Chapter 10 #2
“I’ll ask Kristoff to reach out to Anastasia. Nothing overt or obvious, of course. But just to see if he can pry anything out of her,” Misha adds.
* * *
The bathhouse meeting was very early. But I’ve got a few other things to tie up still, so I end up calling Rachel at the office to have her tell Eilish to come in later.
The evil part of me loves the idea of Eilish just sitting in my office for a few hours waiting for me, wondering what the fuck she’s supposed to do and why she’s there wasting her time.
But the careful motherfucker in me who’s made it through a few years as a Bratva king without getting assassinated thinks of her sitting alone in my office for a few hours and ransacking it just to stick it to me. No. Too risky.
With that scheduling change taken care of, Korol and I step into Crudo, the Michelin-rated Italian place in midtown that I own.
For the next hour, I preside over four different rapid-fire meetings with a few of my top avtoritets on random issues.
Then it’s a slightly more leisurely meeting with Jayden Robinson, head of the Jamaican mafia, with whom I’ve recently begun doing some business.
One, because I like doing business with him, and it’s profitable. But also perhaps more importantly two, because I know Jayden and I working together pisses the absolute fuck out of Hades Drakos and the rest of his family—which means it probably pisses off the Kildares, too.
Petty? Yes. Amusing to me? What can I say. Also yes.
When Jayden and I shake on a win-win deal that’ll both open up some new shipping avenues for me and keep the Haitians off his back, I’m finally alone with my espresso.
“Mr. Tsarenko?”
Dammit . I glance up as one of my men clears his throat.
“Mr. Kalishnik is here to see you.”
My brows knit as I glance at Korol. Then I sigh. “Send him in.”
Crudo is closed, obviously, which is why I’m able to have meetings in the middle of the dining room. But Marko and I don’t have anything planned today, which has me very, very curious as to why he’s randomly showing up right now.
I nod, standing as the head of the Kalishnik family steps through the front door.
Marko’s in his late forties, though if he cared enough to dye the silver out of his temples he could probably pass for fifteen years younger than that.
He’s a handsome if grim-looking guy who clearly still works out a lot, and he has good taste in suits.
We don’t interact much outside the High Council, but I like him. His close number two, Vlad, follows him inside.
“Gavan,” Marko rumbles in a deep, time-roughened baritone. “I hope I’m not overstepping.”
I shake my head as he walks over, putting my hand out to clasp his firmly. “Not at all. Please, sit.”
He nods, both of us sitting across the white linen-covered table from each other.
“Can I get you anything to drink? Espresso? Or the wine cellar here is one of the best in the city.”
He smiles, shaking his head. “Thank you, but no, nothing. I’m fine.” Marko clears his throat. “I was only hoping for a moment of your time regarding the events of the Council meeting the other night.”
My jaw grinds. “Abram?”
He nods. “Indeed.”
“The Kalishnik family is the only other founding family currently at the table aside from the Diduchs.” I arch a significant brow at him.
“If you’re also of the opinion that Abram invoking Okhrana Soveta to make himself emperor is a bad thing, you could always invoke it yourself.
I’m sure Yuri and Viktor would be happy to vote for you if we all privately agreed that it was a measure meant to take the wind out of Abram’s and Demyan’s sails. ”
Marko smirks. “Don’t think I haven’t considered it. But while I care for the table deeply, I need to think of my own family’s interests as well. I believe that crossing and making an enemy of Abram Diduch is… unwise .”
I frown. “C’mon, Marko. You’re not scared of that little prick, are you?”
He chuckles a rumbling laugh. “Scared? No. But I am… cautious …of him. He’s unpredictable, he craves power, and he’s openly hostile to the very idea of the table. It’s a bad combination.”
“So declare Okhrana Soveta yourself and beat him at his own game,” I mutter.
Marko just sighs, leaning back in his chair and glancing at the guards posted at both the front door and the back of the restaurant.
“Might we have some privacy?”
I glance at Korol, who nods and stands. “Everybody out,” he grunts sharply at my men. The guards at the front door step outside. The rest of them follow Korol out through the kitchen. Vlad does the same with the two men he and Marko arrived with. Then we’re alone.
“I can father no more children, Gavan,” Marko says quietly. “I would appreciate that staying between us: I’m choosing to share it with you as a sign of respect.”
I nod, puzzled where this is going.
“Cancer, four years ago,” he mutters. “I had a tumor in my lungs. Chemo beat it, but…” He lifts a shoulder.
“At my age, it meant game over for having any more children. Which means even if I was lucky enough to meet another woman, I’ll never have any sons.
” He clears his throat before lifting his eyes to mine. “You’ve met my Milena, yes?”
“Once, I think.”
Milena Kalishnik is Marko’s eighteen-year-old daughter.
I’ve heard she’s smart. But I know the Kalishnik family is old school, and very, very patriarchal.
Him not having any sons doesn’t bode very well for the future of his organization, to be honest. And even if he could sway his top captains to be on board with it, I don’t get the impression that Milena Kalishnik has any interest whatsoever in becoming a Bratva queen or leading a criminal empire.
His eyes pierce mine. “What do you think of her?”
My jaw tightens. Fuck . Now I have an idea where this is going.
“She’s very beautiful, no?”
I exhale slowly. “Marko…”
“I wouldn’t suggest this to just any man, Gavan.
But I like and respect you, and your brother as well.
I liked you father, Vadim, very much, too.
” He steeples his hands, leaning closer to me over the table.
“If you were to marry Milena, I believe we could come to some…arrangement. An arrangement such as what you’re suggesting, namely that the Kalishnik family declare Okhrana Soveta in order to stop Abram. ”
I can’t quite believe what I’m hearing. “Declaring that to stop Abram is in your own interests as well, Marko,” I growl. “In case that needs saying.”
He shrugs. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I understand that my family’s reign is reaching its end. Perhaps I see no need to continue participating in the High Council with all its drama and infighting.”
My lips thin. “If Drazen really is behind these attacks, Marko, I very much doubt he’ll care if you’re sitting at the table or not. Your family is still one of the largest, most powerful Bratva families out there. And he seems to view that as an affront or a threat for some reason.”
“ If he’s the one behind the attacks,” Marko grunts, frowning. “If the man even exists , for that matter. No one’s ever even seen him, Gavan. He might be no more than a figure in a bedtime story you tell naughty children to keep them in line.”
“Marko—”
“I’m not doing any of this to cause trouble, Gavan,” he growls.
“But I do need to think of my family and its future. Please at least consider the idea of you and Milana marrying. It would make you and I family. When I die, the Reznikov organization would absorb mine, making it the most powerful Bratva family on Earth by a landslide.”
I look away, my jaw tight.
This should be an easy decision. Bratva families marry for power and to solidify business agreements all the goddamn time.
And Milena Kalishnik is beautiful. She’s cultured, and quintessentially Russian, and she understands this game.
Marko’s not wrong. It would be a very strong match, and it would crown the Reznikov Bratva as king above any and all criminal organizations on the planet.
It’s a tempting offer.
It should be a no-brainer.
So why isn’t it? That’s easy, though I fucking hate to admit it.
Eilish.
That is what’s giving me pause in thinking through this idea of marrying Milena Kalishnik. That is the cause of my reluctance.
It’s more than slightly confusing.
And concerning.
“This isn’t a decision I can make today, Marko.”
He smiles. “Of course not. And I thank you for giving the question the weight it deserves. I’m not suggesting the idea of you marrying my daughter lightly, you know. She’s my world.”
“She’s your daughter. Of course she is. I’m honored that you’d even consider me. We’ll speak more of this soon?”
“Excellent.”
We both stand and shake hands firmly across the table. Marko grins. “Imagine the two of us, family,” he chuckles as he turns to head for the door.
I follow him outside, signaling to my men as Marko’s black chauffeured Escalade pulls up to the curb a few spots down.
“We’ll talk soon, Gavan. Thank you for hearing me out.”
I nod, waiting by the glass door to the restaurant as Marko walks over to his waiting vehicle, where Ivan is holding the door open for him.
He’s almost there when thunder and liquid fire split the earth open with the punching force of a nuclear explosion.
My world goes sideways as I’m slammed backward. The door and the windows of the restaurant behind me shatter from the force of the blast, showering me with beads of glass along with flaming bits of Escalade as they rain down like fiery, lethal hail.
I hear shouting. I feel arms yanking me to my feet. I’m dimly aware of Korol screaming in my face through the ringing in my ears.
Marko’s SUV is a roaring pyre of flame. Vlad simply doesn’t exist anymore.
Marko himself is slumped against the side of the building next to the restaurant, smoke curling from his suit jacket and blood leaking from an ugly wound to his head as his men frantically start to perform CPR.
The sound of approaching sirens fills the air.