55. Andrey

55

ANDREY

Shura and Vaska are already waiting at the entrance of The Capital Hotel when I arrive.

Shura's impassive scowl is in direct contrast to Vaska's ear-to-ear grin. Bastard looks like Christmas came early. After weeks of bed rest, followed by months of rehabilitation, I don't blame him. It must feel like a blessing to be on his feet again.

We clasp hands. "Vaska—you look good, brother."

He's practically foaming at the mouth, bouncing from heel to heel with excitement. "I feel good, sir. It's about time I saw some action."

If all goes well, there won't be any action today, but I keep that to myself as I lead my men through The Capital's arched doorways.

I don't need to ask Shura if our prospective partners have arrived. The number of security teams I pass as we make our way to the Executive Lounge tells me that all three men are here, punctual as ever.

I assign my men to positions at the various doors before I step into the lounge with only Shura at my side.

The large, opulent room is empty, apart from the three men who rise to their feet when I enter. It took a lot of effort and a fuck ton of bribery to get these three to the table. Like Vaska, though, I'm damn near giddy with excitement at what we stand on the precipice of accomplishing.

Cevdet Bakirtzis controls a trafficking pipeline that runs through the Midwest. He inherited his mafia after his father's death when he was only twenty-three years old. But he single-handedly expanded the empire across Chicago and Denver. He's the main reason my shipments get to their chosen destinations without a problem.

Luca Giordano has cornered the drug market all along the West Coast. Very Italian and very proud, he was the last to come around to a partnership with me, but once he saw how fruitful it would be with him, even he couldn't resist.

Bujar Mustafi was the easiest to convince. The soft-spoken Albanian used to be in production himself before my superior product and cheaper cost effectively cut him off at the knees. He rallied fast and fell into step as a smuggler who controls most of the South, his tendrils snaking into damn near every town between here and the Florida Keys.

"Ah, the young pakhan is finally here," Cevdet booms, offering me a meaty hand.

He likes to get in ahead of the game, Cevdet does. That usually involves a lot of snide jabs at the expense of both Bujar and Luca, but he's well-behaved thus far. Every man present knows that their own operations depend on the moving cogs in our shared partnership.

One way or another, I'm walking out of here with what I want.

It's up to them if that's through business or through blood.

The table is already littered with coffee mugs. The smell of bourbon is emanating from Luca's gold-trimmed cup.

"I apologize, gentlemen. I didn't realize I was late to the party."

"You're not late," Cevdet announces. "I'm always early."

"And since Cevdet is always early, Bujar and I decided not to let him show us up," Luca quips.

Cevdet twirls a finger through his massive handlebar mustache and laughs heartily. Luca's laughter is more of a wheeze, whereas you'd be hard-pressed to hear Bujar's laugh at all.

They're a motley crew. But an effective one.

Which is how I know that Nikolai Rostov would stand to gain a lot by destroying the alliance I've managed to create.

"I hate to dive straight into business," I say, "but we might as well get it out of the way."

Bujar is the only one who looks like he appreciates the straightforwardness. His thin lips tighten with satisfaction as he sits up a little straighter.

"Oh, very well," Luca mutters as he picks up his coffee-spiked bourbon. "You Russians can't carry a casual conversation to save your lives. I assume we're here to talk about the Rostov stronzo ?"

My eyes narrow. "I came to discuss shipments. It seems you know something I don't, Luca. Care to share with the class?"

Luca smiles, flashing his freshly-whitened teeth for my benefit. "Now, now, Andrey, there's no need to be testy. I'm unequivocally your man."

"Are you?" I ask, half-amused and half-annoyed. "Because you did entertain a meeting with Nikolai once."

He waves away the fact. "I had to make sure you weren't short-changing me. I am a businessman at the end of the day, Andrey. I have to know who is offering the better deal."

Although his features remain inscrutable, Bujar's mouth twitches under his dark beard.

"Good to know that your loyalties can be so easily swayed by the highest bidder, Luca."

The Italian rolls his eyes. "I have no desire to become entangled in Rostov's repulsive skin trade. Quite apart from having moral qualms about it, the constant body trail would be bad for business."

"Has he tried to contact you again?"

Luca is busy primping his expensive Italian suit. "Not in over a year. And as I informed you all then, I told him to fuck the hell off. My answer will be no different if he makes another attempt."

Luca has always been slippery, but despite Shura's reservations about the man, I do trust him. He may treat the whole operation as a game, but he's got as much skin in it as the rest of us.

"Ha! Rostov wouldn't ever dare approach me," Cevdet claims proudly. "He knows exactly where I stand on the skin trade. No family man would ever entertain scum like Rostov."

Undoubtedly, he's also thinking of all the Bakirtzis assets that are interlinked with the success of my Bratva. Like Luca, he's as self-serving as they come.

But loyalty is loyalty, regardless of the motive.

"As for me, I'm not even on Rostov's radar," Bujar declares. "He doesn't see me as a big player. Simply a cog in the wheel."

"I doubt that, Bujar," I murmur. "Nikolai has eyes everywhere. And he's never turned down a free meal."

Cevdet turns to me thoughtfully. "You think he'll try to approach each of us?"

"His moves are getting harder and harder to predict," I admit grudgingly. "He's become a ghost in the last year. Which leads me to believe he's planning something."

I glance at Shura, who's stationed by the window, his spine rigid as ever. But I know he's analyzing everything we've discussed so far.

"I doubt Nikolai will approach any of you," Shura says when I gesture for him to chime in. "Our alliance is too strong to pick apart now. Our investments run too deep and he knows that everyone here has his reasons for spurning what he has to offer."

"I sense a ‘but' coming," Luca says. "You think he's shoring up alliances?"

"He will if he's smart. He has to match our strength," I say. "Finding new friends is the only way he has a prayer of lasting."

"Who does he have to turn to?" Cevdet scoffs before answering his own question. "No one of consequence. All the major players are sitting in this room."

Luca and Bujar nod their agreement. But one glance at Shura tells me he's the only one here who thinks the way I do.

Nikolai Rostov is not to be underestimated.

"Before we jump into the expansion, I have to clear up some rumors that have been circulating," Cevdet blurts suddenly, turning his blue eyes on me.

I wave to give him the floor.

He waggles feathery brows in my direction. "Is our young pakhan going to be a father soon?"

This time, I take pains to avoid Shura's face. I've made no public announcement, which means the eyes trained on my family are closer than I suspected. There's no point in lying, though. Honesty begets honesty. Sooner or later, the truth will emerge. These men might as well hear it from my lips.

"Yes," I say. "The rumors are true."

Luca immediately declares a toast must be made and Bujar offers me a congratulatory nod. But Cevdet is impatient for more information.

"And am I correct in assuming that, if there had been a wedding, we would have received invitations?"

"Of course, Cevdet. There has been no wedding. Nor will there be."

At that, the mood turns tense.

Cevdet is the only one brave enough to ask the question on all of their minds. "Is that because you're biding your time? Or is it because the woman is… unimportant?"

"She's the mother of my child. There's nothing more to be said."

The dismissal is clear. All three men arrange their faces into polite respect and Cevdet pivots into the safe territory of the expansion.

I'm the only one who can't stop thinking about what I said and how I said it.

Two hours and several more cups of coffee later, I'm saying my goodbyes.

Cevdet hangs back, always determined to have the last word. "Given the current climate, if you need additional protection, I can provide it," he says, lowering his usually booming voice into something approximating a whisper.

I regard him carefully. "A kind offer, Cevdet, but I happen to know that your men don't come cheap."

"For you, my friend, I would provide the service free of charge."

That takes me back. "Why?"

He runs his tongue over his mustachioed top lip. "I have three daughters, Andrey. And I would go to any trouble to make sure they're safe. I can recognize that same instinct in other men. I recognized it in you, try as you might to hide it."

Fucking hell—am I that transparent?

"She is important to you and—No, no, don't bother denying it. She is important to you. Which means she has a target on her back." He claps a hand on my shoulder. "Nikolai Rostov is the type of man who would sell his own mother for spare change. He has no honor. But you do. That means something to me."

I incline my head in gratitude. "That's generous of you, Cevdet. I will consider your offer carefully."

"We must protect what's ours, Andrey," he says, reverting to his usual ear-splitting volume. "It is our most sacred duty."

And with that, he follows Luca and Bujar out through the gilded doors.