11. Attempt
Chapter eleven
Attempt
Y akov stood beside the window, scrutinizing his guests as they arrived at the club. It’s been months since their last meeting, and the death of Demir Utkins caused a substantial strain between him and his captains. They feared him, but they also saw him as an impulsive child. Now, months later, all the improvements have not changed their perspective.
Didn’t they realize Yarsoslav left Yakov in charge for a reason? He was the son who always watched, always learned, always questioned, and never stayed silent. Even when his older brother was right beside him, telling him to shut up and to go away. Yefim despised him because Yakov was always around.
Now, it was time to implement all that he had learned. He was given the world in his hands, and he was going to twist it whichever way the sun shined best.
They would understand soon. Perhaps with this very meeting.
If only he could concentrate on the speeches he was about to make and not about one insignificant girl.
Yakov was aggravated with himself for being so hung up on a woman. It had gotten to a point where sex wasn’t worth the effort it took to mentally get involved. Too many times, he found himself pushing women out of his room. If it kept going, there would be rumors that he was incompetent or gay.
Yakov felt pathetic admitting that after he kissed Tatianna the other day, he had waited in the car. He thought, just maybe, she’d come racing out after him. And even in the days that followed, he imagined she’d come charging in every time the front door opened. It was a new all-time low for him.
Luerna entered his office with a baby in her arms. Despite how Yakov warned how dangerous it was, she liked to get away from the house often. No amount of death threats could keep her locked in a home with six kids all day. “Everyone is almost here.”
Yakov tore his eyes from the window to watch her. She wore a long dress down to her ankles, and her long blond hair was free down her back. She smiled at him knowingly, and he narrowed his gaze. “What?”
“You waiting for her?”
With a roll of his eyes, he shoved away from the window and sat at his desk. “No,” he stubbornly replied.
“Why do you think you can lie to me, little brother?” With a bit of coaxing, Luerna forced her baby into his arms. Yakov hated holding babies, but her look of contentment as she sat back and stared was enough to allow it. “You are gonna be a crappy father with that pout on your face.”
He tried to fix his expression as he looked down at the kid, but babies were a waste of time. When they were grown, he’d put more effort into it, but as of now, it was utterly pointless to be around them.
“Please be careful today,” Luerna whispered as she touched her baby’s forehead. “You aren’t liked very much right now.”
“Security is removing everyone’s weapons.”
“We had a treaty with the Rostovas. If they find out you had anything to do with it, there will be problems. And what if they kill Yefim?”
“I gave Yefim enough warning, but I advised him to stay. If he left, they would know it was me.”
“They’ll hurt him.”
“But without proof, they can’t kill him.”
“So you think. What if they don’t care about proof? I know you want to prove yourself to Father, but I don’t think this was the best way to go about it.”
Yakov handed the baby back. “It’s a risk.”
Luerna cited the family motto. “No risk, no reward.”
“No big risk, no big reward,” he corrected. “Despite our fallout, I do care about Yefim. They might beat him and threaten him. But if I get away with this, it will set me up to take over the Rostova’s line. Then Yefim can take over what remains.”
“Why do you want to, again?”
“Because they are the biggest distributors of liquor, and I want to be.” Then he mumbled under his breath. “Plus, I hear they have hidden gold mines.”
The look she gave him made him defend himself.
“A rumor, but worth discovering.”
“Right. Perfect reasons to start a civil war.”
“According to you women, everything can be solved with conversation and tea.”
Luerna smiled. “Prove me wrong.” Her gaze drifted to the window, and she rushed forward.
It was the way she did it that kickstarted his heart. He forced his attention to the papers on his desk lest she catch him looking.
“Oh.” Luerna depressed.
Yakov’s brows knit, but he refused to look up. Tatianna hadn’t come. He hadn’t expected her to ignore a demand from her own father. It was why he requested her through her father, to make sure she’d have to come. But apparently, he had messed up their fragile relationship more than he thought.
Which was bullshit.
Yakov recalled the way Tatianna had leaned into him, how she put up no fight and moaned against his lips. She wanted it more than she wanted anything. To act like love was her only reason for staying with Fedor was ludacris. Yakov hadn’t thought it would be this hard to get her. Tatianna wanted his life; she was envious like everyone else. So why say no to it?
It couldn’t be him. She was just like him.
A knock on the door brought Luerna over. She pulled it back and announced, “Mr. Nevsky for you, Yakov.”
Yakov stood and gestured to the chair on the other side of his desk. Nevsky was a man in sheep’s clothing. Years of being low class lingered in the way he dressed. He believed a well-fitted suit he had handed down from his uncle made him fit in. But Yakov could see the subtle signs of anxiousness in the presence of superiority. Even though Yakov was forty years young, he was the one in charge.
Nevsky shook his hand and sat. “I wanted to apologize for Tatianna. She wasn’t feeling well.”
Yakov took a seat. “No worries.” Could she be sick? Should he send her something? What does one send?
Flowers?
Yakov cringed.
“But I was curious what you could want with her?”
Yakov leaned back in his leather chair. Now, it was clear what was going on. He eyed Nevsky, resting his head against his finger, rolling his eyes over the old man. It was one thing to question him. It was another to purposely step in the way of his plans. “It is my business.”
“She is my daughter.”
“She is in my rule, is she not?”
Nevsky scoffed but broke it, trying to smile as if it was funny. “You can’t insinuate you have any dictatorship over my children.”
“I’m not insinuating.”
Nevsky shifted uncomfortably, glancing around as if trying to search for someone to agree with him. But he was alone, and fear began to grow. Nevesky cleared his throat and wrestled up some courage. “Mr. Morozov, she is engaged to Fedor Utkins. I don’t think he would be pleased–”
“Fedor is a friend of mine. I’ve talked to him about my business with Tatianna, and he is fine with it.”
“You talked to him before me?”
Yakov let the silence answer the question. It was the reason he was dealing with people his own age. All the old bastards believed they were in control. But they were last season’s fashion, about to be replaced by the new and younger.
Yakov sat up. “Mr. Nevsky, I have respect for you–” a huff interrupted him and almost derailed his speech, but he pressed forward. “—And your position in this corporation. But everyone has a job. Some wait to be called on. But when they are called on, it is obligatory to show up. Even if their fathers or husbands, or wives or mothers don’t like it. That is the contract you have signed up for. If you want to renegotiate that contract, I’m open to conversation. I can’t promise it will go well, considering all the debt you owe me. Would you like to schedule a meeting?”
Nevsky clenched his teeth. “No.”
Yakov sat back. “My business with your daughter is professional. I would not disrespect her or you. Do you trust me to do the best for this family?”
With a deep breath, Nevsky let out his stress and nodded. “Yes, of course.”
“Good answer. Please join the others so we can begin.”
Yakov watched him leave before he slammed his hand on the desk. The nerve to question him was a sign that he didn’t have them under his control. If he could kill all the fathers without the sons hating him, he would. But it was the sons he needed. They were the future of the company. That’s why Yakov started with Fedor. The man was different. He didn’t connect with his father, hated him even. If all the future heirs saw how well Yakov brought Fedor fame and fortune, they’d fall in line, perhaps overtake their own fathers without involving him.
It was precisely why going after Tatianna was a terrible idea.
Yakov fixed his suit, feeling the weight of his sister’s gaze. She had become his secretary in the last few months. And though she wasn’t savvy in business dealings, she knew who was on his side and who wasn’t. Her presence usually stopped his impulsiveness. She could talk to him like no one else, remind him of the risks, and steer him on a better path.
Typically, that is. But Luerna wasn’t against Yakov falling in love with Tatianna. In fact, she very much encouraged it. “Maybe I can call her and get her here.”
Yakov snatched his coat from her hand, pinning her with a glare.
“I’m very lonely. I need some girl time.” She smiled with a wink.
Yakov left her to do what she wanted. He was not going to be around in a few minutes. He was going to be too busy.
Going down into the restaurant, everyone was gathered at round tables. Thirty-five of his generals and their sons filled the tables and lined the back. Everyone was here. He had finally earned their attention. They weren’t sure if he had been the one to go after the Rostovas, but they speculated and it caused enough fear for them not to chance it. It was exactly the effect he was hoping for. He would be feared, just like his father.
When Yakov made his way to the stage, Fedor eagerly gripped his hand in greeting. The man was trying so desperately to get Yakov to like him. Usually, it was something he hated, but Fedor was aggravatingly nice and a good person. Feeling actual guilt for secretly stealing away his fiancé was something Yakov didn’t want to face.
Yakov stood at the podium and eyed everyone in the room. He wished he could boldly state he had been the cause of this terrible accident. But the old ass fathers looked at him like they were planning his murder. “The tragedy of this morning–”
Fedor slammed into him, and his back hit the ground, taking his breath and choked, trying to get air in his lungs. But the shouts and the shooting overhead kept him from getting up. Fedor pulled out a gun, keeping a hand on Yakov’s chest, keeping him down as he looked around. “Gunmen came through the door behind you,” Fedor explained in an adrenaline-hushed whisper. “They almost shot you.” He peaked around the edge of the podium. A sigh escaped him. “They got them. Holy shit. That was too close.” Fedor laughed.
Yakov blinked.
Fedor was bleeding from his arm. The man had just taken a bullet for him and saved his life.