Chapter 1 - Oleg

I storm into the warehouse. I had to come in early again. It’s still quiet, as most of my workers will only start arriving in the next hour or so.

There is an issue I have to deal with. Another one. It seems like we have these endless petty issues lately and I know it is all related to that new family. The Kuznetsov brothers. Would rephrase this paragraph.

I walk into my office and drop my work bag next to my desk. Flipping open my laptop, I punch in my password and silently wish my assistant was here because I am dying for a cup of coffee, but don’t have the time right now to make it myself.

This new family that moved into the area a month ago has been a none stop pain in my ass since the day they got here. And last night, because of their interference, another one of my shipments got delayed, I have another pissed off client and another mess to fix.

It’s one thing if they want to mess up their own business, but they’ve been making weak, but very constant, attempts to steal clients from us and to steal our business ideas. Their meddling is now becoming a thorn in my side that I can’t ignore anymore.

When we arrived in America, we worked our fingers to the bone to make a solid business foundation for ourselves. We didn’t steal ideas or try and backpack off of someone else’s hard work. Leon led the way—and then the rest of my family arrived after to all put in the effort needed to create this business for our family.

Not a fucking chance I am going to let another family come out of the mud and try to mess with what we’ve created.

I run through my emails, looking for the schedule. I know it has Midia, the dockyard manager's contact details on it. I forgot to take them down last night when I saw him in person. There. Got it. Picking up my phone off the desk I punch in his number.

It rings a few times, I know it’s early, but he should be at the docks already.

“Oleg, how are you, my brother?” He says cheerfully when he answers.

“Don’t fucking call me your brother —what the fuck happened last night? Did one of your men give them access to the shipping yard?” I snarl angrily. I’m no good without coffee in the morning. It dictates my patience levels, and right now they are very low.

Beneath the desk, my leg is bouncing in agitation.

I have to stay calm. Self-control is what makes a man.

I want to climb through the phone and punch this idiot in the face, though. So much for self-control.

“Ah, come on, man, I told you last night I would fix this. I’m already trying to find out what happened—just give me some time,” he pleaded.

“We don’t have time. Are you going to fix the massive loss we’ve incurred because the shipment won’t arrive on time to the client when we promised?”

He sighs, but at this point he knows better than to talk back.

“Midia, you better fucking find out who has been giving them access. I want to have a personal conversation with the person. That—or it’s your head that will roll for this one because you can’t keep your team in control.”

“Yes. I will. I promise.” He says tightly.

When this situation is sorted out, I want him to review every member of his team. I need to know where our weak links are.

We pay our people very well. Our staff are treated like extended family. To have any of them doing underhanded bullshit like this is not acceptable and needs to be dealt with quickly and efficiently.

I hang up the phone and sigh heavily.

Someone on his work force has been taking handouts from this new family. A little money slid under the counter—a little access to our shipping yard. And a whole lot of trouble for me.

My brothers expect me to sort this shit out because I manage warehouse operations and I am good at what I do. The business side of things.

When it comes to dealing with mafia business—I am not interested in the politics of it. But my family is important to me and I know my role and my duty. I did not choose this Bratva life, and if it were up to me, I’d be living in a log cabin in the woods, not having to deal with any of this shit—but we don’t always get to choose our path. I have to do the best I can in the role I have been given. For the sake of my family. My loyalty is with them. I will do anything for them.

I stand up, stretching my legs out. Last night was not a good night and I didn’t sleep well. I got home late from the shipping yard and then the constant phone calls didn’t stop. Stress and trying to deal with this shit has left me feeling drained and agitated.

The new family that moved into our city needs to learn their place. Who the hell do they think they are—arriving here—encroaching our territory—messing with our clients and trying to steal our business ideas. I don’t understand how they thought they would get away with it. The Dubrov name holds a lot of power, they have surely been made aware of it, but they are still stupid enough to test us.

Just outside my office I hear my assistant arriving. Thank fuck.

“Lianna.” I snap, not meaning to sound like a total asshole. It’s not her fault I’m dealing with this drama. She hurries into my office, standing in the doorway with a frown of worry on her face. Her mousy brown hair is in a single braid, over her shoulder. She pushes her wide round spectacles up her face, repositioning them on the bridge of her nose. “Yes, Oleg?” She asks nervously, starting to twist her fingers together.

“Please, will you make me one of those extra sweet, extra frothy coffees you are so good at,” I sigh, rubbing my temples as I stand next to my desk.

“Oh, of course I can. I’ll be quick as lightening.” She replies with relief in her voice. She’s a sweet girl. A little timid, a little meek over all. I have to be careful with the tone I use when I speak to her because she seems to shrink into herself when I speak too loudly. But she’s good at what she does. She keeps my schedule, and my work life running smoothly. What she lacks in people skills, she makes up for with her brilliance in keeping my office and filing system organized.

She hurries off to make my coffee.

I look around my office, wondering if I should tell my brothers about last night’s issues, or first try and find a solution. They are also getting impatient and a few days ago they were talking about paying this new family a visit. I know that means.

It means someone dies.

Dubrovs don’t appreciate being tested or having their authority challenged.

I think I will try and find a solution to this mess before I update them.

The Kuznetsov family isn’t going anywhere. So, I have to come up with a plan to put them in their place and show them who really runs this city.

If I don’t, my brothers will, and that will involve guns, shooting, war and death.

Hopefully, I can come up with a more amicable way forward.

I should also go and check on the shipments leaving today. I don’t want any more shit.

After a coffee, I’ll head down to the docks.

I can smell the coffee before she walks into my office.

“You are a lifesaver. One day when I meet my wife, I hope she makes coffee as well as you do, “I chuckle to myself and notice how Lianna’s cheeks flush bright pink. Shit. I know she has a little crush on me. I shouldn’t say things like that.

I smile tightly, feeling the awkward tension in the air between us.

“Thanks,” I say, lifting the coffee. She nods, still blushing.

“Just call me if you want another one,” she smiles, then quickly turns away to leave.

Sitting in the office chair, I sip my coffee and strum my fingers across the top of the desk.

One day when I meet my wife— what a stupid thing to say.

But the thought ignites something.

I am the only one of my brothers who is not yet married.

My mind is suddenly racing with ideas and I hate all of them—but the unfortunate reality of this entire fuck up is—it’s this or war .

Marriage has long been used in the mafia as a technique for forced alliance.

As far as I know the Kuznetsov family has unmarried sisters.

Fuck .

I clench my jaw. Feeling the idea solidifying in my mind.

I’ve been trying to figure out a solution for weeks. This one makes the most sense.

I wish it didn’t but it’s better than a killing spree, that’s for certain. A kinder option to force the Kuznetsovs into submission.

Later that afternoon, sitting in my car outside a coffee shop in town I am secretly watching the two Kuznetsov sisters having lunch together.

From a distance, they look quite similar to each other. Close in age, both with curly blonde hair and delicate features. They are laughing and enjoying their meal. One of them appears more confident than the other. Perhaps she is older. She pulls my eye towards her more and more as I watch.

I am not sure which is which, but their names are Raisa and Ruslana.

One of them is going to become my wife.

I’m not going to bother with negotiations and conversations with her brothers. I know their parents are dead. If I wanted to approach the head of their family it would be their oldest brother, Rodion. It would be the diplomatic way to enter into a marriage agreement. But fuck him—he didn’t act diplomatically when he arrived in this city and started stepping on toes right away. No. There will be nothing diplomatic about my solution.

This is going to be quick and dirty.

I’ll kidnap one of the Kuznetsov sisters and force her family into submission by marrying her. Our names will be tied together and they will have no choice but to align themselves with us. And it will stop my brothers from being able to use violence to resolve this mess.

The sooner I can do this, the better.

I’ll get my men to start tracking one of them. Then when the opportunity is right—I’ll take her.

I watch for a long time until they step out of the coffee shop and hug each other goodbye on the sidewalk. They are both beautiful girls, but I have to admit, one of them is drawing my attention more than the other.

It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.

This is a marriage of convenience—nothing more.

My window is rolled down and I can hear their chatter now.

“Are you celebrating tonight?” The other one asks.

“Of course, I passed. I’m so freaking excited. We’re going to Monstera. That club at the waterfront.” Her sister giggles.

“Ugh. I wish I could come with you, Raisa.” Her sister looks upset.

So, she is Raisa. She can’t be more than twenty-two.

At thirty-three, I am much older than her. But it’s inconsequential. This is a marriage of purpose. Nothing more.

“Don’t sulk, Ruslana. We’ll go for some champagne this weekend. Just you and me. I don’t mind celebrating twice. But please, remember that you promised to keep this all a secret. I really don’t need any of our brothers finding out—please?”

“I pinky promised—it’s a sin to break a pinky promise—I know how it works. Your secret is safe with me, Raisa.”

Raisa laughs and wraps her arms around her sister, hugging her tightly.

Her smile is infectious, lighting up her eyes. Whatever she is celebrating obviously means a lot to her.

I know Monstera. It’s a very upmarket club. I’ll call them and have a VIP table booked for tonight. I guess I am going clubbing.

I guess the perfect opportunity presented itself much sooner than I thought. Raisa has just become my primary target and if all goes according to plan tonight, she will be coming home with me.