17. Ruslan
17
RUSLAN
I study Artyom's face across the dim light of the office. The grandfather clock ticks on, but neither of us feels the hour. His expression cycles through disbelief, concern, and something else I can't quite place as he absorbs my plan.
"So your plan is to marry this girl that you've known for what, barely a week, just to avoid marrying Tamara?" He rubs his palm over his face.
"You make it sound like I'm insane."
"Because this plan is insane." Artyom downs his vodka, wincing as it burns. "There's so much at risk. And it has way too many moving parts."
"Aurora understands the situation better than most bratva-born would."
"But she's still an outsider." Artyom waves his hand. "And what's to say Gregor Belov and the rest of the Vori will even agree to this?"
"They'll accept it because they have no choice." The confidence in my voice surprises even me. "The Vori don't want our guns falling under Semyon's control. That's my bargaining chip."
"What about your mother? Have you talked to Liliya about this?"
I almost smile. "I can handle my mother."
"Your mother is many things, and being easily handled is not one of them."
"That's not for you to worry about."
"Fine." His eyes narrow. "But do you know what I am worried about?"
"What?"
"What if you fall for her? For Aurora?"
The question hits harder than it should. I turn to the window, watching moonlight play across the grounds where armed men patrol.
"I won't," I say resolutely. But am I trying to convince Artyom, or myself?
"Because…"
"I don't do love, Artyom. Not anymore." The ghost of Leslie's face flashes behind my eyes. "You know this as well as I do."
"What I know," Artyom scoffs. "Is that you asked me to look into her a few minutes after Sienna Voss caused a scene at Nikoforov. What I know is that you've been staring at her like a lovesick puppy every night for the past week. And what I know is that you can say all you want that you don't do love, but you came running after her before you came running after the bratva. And that has to mean something."
"Stop it."
"I'm just trying to get you to see things like I do."
I turn back to face him, jaw tight. "I get that. But whatever it is you think you see, you're wrong. Aurora Castellanos and I are simply marrying for mutual benefits. Nothing more. I won't fall for her. I swear it."
Artyom leans against my desk, arms crossed over his chest, watching me with that knowing smirk I've grown to hate. He's been my best friend since childhood, which is why I made him my head of security after Father disowned me.
Other than Lev, Artyom is the most trusted person in my life.
Now he's the only one , I remind myself.
Sometimes, I wish he wasn't so damn perceptive.
But even as I deny what Artyom says, my mind flashes to Aurora earlier when I kissed her against the glass. The easy way her body fit in my arms as if she's made to be with me. The small whimpers tumbling from her throat when my hand tugged at her clothes.
"There's no way in hell you won't fall for this girl," Artyom interrupts my thoughts. "I know that look. I've seen it before."
He stops, letting the words hang in the air for a little while longer before he starts talking again.
"Does she know about the Garza girl? What happened to her?"
The question hits like a physical blow. I turn to look out the window, unable to face him. "No."
"Don't you think she deserves to know before marrying into this life? Before marrying you?"
"Of course she does," I admit, sighing. "But if I tell her that... about what happened..." My voice breaks slightly. "She'll run. And what happens if she ends up running into the stalker she's been running from this entire time?"
"So you'd rather trap her in ignorance?"
"I'd rather keep her alive."
It's the truth.
Artyom pushes away from the desk and steps toward me, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"Listen to yourself, Ruslan. You can claim you don't plan on falling for her all you want, but everything you're doing tells me otherwise. The way you talk about her... the way your voice changes... you're already halfway there."
I drag a hand across my face, desperate to shift the conversation away from Aurora and the dangerous direction of Artyom's observations.
"Setting aside this discussion about my non-existent love-life." I hold up my hand to stop Artyom from starting another comeback. "I need to discuss what will happen when I'm named pakhan. Namely, my choice for an avtoritet."
"I've been thinking about that too." Artyom's eyes narrow as he stares into his now-empty glass, and seriousness returns to his voice. "What about Kirill Grinev? He's been a brigadier for years."
"Kirill is too much of a hothead." I shake my head. "If I need someone killed, I'll choose him. But he's not a planner."
"What about Stepan Lopatin? He's level-headed, respected, can actually think more than three steps ahead?—"
"And he was one of Tamara's personal guards," I finish for him. "I can't trust someone that close to the Mikonovs as my avtoritet."
"Sergei Maslenikov? Man was practically raised by the bratva."
I scoff. "And Lev caught him skimming from every business he touched. If I can't even trust him with money, there's no way I can trust him with running the bratva."
Artyom nods slowly. "That doesn't leave many options."
"It does, actually." I cross the room to refill his glass, my decision already made. "You."
His head snaps up, expression hardening. "Me? You can't be serious."
"I've never been more serious, Artyom." I place the bottle down with a definitive thud. "I need someone who understands this world but isn't corrupted by it. Someone who follows rules but knows when to break them. Someone who will tell me when I'm being an idiot, but still have my back."
"Ruslan—"
"Who else but you?" I meet his gaze directly. "You've stuck by my side for nineteen years. I've trusted you with everything. Why not trust you with this."
"I never wanted this. I never thought?—"
"Neither did I." I offer a mirthless smile. "But here we are. I need you by my side for what I'm about to do."
Artyom stares into his glass, contemplating my offer.
"If I'm going to pull this off," I tell him. "Marrying Aurora, keeping my nieces safe, and proving that Semyon was behind killing Lev and Mikhail, then I need someone I can trust completely."
"The other brigadiers won't be happy."
"Let them. The bratva isn't a democracy."
Artyom meets my eyes. "I didn't think it'd come to me like this."
"Circumstances rarely align with our desires." I soften my voice. "What do you say, Artyom Yefimovich?"
He straightens his shoulders, decision made. "I accept, my pakhan."
Relief washes through me, one small victory in recent days filled with losses. "Good. Tell me about the dead man. He looked bratva."
Artyom sets his glass down. "He was."
"And?"
"He had Mikonov bratva tattoos on his chest." Artyom's eyes meet mine. "Eight-pointed star with the family crest in the center."
My jaw tightens. "So Lev and Mikhail's murders."
"Semyon must've had a hand in them both."
I lean back in my chair, thinking about Aurora's sharp assessment about how terribly convenient all of this is for Semyon. She'd seen through the situation so quickly, piecing together in minutes through what little she overheard on the vents.
I stand, feeling restless energy building inside me. "I need you to draw up a list. Every brigadier and boevik who can be trusted."
"And what exactly constitutes ' can't trust '?"
"Anyone with ties to Tamara. Anyone that came to the bratva with her after she married Lev. Anyone who might resist my authority. Anyone who might leak information to Semyon. I need to know who's with us before I make my moves."
Artyom nods, every inch the loyal man I need him to be. "Consider it done."
"Thank you, bratishka ." I clasp his shoulder. "Now go. We don't have much time."
Alone now, I walk to the window and stare out into the night. The moon casts a silvery glow over the grounds, highlighting the armed men patrolling below.
But inevitably, my eyes drift to the tower where Aurora is staying, and I realize I'm hoping to see her appear in the window.
Artyom's words echo in my mind. " You asked me to look into her a few minutes after Sienna Voss caused a scene at Nikoforov. You've been staring at her like a lovesick puppy every night for the past week. You can say all you want that you don't do love, but you came running after her before you came running after the bratva. That has to mean something ."
Maybe he's right. Maybe this isn't just about succession or protection. Maybe my feelings for Aurora run deeper than I'm willing to admit.
My zarechka —my little dawn—my princess in the tower.
But even as I stand here, wanting her, I remember her words from that night in the alleyway when she was busy chasing down the fluttering pages of the script.
" She'd have to be the one to confront her past, and he has to be the one who empowers her to do so. "
I smile to myself. There's a strength in Aurora that fascinates me endlessly—a resilience born from the past she's running from. I've seen it on her face.
There's a wildness to her beneath her perfectly composed mask. I've tasted it on her lips.
What else might I discover when I peel back the layers of the enigma that is Aurora Castellanos?
What other secrets hide behind those hazel eyes that have seen too much pain?
And then, for a single terrifying second, I realize that I'm daring to imagine a future—a future that I don't deserve—with her.