Chapter 2

ALEKSEI

“YOU ARE A DISAPPOINTMENT TO this family.”

Those were my father’s first words the moment I accepted his call. My jaw worked in anger, but I remained silent, letting him get all his anger and frustration out because this time, I did **** up.

“Is this how you plan to take over when I step down?” He spat, his voice deep with anger.

He then proceeded to spew rapid-fire Russian at me, displeasure rolling off every syllable.

I heaved a sigh, checking the time on my wristwatch to see how much longer I had to endure this form of torture.

We still had about ten more minutes to go before he decided he’d said enough.

I zoned him out, trailing my fingers over the paperweight on my desk, doing anything at all to distract myself from this one-sided conversation.

I mentally listed off all the work I had to get done tomorrow while my father’s voice buzzed incessantly in my ear. He could talk for days, that one.

“Do you understand?” He paused to ask as if sensing I wasn’t listening to a word he said.

I hummed in reply to throw him off my tail as I shot off an email to my assistant. Did he fire the bouncer at the fight club as Mikhail had requested?

“Good.”

He promptly hung up after that, deciding that he’d said enough.

I checked the time again. That was surprising. He still had about two minutes more to go.

I threw my phone on the desk, pushing to my feet. If that was not a heart-warming father-son moment, then I didn’t know what was.

I made a quick detour to my bedroom to grab a quick shower before I fixed dinner for myself. I’d given my staff the day off. My assistant had suggested it. He said it boosted their morale, so here I was, left to fend for myself because I wanted the morale of my ******* staff to be boosted.

I ran a towel through my wet hair as I strolled into the kitchen to heat up some of the food the cook had made before she left for the weekend. My stomach growled with a vengeance after I refused to feed it for almost twenty-four hours.

I skidded to a halt when I came face-to-face with my cousin, Viktor, seated at the kitchen island, his face mirroring a blank canvas.

He was a mean **** who acted as my father’s eyes and ears in the Bratva.

The scar that ran down his temple to his jaw was enough to deter people from him, and damn if he didn’t wear the scar like a badge of honor.

He claimed he didn’t like conversing with people, and the scar was his one-way ticket to escape socializing.

All of that wasn’t what surprised me.

No, his presence here did.

My father lived in Russia, so that meant Viktor had to be there at all times. Igor was a paranoid man and he only trusted a handful of people. Viktor happened to be at the top of that list.

I was ready to bet Igor was having a mid-life crisis back in Russia. His favorite ****-rider was in another continent.

“You don’t look happy to see me,” Viktor rumbled. He sounded like he gurgled on glass for breakfast.

Add his voice to the list of reasons people feared him.

I regained composure over myself, tossing him an indifferent look over my shoulder as I pulled my fridge open. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

His tone was colored with amusement when he replied, “The guards let me in.”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant, you’re supposed to be in Russia with Igor, so what are you doing here?”

“Nice way to refer to your father. Show some respect, Alyosha.”

If there was a ****-riding contest somewhere, Viktor would definitely win because of how much he rode my old man’s ****. I couldn’t blame him though. That was the only way he earned his place in the Bratva.

“I told you not to call me that.” I tipped back the almost-empty carton of orange juice, guzzling down the sweet liquid. “Too much familiarity, don’t you think?”

He chose to ignore me, moving on to his next topic of discussion. Classic Viktor. “I’m here because your father has a message for you.”

I couldn’t help but snort. Of course, he did. He always did. “Another message? I just got off the phone with him. What did I do to get so lucky?” I drawled, my tone as dry as the Sahara.

Viktor shot me an unimpressed look, his lips pursed with displeasure.

I rolled my eyes at him. He needed to loosen the **** up sometimes. “Shoot.”

“He wants you to step down and let Misha take over things here. He doesn’t trust your leadership here anymore.”

“He doesn’t trust my leadership anymore, huh?” I asked nonchalantly, like my father questioning my leadership didn’t leave a bitter taste in my mouth.

Did he forget all my contributions to the Bratva?

I was the reason we were where we were today. I sacrificed my teenage years and early twenties to re-brand the family name, and then he was just going to cast me to the side like a piece of used Kleenex? I think the **** not.

“How many men have died in the last few weeks under your leadership? You made the wrong choice. Admit it.”

“How the **** was I supposed to know we would get caught in the crossfire between the ******* Italians?” I spat, anger simmering just beneath the surface of my skin. “I’m not a ******* seer.”

“Exactly! This is the point Igor made during our meeting. You need to accept you were wrong.”

My jaw flexed in anger. That wasn’t grounds to ask me to step down. It was all an excuse. “Okay. Aside from this latest incident, what other thing has made him question my leadership?”

Viktor shrugged carelessly. “You would have to ask him.”

My guess was right.

“No, you tell me. You’re the bearer of bad news.” Plus, he knew everything there was to know about Igor Tarasov.

He exhaled, placing his inked forearms on the marble counter-top. “Look, Aleksei, I don’t know what to tell you. First, you lose the Albanians to the Cosa Nostra, and now, you have an unpaid business deal with a now-dead high-ranking capo in their ranks. Your father isn’t too pleased about you losing over a million dollars, and some of your men.”

It was twenty million dollars, but they didn’t need to know that.

I stroked my chin as I mused over the thought. Igor wasn’t wrong in this instance. I’d fucked up big time, and I’d lost a great deal. The cherry on the already fucked up cake was that Rocco was dead.

I couldn’t even blame their capo for killing my men. His wife and unborn child’s life was on the line. Rocco hadn’t come clean to me from the beginning, and like a ******* fool, I’d fallen for his trick.

I ran my towel through my hair again. “Tell him to give me a chance,” I said through gritted teeth.

Like things couldn’t get any more embarrassing for me. Now I had to plead with my cousin to talk me back into my father’s good graces.

“Igor doesn’t do second chances,” Viktor reminded me.

“If there’s anyone who can convince him to, it’s you.”

“And what do I get in return for my act of kindness?” He asked, cocking a brow at me.

I scowled at him. “Fucking seriously, Viktor?”

He merely shrugged his shoulders. “What? It’s business before family. You should know that by now. Besides, what do you plan on doing when Igor gives you a second chance?”

I pushed my hair out of my face, squaring my shoulders. “I’ll get the Italians in line.”

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