Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
ARTEM
W hoever said working with family was a bad idea may have had a point.
Every word between Gregor and me carried the weight of years of unspoken rivalry.
And I hoped he fucking choked on it.
Gregor and I each sat at opposite ends of the polished wooden table. My brothers to my right and his brother and brother-in-law to his. It was supposed to show that he and I each led the family, that neither of us was above the other.
All it did was give our brothers the ability to shoot annoyed looks at each other, caught in the middle of this power struggle.
"Solovyov is not your concern, cousin ," I said, keeping my tone even, fingers drumming silently against my thigh beneath the table.
"He is coming after my territory, cousin . That is very much my concern," he returned, his tone as deceptively controlled as mine.
"Maybe, but as you have pointed out, he is only over here coming after you because Kostya's late wife gave him the idea. This problem started in Moscow and spilled over into the States. I should be the one to handle it."
"I think—" Gregor started, and I cut him off.
"Besides, I'm sure your plate is already overflowing with such a large territory. The rumor is that you have bitten off a bit more than you can chew, and when you add the demands of your wife and?—"
"Careful," Gregor growled. The veins in his neck bulged, a pulse of warning.
Ah, the wife, Samara, was his trigger. I already figured that to be the case, but I loved confirmation.
"I like Samara," I said, my lips curving into a smile. "I think she is good for you. But the fact remains, this territory is large, spread out and demanding, even for a single man. I'm simply stating that perhaps it'd be better to let us clean up our own mess."
Gregor sat back in his chair and glared at me. Everything I said was aboveboard. But my cousin was not stupid. He was reading between the lines. He knew what I wasn't saying.
What was worse, he knew the thinly veiled message was accurate.
I was telling my cousin that he had too much responsibility for one man. He could not continue to divide his time between his wife and child, and such a large territory. Pieces were slipping.
Any underground organization had to be meticulously set up and maintained. If a larger seat of power were to fall into another's hands, then the entire empire would topple like dominoes.
"Why should I let you and your men continue to operate in my territory when your brother cost me millions in bribes and damages? Seems to me like it might be easier and cheaper for me to send you packing and clean this up myself."
His message was also clear. Why the fuck would he let me fight off Solovyov, when he could do it himself without giving me an in to carve up his kingdom?
"Risk versus reward, cousin." I stood and moved to the wall of glass.
It really was a stunning nighttime view of the city sprawled at my feet. From this vantage, I could even see the great American overcompensation, the Washington Monument. The tall white tower that was clearly meant to show world leaders how big America thought its cock was. All show and no substance, the American curse.
But with that curse came money. Millions that were up for grabs.
Young politicians were idealistic and cheaply bought with a donation to the right charity. Older politicians were jaded, which meant they were even cheaper, happy with a direct donation to their reelection campaign or their second mistress's offshore bank account.
"And what is that supposed to mean?" Gregor's question carried an edge sharp enough to cut.
"It means that the world thinks your marriage has turned you soft. As did the marriages of Damien and Mikhail." Returning to the table, I raised my hand to stop the protests, my palm slicing through the tension.
"As I am sure you know, I don't believe this to be true. But the truth hardly matters in situations like this. Perception is far more potent. Even at this moment, a sniper could stare down his sights, looking to take aim and take me out. But I know he's not."
"Crystal ball?" Damien asked, his mouth twisting into a sneer.
"It's because I'm in the room, not on a roof," Mikhail said under his breath.
Gregor shot him a look that was enough of a reprimand. Although that he felt comfortable enough to speak like that in the first place proved my point.
"No, my reputation keeps me safe. They fear the Ivanov name more than they fear a single entity. That keeps every man in this room, and those who we have given our name to, safe. Solovyov has brought that into question. Using your wife to do it."
"Get to the point," Gregor demanded. His patience was wearing thin, but he would show me the respect my position demanded.
"My point, dear cousin , is that Solovyov's bullshit puts us all at risk. It isn't about dealing with one man and his family. It's about not allowing him to win a single battle in this war. He's not stupid or weak. He knows we’ve caught on to his plans, and I'm sure by now he knows that his little Trojan horse has been put down. Solovyov won't stop, and he will diversify his attacks. Soon he won't just be sending men to DC, he will look for another seat of power to take from you."
"He can try," Mikhail said dismissively, rolling a toothpick between his teeth.
"Tell me, when was the last time any of you have been to Chicago? What happens if Solovyov strikes there? How will you respond? Or what if he goes after the ports in Seattle or California? Can you drop everything on a dime to see to it while maintaining current operations here?"
"He can't?—"
"He can and he will." My fist crashed against the table. "Solovyov has resources. We may think of him as a bloated old fuck whose name is diminished in Russia, but he is still the head of his family. We can't afford to underestimate him."
"We can handle?—"
"Yes, you can," I said, cutting off Damien. "But at what cost? If he lands even a single hit, then we are done. Yes, we will triumph over Solovyov, but the rest of the world would have seen the hit. If we bleed, the sharks will come."
"Then we will deal with the sharks." Gregor stood to look me in the eye, his gaze unyielding.
"But how many? And at what cost? If they see us as weak, they'll come for us. The Colombians, the Yakuza, the cartels. They will all come to claim a part of this country. Right now, we have a truce with all of them. We have an understanding that depends upon a very delicate balance. If the balance shifts, they will try to take us down."
"I think—" Damien interrupted.
"I think you forget that the Colombians are already pissed and just need an excuse. They have agreed to terms, for now. But they still want your head."
I stared Damien down, reminding him of what he did to get his wife to safety. It was the right move, but that didn't mean there still wasn't a cost that we all had to pay.
"I could use a fight." Mikhail shrugged, and Gregor and Damien laughed.
Even Pavel and Kostya were pressing their lips together, trying not to join in the laughter.
"This won't be a fight, Mikhail. It will be a bloody war." My voice dropped to a lethal register. "One we may very well win, but at what cost? If we are at war because they think we are weak, then the Ivanov name will not protect your women."
That shut them up. The room went so silent I could hear the ice melting in Damien's glass.
"What a trophy Samara would make to the Yakuza, and the other Russians would do horrible things to Nadia as the Ivanov princess. And how many families would fight to get their hands on Yelena and her horse-betting scheme?"
I let the question hang in the air.
The three men that were laughing before were now grim-faced, pale beneath their tans.
Damien tightened his fist on the table until his knuckles blanched white.
Mikhail's fingers rubbed together like he was itching to pull his weapon.
Gregor sat there like stone. If it wasn't for the vein pulsing in his neck, I would have thought he hadn’t heard me.
I had always admired how tightly he held on to his rage.
He let it build and build until the explosion was large enough to destroy everyone in his path. There was really no way to tell when the explosion would happen.
Kostya called him a mafia jack-in-the-box once, and although the comparison was funny, there was truth to that. I needed to defuse that bomb fast.
"No one wants that to happen," I said. "It is far easier and more effective to keep the current perception in place than it is to rebuild it while protecting our own."
"What exactly are you suggesting?" Gregor said between gritted teeth, each word a bullet.
I suppressed a grin and enjoyed the warm feeling of victory in my veins.
Gregor knew I was winning and that by the time I had Solovyov under my boot I would also have a piece of the new world in my pocket.
Damien pulled out a flask and took a shot of scotch from it like a heathen, no doubt trying to dull the rage.
"I suggest we stay here for the time being. We handle Solovyov and the issues he is presenting. You and your men keep the day to day. I know you have deals in the works with a few senators and military contracts. Keep them. Build our empire while I protect our name."
"And what do you want for this act of kindness?" Gregor's eyes narrowed to slits.
What I wanted was to take everything from Chicago west.
I wanted to run the ports on the West Coast, the guns that came from Mexico and Russia, and whatever else I could sink my teeth into. Moscow was just not as profitable as it had once been, but the potential here was untapped.
Not to mention, my background in building and running missile guidance systems would be very beneficial to grow Gregor's current military schemes into many, many more.
"Protecting one's family is not an act of kindness. It's an act of survival."
Gregor pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed, and took a deep breath.
He knew I wanted more.
He also knew I wasn't going to just say it.
Not until the most opportune time.
If I were to lay all my cards out on the table now, he could reject them. He could send me and my brothers packing before we got the foothold that we needed.
I wouldn't let that happen.
Moving around the room, a glint of gold caught my attention. There was a sitting area on the other side of the conference room with leather-backed armchairs and a small table between them, which held a chess set. Black and gold, more than likely hand-carved marble.
How appropriate.
This was absolutely a game of chess, but with well over two players.
The only question was, would Gregor willingly give up a few squares of territory to protect his queen?
Gregor moved over to the long china cabinet on the side of the room and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He shot it back in a single gulp, the crystal tumbler slamming back onto the polished wood.
Yeah, he knew I had him.
He knew that accepting my help would come with an eventual cost, and that cost was going to hurt. It wouldn't hurt nearly as much as refusing my help and then failing to do the job himself.
"My wife has not made me weak. If anything, I am far stronger because of her. Because now I have something to fight for, something that matters more than honor or respect."
I bit into the inside of my cheek to stop myself from reacting.
We never fought for honor or respect. We demanded honor and respect, but fought for power, for control. Honor and respect were side benefits, just like the money and the influence were.
"So then, what do you fight for?" I asked, my question more of a challenge.
"I fight for her. My entire empire now is for her. To protect her, to provide for her and give her absolutely anything her heart desires. I won't allow anyone to threaten her or my child’s security." His words were carved from granite, unyielding and cold.
"Neither will I, cousin. I may not fight for the same reasons you do, but I will fight to protect this family and everyone who is in it."
We stared at each other.
A show of wills, neither of us blinking.
The air between us crackled with electric tension, our brothers shifting uncomfortably in the periphery.
I wasn't going to back down, and neither was he.
"This is going to happen, cousin, one way or another. You can help me or fight me. The end result will be the same."
"You underestimate me." His words were a knife's edge.
Before I could respond, the door burst open and two of my men walked in, their faces tight with urgency.
"You were told we were not to be disturbed," I snapped, jaw clenching.
"Apologies but—" One of the guards looked around and then leaned in, lowering his voice so I had to strain to hear him.
"It's Viktoria. She is at a party, exposed, and we think she might be drugged. There have been reports of frats drugging girls and we want to know how you want to handle it."
Fuck.
I was practically accusing Gregor of being distracted and losing his edge for a woman, and here I was, ready to abandon a critical negotiation for the same reason.
"Gentlemen, something has come up that requires my immediate attention." I straightened my tie, already calculating the fastest route to her location.
I didn't wait for Gregor to respond, to demand answers, or ask what I was doing.
Even if I were inclined to give Gregor the answers, I didn't have the time.
As soon as I got my hands on Viktoria, she was going to learn what happened to little girls who put themselves in risky situations.
And whoever touched her would learn what happened when they took something that belonged to me.