Chapter 3
Georgi
The road narrows the closer we get to Atanas Petkov’s home, the city falling away behind us until there’s nothing but quiet stretches of asphalt and high walls.
Santino slows the vehicle as the gate comes into view, and I take in the cameras around the boundary walls.
An armed guard steps out of a security booth and exchanges a few sentences with Santino, then he steps back and signals to the other guard in the booth.
The gates begin to swing open, and when Santino steers the car through them, I glance over the front yard that’s immaculately kept. Trimmed lawns on either side of a long paved driveway, and evenly spaced trees lead straight to the mansion.
We pass by two more men standing off to the side, one near a parked SUV, the other positioned with a clear view of the entire driveway.
The house comes into full view as we round the last bend, stone and glass, built solid for security. The front doors sit at the top of a short set of steps, where two more men stand, their tense postures telling me they’re ready for action.
Santino brings the car to a stop in front of the steps and cuts the engine.
“Ready?” Raya asks, her tone filled with apprehension.
“Yes. Let’s hope this meeting plays out in our favor.” I shove my door open, and climbing out, I wait for Raya to join me. As we take the steps, one of the guards indicates for us to stop, and I allow him to pat me down, but when he moves in my sister’s direction, I growl, “Don’t dare touch her.”
I might not be armed, but I know hundreds of ways to kill a man. Between Santino and me, we’ll be able to disarm the two guards and defend ourselves. It’s the only reason I agreed to leave our weapons behind.
The guard’s eyes snap to mine, and for a moment, he hesitates before he presses a button on the two-way radio strapped to his shoulder. He speaks Bulgarian, but I understand enough of the language to understand that he’s asking for Ms. Nikolova to come to the front door.
We wait a minute before the front door opens and a woman steps out. She’s dressed in the usual black and white maid’s uniform.
“Our housekeeper will search, Miss Torrisi,” the guard informs us in English.
I keep quiet about understanding Bulgarian, and so does Raya.
Because it’s part of our heritage, Raya and I learned the language. I never thought it would come in handy until I crossed paths with Petkov.
I nod to give my permission and watch as the woman pats down Raya before checking inside her handbag.
By the time we’re allowed to enter the mansion, five minutes have passed.
Keeping my pace unhurried, I take in the room as I move deeper into it. Stone floors, dark wood along the walls, narrow windows set high, and a staircase at the back.
I count six guards and know there must be half an army scattered throughout the house and at the back of the property.
When I stop in the middle of the room, I’m aware of Raya, positioned slightly behind me. She knows to always stand to my right so I can easily reach for her or block any bullets aimed at her.
Atanas Petkov suddenly stalks into the room while handing a document to a bald man with glasses and a nervous tick. The man blinks rapidly, glances at us, then scurries out the front door.
My eyes lock on the head of the Bulgarian mafia, recognizing him from all the photos Rosie, our IT expert and hacker, has managed to get of him.
He’s wearing a dark suit, tailored to fit his body. It’s clear the man works out, and from the way he moves, I can tell he’s a good fighter.
I can feel the power radiating off him, and I’m almost impressed, but then his eyes land on Raya, and he stops dead in his tracks.
Petkov stares at my sister until it makes unease coil in my gut.
I turn my head slightly and glance at Raya, who’s returning the intense stare, her lips slightly parted and her breaths coming a little too fast.
Fuck.
For long, intense seconds, neither of them breaks eye contact. It’s like I’m not even here.
I grab Raya’s wrist and pull her right to my side, breaking the moment between them.
Petkov’s eyes flick to mine, then he moves closer and holds out his hand to me. “Welcome to my home, Georgi. This meeting is long overdue.”
I let go of Raya’s wrist and shake hands with Petkov. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us.”
Raya holds her hand out to him, and the moment he takes hold of her, his dark brown pupils dilate. His fingers and palm swallow hers whole, and just like with the stare, they touch for way too fucking long.
My muscles lock in place with the effort it takes to keep still while Petkov says, “Such a pleasure getting to meet a Cosa Nostra princess.”
The fuck it is.
He finally lets go of her hand, then looks at me again. “I understand why you’re so protective of your sister. I would be too if I had one who was as beautiful as yours.”
Annoyed, I clench my jaw, and it snaps Petkov out of whatever spell Raya weaved around him.
I shoot her a look, silently ordering her to tone it down, and she answers with an apologetic expression.
“Let’s go to my office,” Petkov says.
We follow him down a corridor, passing by a couple of shut doors and a formal sitting room, before we step into his office.
The room opens wide, with black marble floors and gold decor. There’s a seating area to my left, with low leather sofas around a black coffee table that has a decanter with amber fluid and tumblers situated on it.
His desk stands at the far end, broad and dark, and shelves line the wall behind it. Floor-to-ceiling windows give us a view of the backyard, where I see more than twenty men.
As I come to a stop, I glance at Petkov, who gestures for us to take a seat.
I settle on the sofa, Raya sitting down beside me while Atanas positions himself across from us.
He gestures at the decanter. “Whiskey?”
I shake my head, then tip my head in my sister's direction. “Raya’s my underboss. If everything goes the way we hope, you’ll deal with her when I’m not available.”
Petkov nods, his eyes sharp as they shift to her before coming back to me. “Understood.”
A brief silence follows, then he leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs while loosely interlocking his fingers. “Let’s get right to the problem. Our trade routes are too close for comfort.”
“Close enough that the same brokers are being approached from both sides. It’s driving up the prices,” I say, watching the slight tightening around his eyes as he nods. “And demand for product is starting to drop,” I add, leaning forward as well and copying Petkov’s posture.
A faint crease forms between his brows. “I’ve had to redirect cargo a couple of times this year because of it.”
“Same on my side,” I reply, holding his gaze. “We’re costing each other money.”
“It can’t continue.” His eyes narrow slightly. “If it does, it will lead to fighting among the lower levels and eventually war between us.”
“It’s the reason I’m here in person. I’d rather make money than shed blood.”
Petkov’s features ease a little as he nods. “Then let's come up with a deal that works for both parties.” He shifts back slightly, one hand brushing over his jaw before settling on his thigh.
I glance between Raya and Petkov. “Anything moving into your regions gets handled through your network the moment it arrives, and the same if anything moves into my territories. Our men stay out of each other’s regions.”
He nods in agreement. “We each keep our existing contacts.”
“Yes. No parallel buyers, no secondary arrangements.”
Petkov’s eyes flick to Raya, and for a moment, there’s a flash of interest.
“There are areas where neither side has been consistent,” Raya mentions while pulling her phone out of her handbag to look at the notes she made. “I’ve worked closely with our hacker to prepare a list of ports, cities, and possible routes. We just need to decide who handles what.”
She’s worked her ass off the past six months to get all the information for this meeting. The list is the golden egg that’s going to seal the deal. Instead of me taking control of all those areas, I’m willing to share them with Petkov, which means more money in his pocket.
When Petkov lifts an impressed eyebrow at my sister, I feel a surge of pride.
Raya leans forward, her voice calm and steady. “I’ll sit with both sides and map out who’s moving what and through which ports and routes. I’ll also make sure nothing overlaps before we decide who gets which area on the list. It will be a fair split.”
Petkov’s full attention settles on my sister, his expression unreadable for a beat before shifting into something more focused. “You’d handle that directly?”
“Yes,” she answers without hesitation.
“We’re here for two weeks,” I say to bring his attention back to me. “The Cosa Nostra wants this alliance with you, so Raya will work with both sides to make sure nothing overlaps on the ground and holds once we leave.”
He stares at me for a moment before nodding. “This is a much better deal than I expected.” Relaxing slightly, one arm resting along the back of the couch, the corner of his mouth lifts. “What about margins?”
“Stay aligned with your market,” I reply. “No sudden changes.”
“And your pricing adjusts when product moves into my regions.” It’s not a question.
“Yes.” I keep my gaze locked with his. “And the same counts for you.”
“Volume stays in line with what the ground can carry,” he says.
“Of course. Too much movement creates attention neither of us needs,” I reply.
He shifts again, hard lines cutting into his features and a dangerous light igniting in his dark eyes. “I have a separate issue. Boris Pavlov.”
The name has me lifting an eyebrow. The fucker has been trying to sell AK47s on the West Coast. “I’m aware of him.”
“He’s been a problem since before I took over as head of the organization, and he refuses to fall in line.
I’ve heard he’s started sending small shipments to the US.
I’m dealing with it.” His jaw tightens before he continues.
“Just know, if you come into contact with him, he’s not authorized by me at all. ”
Well, that answers the question before I could ask it.
“Then anything tied to him doesn’t move through our routes,” I state.
Raya shifts beside me. “I’ll flag his known contacts and routes while I’m mapping everything. If anything links back to him, I’ll isolate it so we can get men to patrol the routes and shut down shipments that aren’t ours.”
Atanas studies her for a moment, then gives a firm nod. “Good. That keeps it contained. I don’t want Boris affecting anything we’re trying to put in place here.”
“He won’t,” I say, holding his gaze.
Something in Petkov’s expression eases, just slightly. “Good.”
He leans forward and pours three tumblers of whiskey. Helping himself to a glass, he gestures to the other two while saying, “Here’s to a prosperous alliance between us.”
“To growth and more money,” I toast before taking a sip, while Raya ignores the third glass. My sister has never liked the taste of alcohol.
Petkov looks at her again, and his dark gaze softens a fraction. “Would you like wine, Raya?”
She shakes her head, and giving him a nervous smile that makes me frown, she asks, “Do you have sparkling water?”
Petkov glances at the door where Santino is standing near one of the guards. “Have Ms. Nikolova bring sparkling water for Miss Torrisi.”
The man nods before contacting Ms. Nikolova via a two-way radio.
Petkov glances between Raya and me, then the corner of his mouth lifts. “So that settles it. Going forward, we’re working together.”
“It’s better than the alternative,” I reply, returning his smile.
He seems to relax even more as he asks, “How was the trip from New York?”
“Good.” Wanting him to know I’m sincere about this alliance, I give him personal information by saying, “Raya and I were born in Bulgaria but have never had the opportunity to visit. Are there any sights you suggest we visit while we’re here?”
Surprise flashes over his face. “You’re of Bulgarian descent? Last name?”
“Markov. Right after our family moved to the States, there was a fire in our apartment building. Only Raya and I survived, but we were lucky to be adopted soon after.”
Ms. Nikolova comes in and sets down a tray on the table before leaving. Raya leans forward and helps herself to a glass of sparkling water that has a wedge of lime in it.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Petkov murmurs.
His dark gaze flicks to Raya as she takes a couple of sips, then a smile lifts the corner of his mouth before he looks at me again.
“I’m going to take a wild guess and assume you won’t agree to an arranged marriage to solidify ties between our organizations. ”
Water flies from Raya as she chokes, and I quickly pat her back. She climbs to her feet, and looking rattled, she croaks, “Bathroom?”
“Stani will show you where to go,” Petkov says, giving the guard by the door a nod.
I lock eyes with Santino, silently ordering him to go with Raya as she hurries out of the office.
When we’re alone, I turn my attention back to Petkov. “You assume right. It’s nothing personal. I’ll never agree to an arranged marriage between my sister and any man. She’s not a bargaining chip, but my second-in-command and the most important person to me.”
He stares at me while a look of respect settles on his face. “I understand.” Still, it doesn’t stop him from asking, “And if I take the traditional route and court your sister?”
Fuck.
I can’t be a dick. He’s showing me respect by asking my permission.
While I consider his request, Raya returns, and as she sits down beside me again, she shoots me a questioning look.
“Mr. Petkov asked whether I’d allow him to date you.”
Her lips part for a second, but she processes the shock quickly. She swallows before she meets Petkov’s eyes. “I’m flattered, but I have to decline. I’m focused on business right now and will only consider dating in a year or so.”
She’s taking me into consideration, knowing I need time to adjust to the promotion I just gave her, never mind her dating a mafia boss.
Christ, if things work out between them, I would have to leave her behind in Bulgaria.
Panic ripples through me.
Raya picks up on it and gives my hand a quick squeeze before pulling back.
Luckily, Petkov doesn’t push the subject but concedes with a nod.
Thank fuck. It feels like I just dodged a bullet.