Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Igor
To ensure the engagement banquet went off without a hitch tomorrow night, I'd spent the entire day deploying my men. I couldn't let anything jeopardize this marriage alliance—the family's future depended on it.
The conference room air was suffocating. Ashtrays overflowed with cigarette butts, and coffee had gone cold hours ago. My knuckles drummed against the table in a steady rhythm. Across from me, my top lieutenants all looked exhausted.
"Salvatore Calabrese," I spoke the name like ice. "Intel says his people have been unusually active in New York lately. The engagement banquet's tomorrow. I don't believe in coincidences."
Artyom's neck tensed as he nodded. "Boss, our guys confirmed it—at least three of his crews made it into the city."
"He wants to make his move at the engagement banquet," I stated it as fact, my voice deadly. "This isn't just declaring war on us. He's putting on a show for the Ivanov family—proving that allying with me means painting a target on your back."
"So we—"
"Lock down every inch of security inside and outside the venue.
" I cut off Artyom, my gaze cutting through each man in the room.
"Get our best people over there. Tomorrow night, not even a fly gets into the Royal Hotel without my say-so.
I want Salvatore to understand—this is New York, not his fucking Sicily! "
My phone buzzed against the table. Elena's name lit up the screen.
Elena: [Today's our six-month anniversary.]
I didn't reply. Had bigger things to worry about.
I flipped the phone face-down and looked up. "I want to know every safe house Salvatore has in New York, every contact point. Tear his network wide open."
"Yes, boss."
The meeting wrapped up in the afternoon. I picked up my phone again, finger hovering over Elena's name for a long time.
The office door swung open without a knock. I knew who it was.
Natasha walked in wearing a white Chanel suit, tablet in hand, smile plastered on her face.
"Igor, I brought some design options for the engagement banquet outfits." She placed the tablet in front of me, leaning forward slightly, red nails tapping the screen. "I know you don't usually care about these things, but as the groom-to-be, you should at least take a look."
I swiped through the screen carelessly—a few different tuxedo styles. They all looked the same to me.
"They're fine." I pushed the tablet back without looking up.
"I specifically chose Russian designers," she continued, ignoring the irritation in my voice. "It represents the union of our two families. A perfect beginning, don't you think?"
"If you think so, then sure." I leaned back in my chair, pulled a cigar from the box on my desk, and lit it.
Her hand landed on my shoulder, kneading the muscle with firm pressure. "You've worked so hard for the engagement banquet."
Her touch sent irritation spiking through me. I raised my arm and knocked her hand away forcefully.
"Natasha," I looked into her eyes, "I thought we reached an understanding that night at the estate. This is a transaction. A marriage alliance. You get the status and prestige you want, I get the drug network I need."
"Of course I know that. But I want more than just that," she said softly.
I blew out a smoke ring, eyeing her.
"I want you, Igor." Her voice went sultry. "I want a real husband."
I let out a cold laugh. "Can't do it. You're asking for too much."
"Too much?" She leaned closer, warm breath hitting my ear. "Compared to that little mistress you're hiding in the slums, am I really asking for too much?"
My spine went rigid. Ice shot up from my tailbone.
She watched my reaction and smiled with satisfaction.
"Don't look so tense. I'm just curious what kind of woman could captivate our future Bratva Don so completely. A waitress serving tables at fancy hotels?" She paused, her tone dripping with exaggerated wonder. "Such... unexpected taste."
I fought the urge to wrap my hands around her throat. I took a deep drag, letting the nicotine flood my lungs. She knew about Elena—that fact hung over my head like a sword. It meant she could feed this information to her father, to my father, anytime she wanted. Put me completely on the defensive.
My throat worked as I swallowed, then spoke, hating the compromise in my voice. "What do you want?"
She seemed surprised by my reaction, paused, then smiled deeper. "What I want is simple, Igor. I want you to treat me better, more intimately. At least in public, you need to act like a real fiancé."
I stared at her for several seconds. "Fine. But you promise me this ends here."
"Of course." Her voice softened. "I'm not threatening you, Igor. I just want you to understand—I'm the wife who can help you consolidate power. That girl... she can't give you anything. So now, can we pick out tomorrow night's outfit together?"
I nodded, stubbed out my cigarette, and took the tablet. I scrolled through each design, finally stopping on one page.
"This one works." I pointed to a deep black tuxedo. "Appropriate for the occasion."
Her eyes lit up. "I knew you'd like this one. It suits your presence perfectly."
"Very thoughtful of you." I handed back the tablet.
She clutched it to her chest, biting her lower lip. "Can I stay here tonight?"
I instantly understood what she really meant. Staying meant sex—that's what she wanted. But I sure as hell wasn't compromising that far. My jaw clenched.
"Natasha," I looked up at her, "tomorrow's security is crucial. I need to ensure nothing goes wrong."
"I know that." She looked at me questioningly. "But Igor, your men aren't incompetent. They don't fall apart without you."
"We'll have plenty of time." I kept my tone gentle—I needed to keep her stable for now. "Trust me, Natasha. After the engagement banquet, everything will fall into place."
She studied me for several seconds, frustration flashing in her eyes, but finally relented. "Fine."
She picked up her tablet, glancing back at me before leaving. "Goodbye, my fiancé."
The office door closed.
I shut my eyes. This woman was more trouble than I'd anticipated. But at least for now, she hadn't exposed Elena. I needed to handle this more carefully.
A knock broke through my thoughts. I opened my eyes.
"Come in."
Artyom pushed through the door, his face grimmer than before. "Boss, we've got a situation."
"Talk."
"Our contact at the docks reported back—the last few arms deals with the Balkans, the intel got leaked every time. They didn't succeed, but it's obvious we've got Italian spies inside." Artyom's voice was heavy, his expression tight.
My cheekbones went rigid, voice turning ice-cold. "Find them."
"Already on it." Artyom nodded. "But..."
"Narrow it down. Fewer than ten people have access to core transaction intel. Put surveillance on all of them." I cut him off, issuing orders. "I want that rat dragged out before the engagement banquet. Alive."
"Understood."
After Artyom left, I picked up my phone again, staring at Elena's lone message.
[Today's our six-month anniversary.]
I finally replied: [I'll pick you up at the hotel by 8. We'll celebrate back at the apartment.]
Her response came quickly. [Okay, I'll be waiting!]
That evening, my father summoned me to the main house for dinner with him, Natasha, and her parents. An unavoidable pre-engagement dinner. I had no choice but to lie about an emergency meeting and text Elena to go home after work.
The long dining table was laden with elegant dishes, but nobody's attention was on the food. These dinners were never about eating.
"Igor, once we join forces with the Ivanov family, our East Coast drug distribution channels will be completely locked down." My father looked at me, eyes deep and sharp. "This is what your grandfather always wanted to accomplish but never could."
I cut into the steak on my plate, nodding with a steady, calm voice. "I understand the importance of this marriage alliance."
"It's going to happen soon." Natasha's mother spoke up. "But besides business, young people's personal lives matter too, don't they?"
Her gaze turned to me. "Igor, have you and Natasha discussed where you'll live after the engagement? I know the Vorontsov Estate is your home, but if you're willing, I could have my Long Island villa redecorated for you both."
I glanced at Natasha. She was smiling at me, her eyes holding a pointed reminder. I knew what she was waiting for.
"We'll live at the Vorontsov Estate，" I said calmly. "It's the family foundation—our future home."
Natasha's smile deepened. "I already have some ideas for redecorating the master bedroom, but I'll get Igor's input first."
She kept her eyes on me as she spoke.
"I trust your taste." I played along naturally, like a real fiancé would.
"How wonderful!" Natasha's mother clapped her hands, face breaking into a satisfied smile. "Maybe you'll need a nursery too, right?"
"Absolutely!" Alexander immediately chimed in. "I have some excellent designer contacts."
My father nodded as well, speaking with the tone of finalizing a deal. "These things need to be prioritized."
"Though we can take our time with that," I spoke up, voice unhurried. "Security for the engagement banquet is more important. Can't let our guard down with Salvatore's movements."
"You're absolutely right." Father nodded approvingly.
Alexander agreed. "Perfect opportunity to show everyone the power of our families united. Anyone who dares challenge us will pay the price."
"I have complete faith in Igor's abilities." Natasha chimed in perfectly, her hand lightly covering my arm. "With him here, I feel completely safe."
I nodded, shoving a piece of steak in my mouth.
"My Natasha has been raised from childhood to be a proper wife." Natasha's mother said proudly. "She understands responsibility, knows how to support a powerful man."
"Natasha is indeed exceptional." I looked up at Natasha's mother with a diplomatic smile.
This made everyone at the table beam with satisfaction, including Natasha. Only I knew how heavy my chest felt saying those words.
Dinner stretched until late night. Each exquisite dish was served, then cleared away largely untouched.
Natasha and her parents left, but my father kept me back.
Said he wanted to discuss final details for tomorrow's engagement banquet.
But I knew better—father was an old fox.
Maybe he sensed something, wanted to keep me tied down here.
I was right. After keeping me back, father didn't say anything, just went to his study and didn't emerge until dawn.
I showered and returned to my room, lying on that massive bed, pulling out my phone. Several missed calls from Elena, plus dozens of unread messages.
[Is your meeting still going?]
[Igor, I'm worried about you, can you call me back?]
[Are you not coming home tonight?]
I could picture the anxious, hurt expression on her face when she sent these.
But what the fuck was I supposed to do? Explain that I was having dinner with my family and my future in-laws? Explain that I was getting engaged to another woman tomorrow?
Belated irritation and guilt surged through me, churning in my chest. No. I couldn't. I couldn't fucking lose her right now.
I sent Artyom a message, fingers flying across the screen.
[Buy a gift, send it to Elena's apartment.]
Artyom's reply came within seconds. [Got it, Boss. What kind?]
[Whatever women like—jewelry, gems, pick something expensive.]
Then I switched to Elena's chat, staring at those messages for a long time.
The engagement was just a formality, a tool to consolidate my power. Even though Natasha knew about Elena, as long as I played along with her demands, she wouldn't expose it. Once I had complete control of the family and secured the Ivanov drug network, I'd give Elena everything she wanted.
She'd understand. She had to understand. I didn't reply to her messages. At least not until after the engagement banquet. I needed absolute focus and calm to handle whatever might happen tomorrow, including Natasha.
I turned off the phone screen and closed my eyes.