Chapter 3 - Nikolai
The sun sinks low in the sky, casting warm light across my dining room as I overlook my staff, who set the table for tonight's family gathering. I scrutinize with practiced precision, ensuring every detail is perfect—from the gleaming silverware to the crisp linen napkins. The atmosphere must be one of importance, symbolizing the gravity of my decision.
“Adjust the centerpiece,” I tell one of the maids; my anticipation builds, a steady thrumming beneath my skin. I can't help but wonder how my siblings will react to the news of the arranged marriage. Though they've always respected me as the head of the family, this is different—more dangerous. And yet, I'm confident in my choice; Anoushka and I will forge an alliance that benefits us both.
Satisfied with the arrangements, I pour myself a glass of vodka and head upstairs to change. The vodka steadies my nerves, providing a moment of clarity before the storm to come.
In my bedroom, I stand at my window, looking out over the city that's been a battlefield for my family and the Zolotovs for generations: Philly. I know what my father would have wanted; he'd want me to continue our crusade against them, to finally crush them underfoot, like every other Bratva clan across the world wishes to. But with my parents gone and most of my extended family dead, barring a few cousins, it's become painfully clear that continuing this war will only lead to more death and destruction.
I figured out, early in my rule, that the Zolotov might is not one to be trifled with. I watched foes and friends alike be crushed beneath their feet. I stood at the sidelines, never speaking for or against the Zolotovs, ultimately deciding that it would take a lot of Orlov blood to try to defeat them. And the victory? There never was a guarantee, and we were always the underdogs.
So, I made the decision. One that went against everything my family stood for, but one that I believe will save us all. Instead of fighting the Zolotovs, we'll join them. The thought initially made my stomach churn, but I couldn’t deny that it seemed to be the best course of action.
First, I gathered all the information I could about them. To turn a foe into a friend, you must first know them inside out, perhaps even better than they know themselves. For over a year now, before Lenny ever betrayed them, I’ve been watching the Zolotovs’.
From the Pakhan of the entire unit, Ivan Zolotov and his siblings to Boris and his, I’ve understood the nature of each member—their strengths, weaknesses, and flaws. I waited for the right moment, and when my spy and their employee, Lenny, set out to betray them, I did the right thing. I saved the Zolotov women he kidnapped and, in turn, curried Boris’s favor.
But the alliance we forged could never have worked. The thing is, I always knew that. I recognized early that the Zolotovs didn’t trust outsiders when even their oldest employees were often kept at arm’s length, information spread strategically amongst the ranks in little sprinkles. The only chance I had to form a true alliance was by becoming family.
And the key to making that happen? Anoushka Zolotov.
I walk away from the window and head to my desk, where I press the concealed button. A small sliver of wood pops out from under the desk, scattered with pictures my spies took. In one, Anoushka volunteers at an animal shelter, cuddling puppies. In another, she and a colleague named Maximus drink coffee. She laughs, blind to the way he looks at her with awe and mild reverence. In a third, she’s throwing snowballs from concealed spots in bushes at unassuming relatives during the Zolotov Christmas brunch.
Anoushka. Just the sight of her sets my blood on fire. She's nothing like the other Zolotov women—docile, submissive, content to be kept in the shadows. No, Anoushka demands attention, and she gets it. She has the spirit of a wildcat and the beauty to match. Every time I see her, I'm struck by the vibrant waves of thick brown hair, the curve of her lips, and the fierce intelligence in her green eyes. It's hard not to be captivated by her.
But it's not just her looks that draw me to her. Anoushka is strong, independent, and fearless. A prankster who knows how to keep people on their toes, qualities I've always admired and sought out in those closest to me. And though I hate to admit it, I can't help but think how powerful our combined forces would be with her by my side. As much as I claim this whole arranged marriage thing is just convenient for business, I can't deny the allure of having Anoushka as my wife.
With one last look at her photos, I put the pictures away in my secret drawer and get dressed. Just in time, for the moment I change into my formal oxfords for the night, the doorbell rings.
I head downstairs and find that my butler has already escorted the crew to the living room. I walk in and clear my throat. One by one, they turn to face me. Sofia, her green eyes narrow and suspicious; Dima, his brow furrowed in concern; Fedor, lips pursed in disapproval at this last-minute command to meet. Artyom and Natalia giggle as they struggle to open the champagne bottle, unaware of the tension in the room.
“What’s all this about, Nikolai?” asks Dima.
“Yeah. It’s not like we didn’t have plans,” adds Fedor. “I’m a busy man, you know?”
“And what plans did you have?” Artyom sniggers, walking over and nudging Fedor on his shoulder. “Don’t tell me another date!”
“Oh, brother,” Natalia giggles. “Haven’t you learned there’s no point if you can’t remember the names of the girls you take out to dinner?”
“Who needs a name when I never plan to see them again?” Fedor teases back.
Artyom and Natalia laugh and howl while Dima and Sofia frown in disapproval. I maintain a neutral expression, knowing how Fedor loves causing a little stir now and then.
“Plans aside,” I tell Fedor and turn to make eye contact with each party present. “I’d like to thank you all for joining me, given the last-minute nature of my invitation.”
“Oh! So that’s what you call it then?” Fedor nods his head exuberantly. “You hear that, folks? That command to be here at eight, with no excuses, was apparently an invitation, he says.”
Sofia rolls her eyes, though I can see her trying to hold back a smile. “Come on, Nikolai. You didn’t drag us all here to admire your impeccable taste in furniture. What's going on?”
I clear my throat, calling for their attention. “I have an announcement to make.” I pause, letting the weight of my words sink in as all eyes are on me. Even Artyom looks up from his phone now.
“But first,” I raise my head gently toward the bartender. Suddenly, half a dozen waitstaff gather in motion, carrying around trays to pass out glasses of champagne.
Once everyone has their glass, we gather around the fireplace, the tension palpable as I take a sip before proceeding. The silence stretches on, growing heavier with each passing second.
"Something important has come up," I finally say, meeting their gazes one by one. "An alliance that could change our lives for the better if we play our cards right."
Sofia fidgets nervously while Dima narrows his eyes. "What kind of alliance?" he asks cautiously.
"An arranged marriage," I answer, watching their reactions carefully. "To Anoushka Zolotov."
For a brief second, no one says a word. It’s like the calm before a storm, and then, it unleashes.
"Are you insane?" Sofia snaps suddenly, slamming her glass down on a small side table, the champagne spilling over. "Joining forces with our enemies? What about our family's legacy?"
"Anoushka?" Fedor sputters in disbelief. "Nikolai, have you lost your mind? She's a Zolotov!"
“Marrying Anoushka Zolotov?” Dima spits on the floor beside him. “If you keep snakes in the backyard, sooner or later, they’re bound to bite, Brother!”
They all look at each other without saying a word, but their displeasure seeps through from how the champagne remains untouched and how they refuse to meet my eye.
“Well, well, well, Brother,” Artyom grins. “Of all the ways to stir shit up… ”
"Enough, all of you!" I cut them off, my voice unyielding. "Our family's legacy is exactly why this must be done. We've spent too long fighting a losing battle against the Zolotovs. It's time for a different approach—one that ensures our survival."
Artyom looks at me dubiously. "And you think marrying Anoushka will guarantee that?"
"Absolutely," I respond, confidence radiating from every word. "With her by my side, we'll have access to the resources and connections we need to become more powerful than our parents ever dreamt us to be."
Natalia finally speaks up, her voice barely audible. "But… what if she refuses?"
"That’s out of the question." My tone leaves no room for doubt. “She’s already agreed.”
“She—what?” Sofia almost shrieks, while I notice Dima almost shake with restrained anger. I knew they wouldn’t like this. But what other choice did I have? Dima and Sofia look at each other in shock.
Fedor remains silent but gives me a small nod, his thoughts hidden behind a stoic mask. I can only hope he understands the necessity of this alliance, even if the others don't.
“If this backfires, Brother,” Dima says at last, his anger subsided enough for him to choke out a few words.
“It won’t. I brought this family to where we are today, and you have to trust I’ll take it up the ranks.”
My words seem to resonate with Artyom, who finally breaks his silence. "Nikolai is right. We cannot continue fighting battles we cannot win. An alliance may be our only chance at survival."
"Thank you, Artyom," I nod gratefully, feeling grateful for his support. "Now, let's put an end to this needless bickering and celebrate what’s to come. We have a wedding to plan.”
I pick up my glass, the crystal shimmering in the candlelight. My siblings hesitantly clink their glasses against mine, the sound echoing throughout the room like a harbinger of change.