Chapter 1 - Maxim

"It was a mistake." Boris lies between Yegor and Akim, his right leg at an unnatural angle to the rest of his body. "I swear to you, I'll never make the same mistake again."

Swirling the amber liquid in my glass, I lean back in the burnt-umber leather chair. "You fucking coward! After you betrayed me and our brotherhood, you believe that I should let you live?"

Boris whimpers as he's shoved to his knees, his broken leg jutting to the side. "It was an error in judgment on my part."

"No. It was not a fucking error." I down the whiskey, the smooth amber liquid creating warmth as it slides down my throat. "You made a decision, and it is one that you'll have to pay the price for."

Yegor stands behind Boris, his hands clasped behind his back, waiting for his order.

I stand, rounding the edge of the massive maple desk. "You have been loyal to me for five years! I should give that some consideration. But you spilled important intel to the fucking Italians, you should have known better, fucking idiot."

Hope floods his gaze as he struggles to kneel a little taller, his head dipping low in deference. "Please, boss. If you show me mercy today, I'll be careful from now on. I didn't know the guy was working for them."

"Why would I owe you mercy when you are too stupid to show me some loyalty?" I glance over his shoulder at Yegor. "Zaberi yego i ubey yego [take him and kill him]. "

Yegor nods at the order to take Boris away and kill him.

Another man enters the room with a snap of Yegor's fingers. Akim and the man grab Boris by the arms, hauling him to his feet.

I raise my hand, signaling to pause, and Boris hangs suspended between them. His breath hitches as I draw closer to him, nostrils flaring and the color draining from his face. "Please, boss. Don't do this."

"You've just used up my last ounce of goodwill." With a jerk of my chin, he's dragged from the room.

Yegor follows the men to the door, shutting it behind them with a dull thud. He turns to face me, his hands deep in the pockets of his navy slacks. "Do you think that was the right decision?"

I snatch my tumbler from the desk and head to the bar in front of the wall of windows, pouring myself another glass of whiskey from the crystal decanter. "Are you questioning me?"

"Rarely." Yegor smirks and takes a seat on one of the plush leather armchairs, the fabric the same as my desk chair. "But I'm afraid this will have to be one of those times."

"Even if it means risking your life?" I swirl the whiskey in the glass, allowing the light to catch it and send colorful rays dancing around the room.

"May be worth it."

"Unlikely." I cross the room to the cream-colored couch beside the bar, glancing at the television across from me. Right now, there's nothing but the news on, waiting for any sign of the Mancinis cropping up over the city. "Go ahead."

Yegor crosses one leg over the other, his leather boat shoe dangling. "Boris has worked for you for five years. Are you sure it's wise to kill him when he's been a faithful soldier in every other aspect?"

"You would rather I keep a traitor around?" I ask, my tone low and dangerous, waiting for Yegor to say something wrong. "You have worked for me for nearly fifteen years, and I would have you killed for shaking hands with those fucking Italians."

"What he has done is despicable, but there must be another way to make an example of him."

"He betrayed the Bratva." I drink the alcohol in two gulps, putting the glass onto the matte black side table. "If you had done the same, I would have your head. If I'm unwilling to make an exception for you, then why should I be willing to make one for that blithering idiot? He deserves the consequences of his actions."

"He has been beneficial to the Bratva."

"Not enough to ignore his colluding with the Italians. Or ignoring the fact that he turned his back on his family. And for what? A few extra bucks?"

Yegor sighs, his legs uncrossing, his heels tapping against the floor. "I understand."

"I sure hope so." I drape my arm over the back of the couch, looking out the window as Boris is dragged from the building, and to a white van sitting by the curb. "Let this be a lesson to you as well. I will not tolerate rats in my house."

He nods, legs stilling. "We have other business to deal with as well."

"Such as?"

"You have a charity fundraiser at The Serpentine." Yegor pulls out his phone, scrolling until he stops. "This Friday."

"Why would I agree to host a charity event at my most profitable casino on a Friday night?" I keep my tone even, though inside the annoyance is simmering.

Closing the casino for a night to host a charity event means a loss of profit. All eyes are going to be on me to set the tone for the evening. The absolute last thing I want to do is spend the night parading around in a tux and coddling people in hopes of raising more money for whatever charity Yegor has picked while organizing the event.

Yegor, as if reading my thoughts gives me a stern glare like the one my mother used to give me when I was a child. "You're supporting research on breast cancer."

He was smart. When he decided to support breast cancer research, he picked the one fundraiser I would be sure to attend.

The downside of working with the same man for fifteen years–he knows me too well.

"Tell me you didn't have my mother's story printed out to be plastered on the walls like she was some kind of spectacle at the zoo." I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to stave off the oncoming headache.

"It's a good story. Adds a personal touch."

"There doesn't need to be a personal touch. Raising money for breast cancer research is enough."

"The media are going to be there. You want to keep up the good public image, especially with the attention that's being brought toward the Bratva on occasion."

Groaning, I tilt my head back and look up at the ceiling, turning the pros and cons over in my mind.

My mother's story doesn't need to be printed on eight-foot-tall banners and hung around the casino for people to read. Nobody needs to know my history. Nobody needs to know anything about my background.

I've spent the last forty-one years of my life keeping my family life private. From birth to death, I've vowed that nobody is ever going to get the power to hurt me.

And I've kept that promise to myself. A charity event isn't going to change that.

I stand and return to my desk, settling in the seat and pulling up the emails on my computer. "We will not be putting her story out there. You're going to find another connection to breast cancer, and then you will run with that."

"Maxim—"

"I wasn't looking for a fucking argument." I glance around the computer at him, staring until he shrinks back in the armchair, his fingers white as he clasps his hands tighter together. "You'll find someone else to showcase, or I won't show up. Understood?"

Yegor bows his head and stands. "Sure, boss. Understood."

"Good, then stop wasting my time. You've got to find a new story."

As Yegor spins and walks out of the room, I glower at the door, wondering if it would have been easier to tell the man to cancel the event altogether.

The Bratva may value philanthropy, but I don't when it comes at the cost of my privacy.

Yegor pauses just outside the door before turning back around. "I'll arrange for a car to get you for the event. Will you be needing a date as well?"

"Do I need a woman to hang off my arm like a fucking candy and beg for attention? Do I want to spend the night catering to both, her, and the people my business is seeking money from?" My voice dripped with sarcasm.

My chair tips back as I keep my gaze locked on Yegor.

He shrivels slightly beneath my stare, the muscle in his jaw working overtime. "I suppose you don't."

"Correct."

While I would go to the fundraiser, I'd be damned if I had to do any more entertaining than necessary.