Chapter 9 Foundation #2
Evelina drew a silent breath. Okay, we’re finally sitting down to talk. Now what the hell do I ask? Why did ‘so why do you want to support me and why should I believe you?’ sound like such unreasonable questions?
“I’m sure you’re tired of hearing this,” Artem said after a single beat, “but before you ask me the questions you must have, please allow me to say it this once while I can say it directly.” He held her stare.
“I know it was hard to lose my father as a grown man who hadn’t lived at home for a long time.
And respectfully, I suspect my relationship with mine was better.
I haven’t yet lost my mother.” He reached out a curled hand and rapped his knuckles on the wooden surface beneath his resting gun.
“I can only imagine how absolutely devastating it’s been for you to lose both of your parents nearly simultaneously, so I won’t claim to truly understand. But you have my deepest condolences.”
Her throat swelled. It would be inappropriate of her to tell him that no, in fact, he was only the third person to tell her in any way that they were sorry she was suffering her mother’s loss. Only Otto and Kat had said anything similar.
She drew up a mental list, slapped overly simplistic labels of ‘Pros’ and ‘Cons’ at the top, and pinned his opening speech in bold beneath the Pros heading. Then for good measure she added the favors he’d already done her. It was only fair.
Clearing her throat, Evelina said, “Thank you, Artem. That does mean a lot.” She really should not cry for this.
“I’m just going to be straight with you, you know this is sudden, so I’m not astoundingly prepared.
I know what I want. I know I’m willing to fight for it.
” She lifted her bandaged arm and gave him a wry smile.
“I’m hoping you believe that at least a little.
” She exhaled, forcing herself to speak calmly, and let her arm resettle in her lap.
“But I’ve barely got the issue of the estate dealt with, so I’m still wrapping my head around a game-plan for the rest. Which means I have to ask outright—why?
Why would you risk damaging your reputation with your fellow brigadiers by supporting me, when you have to know I’m the unpopular choice? And why would you support me at all?”
Artem inclined his head when she finished. “I do understand. Pakhan Mikhail’s passing was a surprise to all of us.” His brow pinched. “If I may be frank?”
Evelina nodded. “Please.”
“I should say, it was a surprise to all of us not in on the assassination plot.”
Otto shifted in his seat, just enough to make the leather squeak.
Evelina gasped and sat back on reflex. She believed there had been one, but to hear another person say the same caught her off-guard. “Go on.” She wouldn’t tip her hand, though. Not yet.
“I don’t have enough information to confidently name names,” Artem said tightly, “but it’s too suspicious that none of his guard were with him and yet none have voiced concern.
He wasn’t sickly.” He shook his head. “I heard you had pushed for an autopsy. That you and Pyotr had argued, quite loudly, over the nature of this death and what to do in response. I also heard it was Pyotr who went beyond his station and set the funerary plans into motion.”
Evelina nodded when Artem paused. All of what he said was true and verifiable.
“I’ve never been a fan of Pyotr, truthfully,” Artem said.
Pro.
He held her stare. “When I heard that story, I decided that I would hope to hear you wanted to challenge him for what would be your birthright had you been born a man. What no one would question passing to you, even with an Italian mother, if you weren’t also female.
Because to me, it matters much more what you have up here”—he tapped his temple—“than what you have between your legs. A leader needs to be strong of will and sharp of mind. It’s my job, and Otto’s job, to be strong in body. ”
She mulled that over and split it into eight-five percent pro, fifteen percent con, because the implication that a woman couldn’t be strong physically ticked her off a bit. But she also couldn’t be sure she wasn’t projecting, or that he wasn’t speaking more toward stereotypes.
“When I did finally hear that you had made clear your desire to claim your father’s mantle,” Artem continued, “I knew I couldn’t simply approach you at the next dinner hall.
The house is generally occupied with Pyotr’s weeds and faux-neutral factions who get their rocks off pitting those in power against each other.
If we were going to meet, to take a fair measure of each other, it needed to be under different conditions.
So, I reached out to Iouri. He and I had worked together years ago, and smart men know not to lose touch.
I told him I wanted to meet, that I was looking to offer my support if your pledge to become pakhan was genuine, and asked him to pass my message along. ”
Evelina trailed her fingers over the edge of the bandage on her arm as she thought over his words.
He’d held her stare the entire time he’d spoken, but she imagined a man like him would be comfortable lying if he was motivated.
She needed to figure out whether she believed him, and what she was truly looking for in his words.
He hadn’t told her many facts she didn’t already know or suspect. But hearing so many of her opinions and observations come from the mouth of someone she couldn’t have influenced was reassuring.
She resisted the urge to look to Otto for guidance.
Though he’d been her rock for years, this needed to be something she navigated for herself.
One way or the other. So, she released a slow breath, added what felt like an honest answer to the pro column because honesty itself mattered, and squared her shoulders.
“I appreciate you explaining that for me, Artem. Obviously, I was curious why someone who’d basically never met me was promising loyalty.
And I’m not na?ve enough to assume that because you said nice-sounding words they must be true, but you haven’t given me any reason to not believe you at this point.
For that reason, I’m going to take you at your word now.
” It was a risk, arguably, but trust had to start somewhere.
She had to start somewhere.
So maybe she started here, now, quietly, in the dimly lit man-cave in Otto’s childhood home.
Otto’s support might be enough for her on her own, as just Evelina, but a pakhan would need more.
And a brigadier was a damn good start. Better, really, than she would have expected for herself.
If the remainder of this conversation went well, maybe the three of them could be the foundation—the backbone—of Evelina’s era of the Nikolaev Bratva.
She kept those reflections to herself, though. “But even if I understand, and accept, your reasoning,” she continued, “you have men under your command. Won’t openly supporting me cause a rift? How can you promise to do that if you’re fighting internal strife?”
Artem shook his head briefly. “I set to work tossing out anyone in preference of Pyotr the day after Pakhan Mikhail’s funeral,” he said roughly.
“My men and I have a strong rapport, so there weren’t many.
The ones I found I dropped off with brothers I thought they’d get along with better moving forward.
I won’t work with that sort of dissonance in my camp. ”
Harsh, but effective. If it was true.
Artem barely paused. “The majority of my men share my sentiments, but all of them are willing to move forward under your leadership.” His lips twitched in a shadow of a smirk.
“You turned a few of the neutral parties in that standoff the other day. That sort of courage is inspirational. I’d bet there are more who felt it than either of us know. ”
Her chest burned with his words. She hadn’t been trying to be inspirational. She hadn’t even been thinking about courage. She just hadn’t wanted to lose Otto, and maybe a part of her had wanted to clap back—even if only once—at the walking nightmares that were the Morozovs.
Evelina lifted her lips in a smile and forced her tears down. “So, you’re saying you speak not only from your heart, but on behalf of your entire brigade?”
Artem inclined his head. “Yes, ma’am.”
Evelina held her expression steady. Definitely going to have to train him.
“And if it comes to conflict inside the clan? If, say, Viktor”—another brigadier who was known for his cruelty and firm belief that women were meant to be owned—“takes issue with you, or really anyone in power, for supporting me … what then?” She was tossing the question out as a hypothetical, but even as the words built on her tongue, Evelina realized how likely they were.
Viktor was the definition of chauvinist. He had no use for thinking women, let alone women born with personalities. His support of Pyotr for pakhan was all but guaranteed, unless he decided to throw his own proverbial hat in the ring.
Artem grunted, sounding for an alarming moment nearly identical to Otto, and gave a shake of his head.
“In your specific example, I would gladly stand in opposition to Viktor and his outdated brutality. I have a wife and teenage daughter of my own, and Viktor is precisely the type of man I would kill to keep away from them.” He exhaled roughly.
“The answer to your more general question is much the same. While I wouldn’t rush to a physical confrontation, if that’s your fear, there’s no point in claiming loyalty if I won’t show it in the face of opposition. ”
Two more marks slipped into the pro column.