Vitaly (Las Vegas Petrov Bratva #3)

20. Mila

20

MILA

M y father sits at his usual booth at the bar he’s chosen as his ‘office.’ Cigar smoke curls up to the ceiling as he talks to the two men seated with him, neither made men. They’re associates, and to be quite frank, unimportant ones.

This is who my father is allowed to deal with. The respect he’s been given. During all the years we Alekseevs have been in this country, we’ve been hungrily taking scraps, thanking our masters with humble gratitude, just hoping for the day they give us more. All values I was taught as a child have been compromised under the leadership of Nikita.

For me, that time has come to an end. For my father, I’m terrified it never will. Terrified that he’ll spend the rest of his life believing he’s just a job away from proving to Nikita that he’s valuable. As if there’s something there Nikita just hasn’t been seeing.

My father and I are too much alike.

He looks up as I approach, his brown eyes—identical to my own—hardening. He doesn’t bother with a smile or even a greeting, but the associates he’s with get the hint anyway and shift from the booth.

One clears his throat and tips his head to my father. “I trust we’ll continue this another time.”

My father shrugs, his eyes never leaving me. “Sure,” he says, his voice steel. It’s his usual voice, so I don’t know how much disdain for his current situation it truly holds. He’s been ice cold my entire life.

When the two men leave, I sit at the edge of the booth, as far from my father’s glare as I can get.

“You interrupted me,” he says, his Russian accent as thick as the salt and pepper mustache that hides his upper lip.

“Forgive me, Papa. It’s important.”

“Don’t call me that. You aren’t a child .” His nose crinkles like I’ve disgusted him, and I imagine him picturing the other night. I know, without a doubt, it isn’t Nikita he blames for that spectacle. Once again, I failed him.

I dip my chin with a single nod, my lips pressed into a straight line. “I came to warn you. I think something might happen.”

He waves his palm in a bored ‘go on’ gesture, his posture relaxed.

“I think Vitaly might become Pakhan.”

His lips spread wide with a grin as his chest starts to rumble. He laughs at me like I’m still the silly little girl who named the pigs he brought home because I wanted them to be my pets. There’s always something I don’t know.

“Oh, really?” he asks. “And why do you think that?”

Because I want him to.

I don’t say that, of course. I couldn’t even say it last night to Vitaly. But when he spoke the words, I instantaneously knew. There’s just one problem.

My family will never serve him. They’ll die fighting for Nikita unless I change their minds first.

I shrug. “I just have a feeling. People are loyal to Nikita because they fear him, but not everyone respects his leadership. If enough people believe Vitaly could get the support to take over, they’ll start flipping sides… I think it’s smart for us to be prepared for that, don’t you?”

“What are you suggesting?” my father asks, his eyes narrowing as his voice lowers. I’m walking on a tightrope here, but the one thing he wants more than anything in the world is the same thing I want. We have the same goal. He just needs to see the path that I have.

“If we wind up in a civil war, which I believe we will… We need to decide if it’s truly worth dying for Nikita.”

His face reddens as the whites of his eyes slowly show. “You fucking cowardly whore. You want to betray your master.”

“He isn’t my master,” I growl, leaning toward him on the table. After a second, I’m able to calm myself, breathe , and pull my hands back. “You saw how he treated me the other night. He’s never going to marry me, Papa. Our family will remain a joke as long as he’s in power. We should hope we go to war and Vitaly wins.”

“Because things would be much better if the swine was in charge,” my father barks out a contempt-filled laugh. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

“ Yes .”

His smirk slowly eases as horror-stricken understanding melts the color from his face. He stares at me for long moments, saying nothing as he confirms for himself what he already knows.

“You’re fucking him.”

“He cares for me,” I say, my shoulders sinking as I beg for understanding. “He’ll marry me, I swear it. Our family will?—”

“Stop.” My father turns his head, his eyes closing.

My lips touch as I wait for him to consider it, to come to the same conclusion that I have. This is the better way. The only way that makes sense.

Vitaly is the best fit for Pakhan. Even if he didn’t want me, even if he looked at me with the same disgust as he did all those years ago, it would be true. My father can’t see it because he hasn’t seen Vitaly, but he will in time. Everyone will.

“You shame me, Mila,” he says in a low voice, his eyes on his lap. When he looks at me, it’s like he’s the one with the broken heart. “You’ve shamed me all your life, but never as much as in this moment.”

My father signals to the soldiers who guard the door while I stare at his cold, unloving face. I don’t open my mouth as the soldiers come, and I certainly don’t shed any tears. This, unlike Vitaly’s words, don’t bring forth emotion that startles me. There’s been a dull ache beneath my sternum my entire life. He’s merely pouring salt on the wound.

I know , I want to say but don’t. I know I’ve failed. You remind me all the time.

And I wish, with every fiber of my being, that I could hate you. That I could walk away from you and make a place in this world for myself apart from you and the name you’ve given me. I wish walking away with Vitaly and pretending we’re everything we’re not was an option, just so I could be with a man for love instead of everything you taught me.

I wish I wasn’t born your kin. I wish I didn’t suffer the pain of your disapproval. I wish I didn’t share so many of your traits.

A guard takes my arm and hauls me up, but he lets go when I jerk from his hold. With one last look at my father, I raise my chin, turn, then walk from the bar.

I plan on being by myself for a while, taking a walk before I head for the bus stop, but when I make it outside, Alik is waiting for me.

His eyes snap to me, and he grabs my arm, dragging me to his car without saying a word.

I try to ask where we’re going several times during the drive, but he stares at the road in stone-cold silence all the way to an apartment building.

Does he somehow know what I said to my father?

Was he somehow listening?

Why was he waiting for me outside the bar?

He lets on to none of this as he stews. He’s pissed about something. That much is clear.

He parks the car in a garage on the tenth level of the building then wrenches me out of the car, roughly dragging me to the door as he pulls out a key card.

“Alik, seriously, can you please just tell me what’s going on? Are you taking me to meet Nikita?”

Still nothing.

He leads me down a long hall then into an apartment that has a black rug covering its hardwood living room floor and black and white paintings along its walls to match. My head swivels, searching for another person, but Alik doesn’t stop until we’re in a room with a computer setup that must belong to some sort of hacker. Or NASA.

He gives me a shove toward the computer desk—the only furniture in the room—then walks around me to start furiously typing while I hover over his shoulder. All four screens show stars forming a line in the password field, and when he hits enter, I see my bedroom.

Leaning closer, I squint at the screen. There’s a flashing red dot in the lower right corner with the word ‘live’ next to it. No sound comes through the speaker, but then again, no one is in the room. The bed is neatly made, and I can see the shorts Vitaly was wearing last night in the hamper.

My eyes drift to the other screens. Four images play on each, some with people in them. I recognize parts of the manor as the images switch to another feed, but when I check out another screen, I don’t recognize anything. It looks like the porches of four different houses, all showing their front doors. One has a welcome mat with a bear on it that oddly sticks out to me, but I know I’ve never seen it before.

“What the fuck?” I whisper, my eyes dancing around the changing images, all except my bedroom.

How many people has he been watching?

“You of all people should know better,” Alik says, his tone just as admonishing as my father’s. “Did you honestly believe Nikita wasn’t monitoring Vitaly’s room?”

My chest tightens as his meaning—his entire purpose for showing me this—registers.

Last night.

He saw last night.

I turn to face him, my lips parted, my eyes wide with the question that shouldn’t need an answer.

“I know everything,” he says, his jaw sharp as it clenches. “Nikita doesn’t, but he will. Soon . If you know what’s good for you, you’ll go to him now and tell him everything that he can see in the video. Say that you were manipulating Vitaly into learning his plan. And that you didn’t know how to respond when he asked if you wanted him to become Pakhan. Say that you’ve successfully earned Vitaly’s trust and figured out his next move. Make it up if you have to, but give Nikita something before I do.”

“Before you do…” My shoulders fall as I search his face. “You’re going to tell him?”

Alik doesn’t answer.

I wave to the computer as an exasperated breath shoots past my lips. “What is the point in showing me this if you’re just going to get me killed anyway?”

“I’m trying to help you.”

“Help me?” I huff, shaking my head. “If you wanted to help me, you could choose not to tell Nikita what you saw. He’d never know otherwise.”

“I’d be risking myself,” Alik snaps. “Don’t ask me to do that.”

“You’re already risking yourself. You’re telling me to lie to the Pakhan.”

“I’m giving you a chance to make this right.”

“You’re giving me a chance to throw Vitaly under the bus!” My fists clench as my shoulders square. I lean toward Alik, defensiveness thickening my spine.

Alik steps close to tower over me as he points to the computer screen. “And if Vitaly could see what I just showed you, do you think there’s any place he’d rather be than under the bus ?”

We stare at each other, daring the other to blink. It doesn’t make sense why he brought me here. Or why he didn’t tell Nikita about that night at the lake. Or why I’m not dead right now .

“Why are you trying so hard to help me?” I ask, my voice softer. “We aren’t friends, Alik.”

He remains quiet, and I don’t see any churning behind his eyes. He isn’t thinking through my question. He already knows his answer.

I didn’t know Vitaly before recently, but I do know Alik. I know what motivates him. Who his people are. What he’s capable of. He’s sneaky. I would never put it past him to have some sort of hidden agenda, so this whole time I’ve been assuming there’s some self-serving reason for his actions.

But as I stare into his eyes now, it becomes obvious. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before, even when Vitaly was trying to shove it in my face.

“You aren’t trying to help me,” I say, the realization coming out with a sigh. “You’re trying to help Vitaly.”

Again, he doesn’t respond. But he doesn’t have to. A loud knock comes from the front door that draws both of our attention away.

When he leaves the room, I don’t follow behind. It would obviously be too dangerous.

I walk to the cracked door and put my ear to it, listening as closely as I can.