Chapter Six
Roman
The stench in Stepan’s den makes me want to vomit. Of all the foul things I have come across and have done, the stagnation and sad empty bottles of vodka lining his desk outshines them.
I want to tell her to stay away, that she is too good for this world. That her charade, which has left indents in my palms from when I was clenching my fists as I watched my brother almost fuck My Sweet Rabbit, is all that it is. A disguise.
I spot the library of books lining the wall. Dust cakes the spines, making me wonder if the brute even took the time to read. In all my days of suffering with Sergey, Alexei, and Nikolai, I still make a habit of giving my mind a place to hide away. I would sneak around at night into the library at St. Kilsreny and pocket as many books as I could.
My Sweet Rabbit loves to read too, because when I stepped into her room last night to lay her down, a tiny corner held her stash with little notes cluttering the insides. They were scribbles of adventure, love, hate, and sorrow. Something darker beneath that supple surface of her innocence. I brushed her face, wishing I could take the hate and sorrow from her as she slept soundly on her cloud of white pillows like the angel she is.
The creaking of the door makes me turn, and yet again he is interrupting my thoughts about her.
“Well, well, well.” Stepan tantalizes with a tisk . “I almost— ALMOST had my cock sucked if it wasn’t for you.” He jeers a grin as he plops down in the chair behind the desk, propping up his clean leather shoes on top.
“You smug fucking bastard.” I grit the back of my teeth, “The employees are not for your enjoyment of your cock.”
He swivels his head with an eye-roll, “Oh when did my baby brother get so fucking soft? These past few years I have heard the tales of the… well tail, you mounted and conquered.” Kicking his feet off of his desk, he grabs the closest vodka bottle with very little remnants left. Sweat-stains circle the underneath of his white undershirt.
The thing is, I really want to break one of those bottles and gouge his fucking eyes out for talking about Ava like that. The least I can do for him is to keep his eyes in his fucking skull when they really need to be in my palms to keep him from looking at her. Which is why I have to fucking ask, why does she want anything to do with this fucking sack-of-shit. She is made of cream and wispy clouds that hide her thorns, but Stepan is a cockroach that scurries across your walls at night, ready to crawl into your bed.
“How would you know anything?” I argue.
“Oh baby brother, how fucking naive of you to think that I don’t fucking know what goes on.” The hiss through his teeth makes him spit a little. He squishes the bottle cap between his forefinger and thumb, flustered. His mood swings are becoming more and more unpredictable, but I don't believe he has the capability to do anything other than drink and play pretend as a mafia boss.
He doesn't know what the boys and I have been up to. He can’t even understand the simplicity of Ava, struggling to keep up an act with him, “What do you mean?” I keep my breath and tone stable, placing my hand in my jacket pocket to pull out a cigarette and lighter.
“Well, you are going to be my right-hand man soon and I wanted to make sure, well, you were doing what you needed to.”
I grin, “Did my work for the Bratva, suffice oh dear lord?” I light the cigarette, spreading my arms out in a wingspan. My leather jacket creaks slightly as I bring my hand to the cigarette, hanging from my mouth. The dense wisp of smoke floats around the dark den as I exhale into the muddy green tint of the room, obscuring it with the swirls of the burning sweet haze, a nice compliment to how red his face is from holding in his anger.
I raise my brows as he gawks his stupid mouth open. If I couldn’t determine whether he would snap at the drop of a hat, I might as well have some fun with it.
He places the bottle in front of his chin, closing his mouth into a mumble, “Well,” He takes the last swig from the bottle, pressing the top into his grin, “Your boys did great, but your choice in women could use some work.”
I laugh pointing at my face, “Maybe they could, but who really wants a face like this?” I play into his stupid jokes. His dumb lackey’s spying must have not been any good though, missing the fact that I have been taking out mafia members across the States one-by-one.
Women have always been there, but nothing to compare to anything substantial. I would try and fill a bloody wound with sex but I knew the need to focus on what the plan was with the boys, so fucking was for the pleasure of pain, as it always has been. I was especially good at self-sabotaging for the sake of my obsession to scratch the itch of destroying mafias.
But now I have a growing obsession with her. How much I want to keep her, to have her, to protect her. I’ll destroy her.
“Boys, talking is done.” Our father steps into the damp den, speaking Russian. “Your butler let me in, real tall guy.” Skin droops at his jowls and his thin lips purse together.
Stepan interjects, “That is Pavel he is one of my— ”
“—I don’t give a fuck who he is. I said he let me in,” he shot back at Stepan with thick pins.
In the hope to not argue with him, Stepan threw his palms up to surrender. I was silent as I made my way to a chair on the other side of the desk and sat.
A loud smack echos as Father slaps the back of Stepan’s head, “Get the fuck out of this chair,” he hisses. This was my fathers old den, but since Stepan was given the house, he pretends it’s his.
Stepan rubs the back of his head and practically hops to reach the chair next to me, “You don’t have to be so hurtful.” He sulks down into the dry leather chair, rolling his eyes like a snot-nose little shit.
Father sat in the brown leather seat, resting his forearms on the desk. He leans forward, clearing his throat into a rasp, “There is trouble and I can say it is starting to weigh on my patience." His lethargic eyes look at me, "Roman, these past few years you have made us some good profits, made ties with others and all, but for some fucking reason the money has dwindled this past year. Like you would make the deal but they were never returning customers. Why the fuck is that?”
I interlace my fingers, leaning my elbows on my thighs, “Money seems to be tight for everyone then, it seems,” I say in english, looking at Stepan. We always took the money, it’s just the customers we killed along the way that never return to make more deals.
He crashes his fist down as hard as he could. The bottles rattle back into their ring stains to the corners. “You will speak fucking Russian in my fucking presence. You seem to have forgotten who the fuck you are and I refuse to be fucked over because you have not been able to conduct business the way it needs to!"
What I wouldn’t give to end everyone in this room right now. The man I call Father has never been that to me. Only a boss. He killed my mother before I was sent away with his bare hands in a fit of anger, and blamed it on a bad deal with another Bratva. My mother was the only person that didn’t make me feel like I was shit stuck on the bottom of someone's shoe.
Stepan stands up puffing his chest out, “Luckily father, I have a new person for simple errands, so I can focus on helping him with business more. The last one was ready to move up and since I am taking over, it’s time I make some decisions.” He was apathetic, as if that would convince my father he was more than a prince that dwindles away the same money we lack.
My nostrils flare with my need to rip through their flesh. I picture Ava’s plump ass and how she will look bent over my knee. How the image of her and her innocence is the only thing keeping me from pulling my gun out and putting a hole in their heads. My heart slows, keeping my mouth shut so we can get to the fucking point already, and go our separate ways.
Well, for now.
Father grasps his handkerchief from his suit pocket and starts to have one of his uncontrollable coughing fits. He yanks a flask from his pants and chugs the contents down. Stepan’s look of concern smears across his face like the good dotting puppy he was.
The favorite son finally realizes he won’t have father to take care of the business anymore— or to tell him when to eat, fuck or shit.
My father lifts his hand, brushing off the concern, “You are set up to marry the Don's daughter from the Stravani family. Before your initiation,” he says, coddling Stepan’s ego like he won a fucking blue ribbon for being just as much as a piece of shit as him. “Tomorrow will be a deal that will seal the engagement, but I like your thinking, Stepan. Bring the new errand boy with you as a gift. We don’t have any money to spend on extra help right now until we can catch up, but they can have them for the trade… or whatever they want to do.” I try with everything I have not to kill him for saying that, especially because he was talking about Ava being given away to be trafficked. I could tell he was over figuring out a good plan at this point in his life though. He was on death's door.
The good news was I was over you too, you shriveled up, sorry excuse for a human, let alone a father .
His voice drops, pointing his finger, “Roman, you and your boys need to carry this out to make sure this isn’t a trap. After one of their men turned up branded and drained, they suspected it was someone from our Bratva. Now I am not saying it wasn’t someone from the bottom of the pool, but…” His hands wave around slightly as he tugs his top lip up, pondering his eyes between us like we knew something about it. “Honestly I don’t see anyone smart enough to get away with it, especially in my city, but whoever it was, they will turn up.” His eyes glance at me, throwing darts. He tilts his chin up looking down his fat nose, “So call your boys because we need their families on board to make sure there is no bad blood from any of the connecting families.” He stands, adjusting his jacket over his round belly, stuffing the blood splotched handkerchief in his pocket.
Now was the time to gather the boys back together, make this deal, and come up with our plan to end this royal parade. If anything to avenge the one person that is nothing like these assholes and this scum life, the sweetest Little Rabbit I’ve ever seen, Ava.
The people in this city deserve better than to kneel out of fear to these maggots that fester on any money they will squeeze from the innocent. It’s time to give the streets and businesses back to the people.
You both deserve to rot like the maggots you are. “You got it.”
I pull out my phone as the murmuring of their voices trail out of the room. The leather chair creaks beneath me, as I lean back. The glow of my phone is like a beacon in the dark green room, beaming for justice.
I graze my fingers across the keyboard.
Sky is clear. Gather the boys and meet me at that burger joint on the lower south-side around 9 PM. Deal after tomorrow
sounds good. meet you there.
Nikolai replies.