Epilogue
Dmitri
Two months later, I’m across from my brother, trying to convince him that an arranged marriage is what he needs.
“You’ve lost your fucking mind,” Alexei growls, slamming his coffee hard enough to rattle the saucer.
“I’m not marrying a stranger just because you think it’s good for business.”
“The Andreevs control half the Baltic shipping lanes. Marrying in doubles our reach and kills three disputes that are bleeding us dry.”
“Then sign a contract. Like normal people.”
“Contracts can be broken. Family ties can’t.”
Alexei leans back and crosses his arms. “You know why I can’t do this.”
“Natalia was five years ago, brother.”
“And she betrayed you,” I remind him. “Used you. Almost destroyed everything because you were in love.”
“Exactly. I don’t make the same mistake twice.”
“I’m not asking you to marry her tomorrow. Just meet the family. See if there’s potential.”
“Potential.” Alexei sneers. “You make it sound like a corporate merger with vows attached.”
“It is a merger. It just happens to involve vows and children to carry both legacies.”
Alexei rises and goes to the window, his hands shoved in his pockets. His shoulder has healed from the bullet I put in him, but he still favors it when he’s thinking.
“What’s Sasha think about this brilliant plan?”
“Sasha thinks we need stronger alliances to expand into Europe without war. She also thinks you’re too old to keep playing the bachelor card.”
“I’m thirty-two. You’re older than me.”
“By our age, most men in our business have wives and kids. The bachelor thing raises eyebrows.”
“Most men in our business don’t take a bullet from their brother over a woman.”
“That was an extreme circumstance, and you know it.”
I study his face, trying to read past the instinctive resistance to being told what to do. Alexei’s always been hard to read, which is great for business, but bad for relationships.
“What’s really bothering you about this?” I ask.
“Being back in a position to let someone use my feelings against me.”
“Then don’t develop feelings. Keep it transactional. A contract with protections. Don’t let her close enough to hurt you.”
“Easier said than done when you share a room with someone.”
“The Andreevs want an answer within the week. Either we take the marriage alliance, or we find another way to strengthen our hold on the Baltics.”
“And if I hate her? Or find her unattractive?”
“Then you’ll get an expensive divorce in a few years, and we’ll keep the shipping routes.”
“You’re terrible at selling this idea,” he replies, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I’m not selling anything. I’m presenting the facts, then letting you make an informed decision.”
Alexei sits back down and drums his fingers on my desk. He’s got the same thoughtful look on his face he did when we were kids, and I roped him into trouble.
“Fine,” he mutters. “I’ll meet them. See what kind of people they are. But if this blows up, the cleanup’s on you.”
“That’s acceptable.”
“And if I can’t stand her, or the family’s toxic, the deal’s off, no matter the advantages.”
“Also acceptable. Just keep an open mind.”
“So, when and where is this grand meeting?”
“Next week at the Grand Europa. Neutral ground. Private dining room. Both families and their lawyers.”
“This sounds more appealing by the minute.” Alexei shakes his head but doesn’t argue further. “What else do you know about her, other than the surface bullshit?”
“She’s twenty-six. London educated. Speaks four languages. Active in the family business. No marriages or serious relationships.”
“No serious relationships at twenty-six? That’s either lucky for me… or suspicious as hell.”
“Could be both. Or she’s just been waiting for the right alliance instead of wasting time on casual relationships.”
“Or maybe she’s not interested in men. Or there’s some complication we don’t know about.”
I shrug. “Only one way to find out.”
The Grand Europa’s private dining room overlooks the Moscow River, all glass and polished wood. Neutral ground. Discreet. Exactly what both families wanted.
Alexei walks in like it’s a funeral instead of a wedding negotiation. His suit is sharp, but his expression is colder than vodka on ice.
“Relax.” I straighten his tie. “It’s just a preliminary meeting.”
“Easy for you to say. I’m the one being sized up like livestock.”
“Nobody’s livestock. It’s a civilized discussion between two families with shared interests.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
The Andreevs arrive right on time. I appreciate punctual partners. Leonid is in his late fifties. He built his empire with business sense and well-placed violence. His wife Elena is with him, plus a young woman I assume is Irina, their lawyer, and bodyguards dressed as suits.
“Mr. Kozlov,” Leonid greets me warmly, extending his hand for a firm shake. “Thank you for arranging this important meeting.”
“The pleasure is entirely ours. This is my brother, Alexei.”
“And this is my younger daughter, Mila,” Leonid adds, gesturing to the young woman beside him. “Irina’s younger sister.”
The introductions proceed with formal politeness while we take our designated seats around the polished mahogany conference table. Elena Andreeva is elegantly dressed and maintains the kind of composed, confident demeanor that suggests extensive experience with high-stakes business negotiations.
“I trust Irina will be joining us shortly?” I ask politely.
“Actually,” Leonid replies, consulting his expensive watch with growing concern, “Irina should have been here by now. This is highly unusual and uncharacteristic behavior for her.”
“Perhaps she’s dealing with Moscow traffic or some other minor delay beyond her control,” I suggest diplomatically.
“Perhaps, though she’s usually punctual for important family business.”
Elena keeps checking her phone for messages while Leonid’s jaw ticks. Alexei maintains his poker face, but I can tell he’s beginning to think this arrangement is a waste of time.
Then the dining room door opens again, and a young woman marches through the door and into the room. She’s beautiful, with dark hair and blue eyes, but the first thing anyone notices is that she’s obviously pregnant.
“Jesus Christ,” Alexei mutters under his breath.
Elena shoots up from her chair, gawking at her daughter. “Irina?”
“Hi, Mama,” Irina says casually, like she hasn’t just walked into her own marriage negotiation visibly carrying another man’s child.
Leonid’s face goes white. “What… when did you…”
“I came back early,” she replies, moving to the center of the room instead of sitting down.
“We sent you to London to handle the shipping contracts,” Elena whispers through her fingers, which are covering her mouth.
“I was. Among other things.”
Leonid’s face burns bright red, and he opens his mouth to speak, but his daughter cuts him off.
“Before we waste any more time on this, I think everyone should know I’m five months pregnant. Just in case it wasn’t obvious.”
The silence that follows could stop a heartbeat.
“Furthermore, I have no intention of lying about who the father is or pretending this baby belongs to someone else.”
Alexei’s face has gone cold as winter. “You expect me to believe you didn’t know about this?” he asks Leonid, his voice deadly quiet.
“Alexei,” I interject, but he cuts me off.
“No, Dmitri. This is a setup. They brought us here to humiliate our family in public.”
Elena Andreeva finally finds her voice, though it comes out trembling. “Irina, what have you done?”
“What I should have done weeks ago instead of letting this charade continue,” Irina replies without backing down. “I’m not going to marry someone I’ve never met to advance family business.”
Leonid stands up so quickly that his chair tips backward and crashes to the floor. “Who is the father of this child?”
“That information is not relevant to these business proceedings.”
“It’s extremely relevant when it affects our family’s reputation and our business relationships throughout the region.”
Mila, who’s been sitting quietly near the back of the room, finally speaks up. “Papa, maybe we should discuss this privately.”
“There’s nothing to discuss privately.” Irina maintains her defiant posture. “I’m pregnant, and I’m not getting married to advance business interests. That’s the end of it.”
Alexei stands and smooths his jacket with threatening calm. “Mr. Andreev, I believe this ends our negotiations.”
“Wait a moment.” Leonid is desperate to salvage something. “Perhaps we can work out an alternative arrangement that benefits both families. Mila is also of marriageable age, and she’s proven herself quite capable.”
Mila’s face flushes but she lifts her chin. “If you think I’m an easy second choice, then you don’t know me.”
Alexei’s gaze drags over her, unreadable. But then I see the flash in his eyes — intrigue, challenge, and hunger. The look he gets when he smells opportunity, even in the middle of a shitstorm.
This meeting is either going to become the most humiliating family gathering in Moscow’s recent history… or be the beginning of something much more interesting than any of us planned.