridor into a large room lit with heavy lights.

"I like this place," Nikolai calls over to me when I walk in. He's sitting at the poker table, tossing a chip around clumsily in his hand. His face is big and red, his bald head is shiny, and he has an unnerving, wet smile.

"We're glad to have you," I tell him. "Are you…"

"Alone?" Nikolai waves a hand. "I know. It's sad, but I thought my men might enjoy the casino more."

"Your men are out there now?" I say.

"Yes… is that a problem?" He's got a shit-eating grin, almost like he's begging for a quick, brutally efficient punch to the face.

"Of course not." I try to match his smile, but there's no way I look like that much of a monster.

Before I can walk forward, Mikhail touches my arm and lowers his voice so only I can hear. "I'll head out to the casino and make sure they're not causing a fuss. The last thing we need is your name linked with theirs."

"Good thinking," I say.

"Your brother doesn't value my company," Nikolai says when I walk over, gesturing at Denis and my other man to wait at the door.

I sit opposite Nikolai. "My brother knows how this works."

"You're a lucky family," Nikolai says. "Many a dynasty has been wiped out when a father suddenly dies."

"Mikhail and I are a team," I tell him. "We always have been."

"Hmm," Nikolai says.

I smirk, leaning back, pretending I don't want to rip his throat out. I killed two men responsible for trying to take my woman, and Mikhail messed up the third. This is the man truly responsible.

"So, why did you want to meet?" I ask.

His expression flickers, the worm. I know he's thinking of last night's failed scheme. I know he's thinking about the fact he hasn't heard from his man. He's wondering, Is Dimitri playing me? Is this real?

"I'm curious about the upcoming wedding," he says after a pause.

"Long way to come for curiosity."

"Can you blame a father?"

"I suppose not," I say. "Except we have two more weeks."

"The way you say that, Dimitri… I'm sorry, but some might think my daughter's not good enough for you."

Thisis what my father wanted, I know, when he arranged this. This was the whole point. He wanted me to have to grovel in front of Nikolai. He knew how much I'd hate it. It's a final fuck-you from the grave.

I know I'm right when I see that glint in Nikolai's eye. I know that he and our father probably talked about this specific moment, the time he'd be able to rub it in my face. I grin and rest my forearms on the table, looking at him straight in those glinting, excited eyes. "We'll have to see how that goes."

He flinches, looking shocked. "See how… the arrangement goes?" he says, scoffing like the idea is ridiculous. "I think I'm confused."

Oh, he's confused, all right. I've been confused, too. My woman has helped me to see that. I am Dimitri Sokolov, and just because my father was an evil man doesn't mean I have to be. "We have a pledge arranged for the day after tomorrow," I say, thinking quickly about what needs to be done. "I'm sure everything will become clear then."

"A pledge?" he says, eyes narrowing. "To swear you in? So soon after the funeral?"

I place my hand on my chest, expressing all the grief a person can feel for my poor, deceased father. I wonder how convincing I look. "I wouldn't have called for it, but my men have insisted. Of course, you want your daughter to marry the Pakhan, don't you, Nikolai? You want her to marry the boss?"

He flinches, giving himself away, then takes a handkerchief from his pocket and dabs his forehead. "Excuse me, Dimitri. I'm not sure if you're aware, but I have hyperhidrosis—excessive sweating."

"Oh, I thought I was making you nervous."

He forces a laugh. "No, you're right. You're right about the pledge, too. Mila will be a Bratva queen when you marry her. Yes. Good thinking."

"I'm sure you'll want to attend, then," I say.

He looks like a trapped animal who'd prefer to be anywhere else, but he forces a nod. I wonder just how bad he is. Is he like my father, free with his fists, saying nothing kind, always putting a person down? Or is he even worse? If this was Lia's father and he had hurt her before… Damn, just thinking that makes my blood boil. He wouldn't be leaving this room alive.

"Yes, of course," he replies.

"It will be good for our families and friends to get to know each other," I say. "After the wedding, we'll spend much more time together for pleasure and business."

He smiles, dabbing away, but his eyes won't settle. He's wondering what happened. If I'm not the one who iced his men, then who? Or if I did ice them, do I know he has a connection with them? It's like I can hear his thoughts fluttering away.

"How are things, anyway?" he says. "Enough business. How are you holding up?"

It's so hard not to smirk at this. He's a decent actor, though, just like my father was and I am. We're all liars in this life, but that will make me more honest and direct with my woman.

"Oh, you know," I say noncommittally. "I'm just glad he made arrangements for me. I think we're going to do good work together."

"Yes, me too. Please let me know about the pledge."

"Of course."

An awkward silence stretches between us. He puts his handkerchief away, then forces another smile. "How's my lovely daughter doing?"

"She's well," I tell him, "but she misses her brother."

"Ah," Nikolai says, an ugly darkness entering his eyes. "Yes, well, he has his place and purpose, just like all children. Look at you, Dimitri. Were you ever free to choose your own path as the eldest son?"

"No."

"And do you hate your father for it?"

"Not for that," I answer honestly. "It's my duty, and I'll do it. I'll make the city a better place."

Nikolai smirks like the thought is absurd.

"For example," I go on, "all of my men know that trafficking is off-limits here."

"You're saying there's no trafficking in Vegas?" His tone is ugly.

"No," I reply. "But it's much harder for people to get away with it. You've heard the stories."

"Men without tongues or hands or feet or cocks left in shipping containers. As a warning."

"Nobody would mourn scum like that."

"You know my business," Nikolai snaps. He deals in flesh, and now he wants to get offended.

"I do," I tell him, "and I meant what I said."

Basically, I'm calling him scum to his face. It's the furthest I can go without getting outright violent with him. After a long pause, I crack a smile and then laugh. He knows it's bullshit. He knows it's fake, but he chooses to laugh with me. That's how so many corpses are avoided in this life—through laughter.

Then he stands, abruptly cutting it off like he wants to make a point of the laughter being fake. "The pledge, then."

I stand, waiting for him to offer his hand. He's so small and weasel-like. When he finally offers his hand, I wait a while before I take it, and then I shake it slowly while looking him in the eye. He walks around the table, approaching the door. Denis stands in his way momentarily, then steps aside, giving me a look.

Denis senses it. Things have changed. What else was I supposed to do, pretend I wanted his daughter, make up a bunch of shit about all the time we've been spending together? No, it's time for the pledge: to do what's right and risk what I have to.

My woman has inspired and changed me. I want to call her this second and tell her the effect she's had on me. I want her to know that she's changed me more just through speaking than I ever thought I could change.

As I leave the narrow corridor and emerge into the main lobby, Mikhail approaches me, lowering his voice. "I just had a fascinating conversation," he says.

"Oh yeah, with who?"

"Oleg Novik," Mikhail says, which does more than pique my interest. That's a bombshell if ever there was one.

"Nikolai's second-in-command? What did he have to say for himself?"