Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
MAKSIM
The air down here is heavy with expensive cologne, expensive tobacco, and the stench of desperate, pathetic men.
I enter the underground level of the hotel with disgust. I make sure nothing in my expression reveals what I am thinking.
I keep my face completely blank, as always, but every step deeper into this place makes me want to turn around and leave.
I have spent my entire life in the underworld.
I have seen every form of illegal trade the syndicates can invent, but this particular kind of spectacle enrages me.
It is not because I am innocent. It is certainly not because I consider myself a moral man.
I am the Pakhan of the Sokolov Bratva and my hands are covered in fucking blood.
But to me, there is nothing more pathetic than powerful men congratulating themselves for buying frightened women. It's weak. It's a joke.
I am not here for a goddamn bride. I am here because Viktor Reznikov requested a meeting.
Viktor has been pressing me for months to open a new financing channel through my Eastern European arms pipelines. I do not trust the bastard. I dislike his faction, I dislike his absolute lack of discipline, and I dislike the reckless, stupid way he handles business.
Still, his proposal is important enough that I have to at least hear it out. Refusing him too quickly, without looking at the numbers, could create an unnecessary war I don't feel like fighting today.
"Maksim!" Viktor's voice cuts through the low chatter of the room.
He walks toward me with a wide, fake smile, holding a glass of amber liquid.
"I have to admit, I am surprised to see you here.
But I am very grateful you are finally showing some interest in this business.
We are going to make a hell of a lot of money together. "
I look at him, noting the sweat on his brow and the sloppy fit of his suit. I don't believe a single word coming out of his mouth, but I don't say anything.
"Hello, Viktor. Let’s discuss the money when I see the logistics," I reply, my voice flat. "If you are ready, we can have our meeting now."
Viktor laughs, waving his hand in the air dismissively. "Now? What is the fun in that?" He points toward the stage at the front of the room, where the lights are beginning to dim. "The auction is about to start. Come and watch it with me."
"Unfortunately, I have business to attend to tonight, Viktor," I say, keeping my tone perfectly calm but firm.
"This is also business, my friend," Viktor says, a dark glint in his eyes as he nudges my shoulder. "Trust me. You want to see this shit."
I narrow my eyes slightly. I don't want to seem difficult or defensive before we even sit down to negotiate. It is better to play along for now and keep my enemy close.
"Fine," I say. “Lead the way.”
Viktor nods, looking satisfied as he turns around. "Excellent. Come with me."
He leads us to one of the private viewing sections, and we sit down just as the auction begins.
One by one, the women are led onto the stage.
Their photographs and profiles flash on the massive screen behind them: names, bloodlines, family connections, political value, and strategic usefulness.
It is a disgusting display of inventory.
Some of the women try to stay composed, keeping their heads up, while others tremble so violently they can barely stand.
I watch without moving a single muscle. My face remains completely calm, but my thoughts grow colder with every fucking bid that echoes through the room.
Viktor, on the other hand, is enjoying this way too much. He leans forward, his eyes locked on the stage, commenting on the women as if they are pieces of territory already divided on a map.
A girl is brought out under the harsh lights. She looks barely twenty, her eyes red from crying. The screen behind her lists her as the daughter of a major Greek shipping executive.
"Look at that one," Viktor mutters, swirling the ice in his glass. "Her family controls the ports in Odessa. Whoever buys her gets a free pass on shipping. Beautiful and profitable. That is how you run a syndicate, Maksim."
I don't answer him. I just stare at the stage, wishing I was anywhere else but this miserable room, waiting for this circus to end so we can finally talk about the damn pipelines.
My lack of response or enthusiasm doesn’t seem to deter him, because he won’t stop fucking talking.
“Look at those tits—sagging already,” he hisses. “Still, she looks like a tight pussy. Should I buy her? Just to break her in?"
I keep my eyes fixed straight ahead, my jaw clenching slightly. "We are here for a meeting, Viktor."
He scoffs, completely ignoring me as the next woman is dragged out. She is older, trying desperately to keep her chin up, but her hands are shaking against her dark silk dress. The screen displays her connection to a major money-laundering ring in Spain.
"Ah, now she has some meat on her," Viktor says, a disgusting grin spreading across his face. "Look at how that dress hugs her breasts. A man could really bury his face in those while he takes everything her family owns. She'd be good for a few months before she gets boring."
It is pathetic. Every word out of his mouth makes him look less like a leader and more like a pig. I stay silent, counting the minutes until I can leave this room.
The girl leaves the stage, and another one is forced out.
For some reason, my eyes lock onto her, and my attention sharpens immediately.
She is wearing a designer gown with number 102 pinned on it, her hair perfectly held back, framing a serene, strikingly beautiful face.
She isn't acting like the others. When the guard tries to pull her toward the center of the platform, she shoves hard against him and stomps right on his foot before climbing the stage.
She does not look broken like the rest of them. She looks furious, and barely restrained, as if she is one breath away from clawing through every fucking man in this room.
The screen behind her flashes, displaying her profile.
Camilla Caruso.
The text names her as Massimo Caruso's fourth daughter, tying her value to massive weapons financing, premium port access, and deep Italian-American influence.
Viktor notices my sudden interest, a greasy smile stretching across his face. "Ah, so the ice man finally has a pulse. Do you like this one, Maksim?"
I force my face to remain deadpan, cutting my eyes to him. "I don’t have an interest in marrying, Viktor. And even if I did, this is the last place I would ever pick a bride."
Viktor's smile only widens. He turns his gaze back to the stage, his eyes darkening. "Good. Because Camilla is the one I came here to claim."
A sudden rush of something tight and dark hits my chest, but I don't confront it. I keep my voice completely flat. "Why her?"
"The Carusos are a powerful Italian family.
I want to be aligned with them," Viktor says, leaning forward as if sharing a secret.
"Plus, everyone knows Massimo Caruso is incredibly strict with his daughters.
I am certain the little bitch is a virgin, and I have a thing for violent sex with virgins. Their blood turns me the fuck on."
A wave of pure disgust hits me so hard I can feel it in my jaw. I am no saint, but this piece of shit is completely undisciplined. I slide out of my seat and rise.
"I have to leave now," I say, adjusting my suit jacket. "We can postpone the meeting."
Viktor looks up, startled, then lets out a heavy sigh. "Come on, Maksim. Bidding doesn't start for another hour. We can have our meeting right now."
I look down at him for a long, silent second. If I leave now, I lose the chance to see what he's planning. I give a short nod. "Fine."
I follow Viktor as he leads the way out of the auction room and down the hall into another private room to finally look at his damn numbers.
We sit across from each other at a polished mahogany table, and as Viktor lays out the specific logistics of his proposal, my disgust only deepens.
He wants full access to my Eastern European arms financing channels and smuggling pipelines, but his plan is a goddamn mess.
His security protocols are practically nonexistent, and his cybercrime banking fronts are so sloppy they might as well be an open invitation for a federal raid.
He is reckless, undisciplined, and a liability to anyone who does business with him.
"Your routing numbers go through three major banks that are already under watch," I say, closing the folder with a sharp snap. "And your pipelines intersect with turf that is heavily contested. The risk outweighs the reward, Viktor. I am out."
I refuse his proposed collaboration with calm finality.
Viktor freezes, the ugly scowl on his face flashing for a split second before he forces a greasy smile back into place. He leans back, waving a hand dismissively.
"Come on, Maksim. Don't be so rigid. Those banks are a temporary fix.
We can route the first two quarters through Cyprus.
The infrastructure is already there. You provide the muscle and the channels, and I guarantee you fifty percent of the net profit.
That's higher than anyone else in the city will offer you. "
"My decision is final," I say, my voice flat, unyielding. "I am not risking my networks on a sloppy operation."
Viktor’s forced smile strains at the edges, his eyes darkening. "Sixty percent, then. I will take the brunt of the logistics risk. Look at the bigger picture here. An alliance between our families cements our hold on the entire seaboard."
"I am no longer interested in doing business with you at all, Viktor. At any percentage."
I look at the desperation radiating off him, confirming the rumors floating around the underworld. Word on the street is that Viktor is bleeding funds and going broke. Seeing him scramble like this proves it.
Originally, I was willing to overlook his financial strain; despite his money issues, Viktor is still the commander of our rival Bratva, and a strategic alliance like that might have proven beneficial to keep the peace.
But after seeing his disgusting, undisciplined reaction to the women on the stage, coupled with his reckless attitude right now?
I am scraping this entire deal. I am leaving.
Viktor’s greasy mask instantly cracks. The fake smile vanishes, his face twisting into a dark, ugly scowl. He slams his glass down on the table, liquid splashing over the rim.
"You think you're untouchable, Maksim?" he snarls, leaning over the table, his breath foul.
"If you don't open those channels for me, I will make sure your shipping lines start bleeding money.
Your supply lines will burn. And don't think your family is safe in Brighton Beach either.
I know exactly where your people sleep."
My blood runs cold, but I don't let a single flicker of emotion show on my face. Threatening my business is one thing. Threatening my family is a death sentence.
As he glares at me, I realize something without Viktor even having to say it.
If this piece of shit wins Camilla Caruso tonight, that new alliance with her father will help him build a massive empire—one he will immediately use to launch an all-out attack against the Sokolovs.
Letting Viktor have that girl would give him dangerous leverage that I cannot allow him to possess.
I rise slowly to my feet, making my decision silently. Camilla Caruso is no longer just a girl on a stage; she is the key to preventing a war on my own turf.
“Very well, then, Viktor.” I stay calm. “Then I guess the battle line has been drawn.”