Chapter 13
JULIAN
Ican still smell her when Dobrov walks in.
I want that part of Lyra to stay exactly where it is on my hand while I deal with the man who almost certainly was responsible for the watcher outside of her apartment.
Dobrov enters the way he always does—unhurried, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes searching, as if he wants to scan every bit of the room to ensure it’s safe.
He’s wearing a charcoal-gray suit and silver-rimmed glasses, a sly smile on his lips.
It’s the same smile he wore when I first met him, back when I was nineteen, and he was sizing me up for the first time.
“Julian.” He settles into the chair opposite my desk without behind invited. “I received your message this morning. Very eloquent, as always.”
“I wasn’t aiming for eloquence.”
“No. You were aiming for my men’s kneecaps, from what I understand.” The smile tightens. “Two of my people, beaten unconscious and dumped like garbage outside of my office in Brighton Beach. Do you know where the orbital bone is?”
Of course, I know. But I’m in a bit of a belligerent mood this morning.
“Is that a new club of yours?”
He chuckles, then taps his brow. “Right here. One of my men had his smashed. Long recovery time for that one. Very sad. Very unnecessary.”
He’s not here to discuss the matter of the watcher.
As sure as I am that Dobrov is the one behind it, I’m not going to make such an accusation without solid proof.
Not to mention, Dobrov isn’t a fool—he’ll quickly understand why I’m so angry that he would pull such a stunt, and Lyra would become an even bigger target.
“They should consider themselves lucky—they were operating on Volkov territory without permission. I sent them back to you as a courtesy, Kostin. I could’ve sent them to the bottom of the Hudson.”
“That would’ve been unwise.” He lets the words hang in the air. “I have to say, you’re being rather aggressive this first week back in town.”
“I’m making corrections. Previous management would’ve let such matters slide. I won’t.”
He leans forward, his grandfatherly veneer thinning just enough to show the venom underneath.
“You have one syndicate aligned against you in the council. The Morozovs declared for me yesterday. You know this?”
“I do.”
“And then you respond by brutalizing my people over a minor territorial violation. That doesn’t look like strength and confidence to me, Julian. It looks like panic.”
“It’s enforcement. If you or anyone else sends men into my territory to interfere with my business, those are the consequences. And while such consequences would apply to anyone who would pull such a stunt, your moves in the council aren’t exactly endearing you to me.”
He scoffs and waves his hand. “Where’s Alexander? He was more fun to talk to. You’re always so serious, Julian.”
“You liked Alexander because you could walk all over him. But those days are over.”
He snorts. “It would seem so.”
The door opens and Ethan enters without knocking—which I’d planned for him to do. I received some news this morning, and I want to make sure that Dobrov hears it.
“Yes?” I ask, playing along as if the interruption wasn’t planned.
“News on the council,” Ethan says. “The Petrov and Zhukovsky families have both confirmed their support for your leadership.”
“Is that so?”
Ethan nods. “Formal declarations, in writing.”
These are two syndicates, both larger than Morozov’s, both with deeper pockets, longer reach, and more influence. Petrov controls port operations in Newark, while the Zhukovsky family runs the real estate laundering network that keeps half of the Bratva’s assets invisible.
I let the news settle, watching Dobrov’s face for his reaction. There isn’t much of one, other than a slight tic in his jaw, before he plasters on his typical knowing expression.
“Congratulations,” he says. “Two very important families. That’s very encouraging for your continued leadership, Julian.” He stands, buttoning his jacket. “It sounds like you’re really shoring up your position.”
He’s not done, of course. I say nothing, letting him go on.
“But know this—and I say it as someone who genuinely respects what your father built—that while you were away, your brother did nothing but have his little parties.”
“Alexander doesn’t concern me. He’s out of the picture.”
“He should concern you.” Dobrov pauses at the door.
“You underestimate him. Everyone does. That’s one of his skills.
Alexander can’t run a company, nor can he command a room quite the same way you can.
But he does possess possibly the most important skill a man can have—he knows how to make friends, whether real or not.
And in our world, friends are votes. Friends are power.
Don’t be so quick to dismiss your brother and what he’s capable of. ”
The room goes very quiet for a moment.
“I’m not dismissing anything,” I say.
“Good. Because the council is in three weeks. You have two families, I have one. And Alexander has more of them than you might think eating out of the palm of his hand, whether or not they’ve declared anything publicly.
” He opens the door, then turns and looks around.
“This office suits you. But take my advice—don’t get too comfortable. ”
He leaves, clicking the door shut. I clench my fists hard, then unclench them. Dobrov came onto my turf and threatened me, even if the reason behind it was for what I did to his men this morning.
I’ll get retribution. But in a way that matters.
Ethan shakes his head, easing into one of the chairs in the small meeting area in the corner of the office.
“He’s right,” Ethan says. “About Alexander.”
“I know. Alexander’s been building his coalition for months. He knew I’d come back. He’s a shithead, but he’s not stupid.”
Ethan reaches forward and takes a glass bottle of spring water from the table, twisting it open.
“His parties weren’t just about booze and women—they were about networking, cementing friendships.”
“And building loyalty.” I sigh, shaking my head. “My brother might be an incompetent CEO, but he’s a gifted politician. And sometimes, those types are the most dangerous.”
I take a moment to check myself. Alexander is my little brother, and it’s always tempting to see him as such. But he’s more than that. I think about how he smiled through the humiliation at the gala, as if everything were happening according to plan.
And I think about the board meeting, how practiced it all seemed, as if it were more about letting me think I had the upper hand, rather than a genuine loss for him.
“We have three weeks to make sure the families are on our side.”
“What’s the plan?”
“Take a page from my brother.”
The corner of Ethan’s mouth curls just a bit. “Yachts and escorts to win them over?”
I chuckle. “Face-to-face meetings. Taking time to listen to their concerns, convince them that they’ll be addressed in the years ahead.
And I’m going to bring them results—Asian shipping routes, fully operational, signed and sealed.
Let’s see whose friendship matters more when there’s actual money on the table. ”
Ethan nods. “I’ll start making some calls, get you some face time.”
“Do that.”
I turn back to the window, letting the sight of Manhattan wash over me.
Dobrov is going to make a move—of that I have no doubt. And depending on what it is, all the diplomacy in the world might not matter one bit.
Men like him crave power.
And they’ll kill to get it.