Chapter Thirteen
Riccardo
T oni steps into my office, a grim expression on his face that tells me this isn’t going to be a casual conversation, which is annoying as hell because I’ve been feeling rather good after last night. And this morning.
Closing the door behind him, he says, “We’ve got a situation.”
I lean back in my chair, eyes narrowing. “What kind of situation?”
Toni crosses his arms, standing in front of my desk. “Word’s spread about the wedding. The Bratva heard that Anya married you, and some of the men aren’t taking it well.”
Of course. I expected backlash, but hearing it makes my stomach tighten and I fucking hate it when my body is weak like that. “What are they saying?”
“They’re calling it betrayal.” Toni’s voice is hard, but there’s an undercurrent of frustration. “Anya marrying an Italian, especially you... They think she’s abandoned her Russian roots just like her brother. And they’re using that to rally support around Dmitri.”
I rub my temples, feeling the tension build. “How many?”
“A good number of them,” Toni says, his tone flat. “Enough to make a difference. From what we can tell, Dmitri’s been talking to them, making his intentions clear. He’s after the entirety of the Bratva’s Toronto operations, and with more men defecting to his side, it’s looking like he’s got a real shot at it.”
I lean forward, my elbows resting on the desk, and stare at him. “How do you know this?”
Toni gives me a small, grim smile. “A few ways. But most importantly, we’ve got a guy on the payroll who’s a small fish with the Russians. He was able to record Dmitri offering incentives to those who were on the fence. And now, with Anya married to you, he’s spinning it like she’s turned her back on them, saying the city will fall to us and the Bruno syndicate, leaving no space for the Russians to operate. It’s got some traction.”
I curse under my breath. This isn’t good. I hate it when someone else has control over my timeline and I haven’t decided yet how I want to play this.
Mostly, all I’ve been thinking about is playing with Anya. And not in the business-like sense.
And now the asshole is using my marriage to solidify his claim. And the worst part? He might just succeed, which means we played into his hand and that just pisses me off.
“What’s worse,” Toni continues, apparently intent on ruining my day completely, “a lot of the others who haven’t outright joined him are sitting back, waiting to see what happens. They don’t have anyone else to look to. Without a clear leader stepping up, they’re inclined to follow Dmitri, if for no other reason than stability.”
I stay silent for a moment. “Give me your take. Where does that leave us?” I ask, my voice low but controlled. In this case, it won’t hurt to take Toni’s opinion into consideration. There is a reason he’s my second in command. He’s not only loyal and ruthless when he needs to be, he’s also smart and observant.
Toni shrugs, though there’s tension in the movement. “There’s a very high likelihood that the Brotherhood will replace the Bratva’s leadership through Dmitri. Same city split up, but there will be a drastic attack on our shipping monopoly, unless we do something about it. And what we do depends a great deal on how you want to handle the agreement with the Bruno syndicate.”
My mind races. The Bratva men defecting to the Brotherhood is a problem, but it’s not insurmountable. I can work with this. I just need to find the right leverage.
“I need to talk to Gianna,” I say, standing up abruptly. Toni raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t question me.
“You want me to set up a meeting?”
“No. I’ll handle it myself.” I grab my jacket. Gianna’s always been calculating, always playing her own games. She’s married to Mikhail, which complicates things, but I know she’s as annoyed about the Dmitri situation as I am, which could swing in my favor.
I turn to Toni before leaving. “If anyone makes a move, I want to know immediately. I’ll let you know when we head out to meet the Brunos.”
“Understood,” he says, and I walk out of the office.
The door opens, and I glance up as Mikhail and Gianna walk into the back room of the restaurant on Lake Shore Boulevard. Mikhail looks just as irritated to see me as I am to see him. The guy’s a killer through and through, but the idea of him having real insight into what’s going on with the Bratva? Doubtful. Gianna, on the other hand, is all composure, dressed immaculately, her eyes sharp as she assesses the room.
The back room of the restaurant is dimly lit. It’s not my restaurant, but it’s in my territory. It’s perfect for a meeting like this—somewhat neutral, yet undeniably under my control. The air smells of rich Italian food, but I can’t say I have much of an appetite despite the extra workouts I’ve gotten, thanks to my new wife.
It’ll be fun to see Mikhail’s face when he finds out I not only married his sister, but have also been fucking her brains out. But that has to wait.
Gianna sits down across from me, composed as always, while Mikhail glares at me like a bomb waiting to go off. Not that it’s enough to bother me. I stay calm, knowing it’ll tick him off even more. Maybe he already knows about Anya and me. No matter.
“Thank you for coming. I think it’s time we had another conversation about how to handle Dmitri and the Solntsevskaya Brotherhood, especially given the recent passing of Adrik Tsepov.” I shift my gaze to Mikhail. “My condolences.” I give him a small nod and then return my attention to Gianna, since I doubt Mikhail is planning on having a heartfelt exchange about the passing of his father. I wouldn’t even have bothered with the condolences if it weren’t for Gianna sitting in the room with us.
Politics.
This conversation isn’t something I particularly want to have either, but it’s necessary. The alliance between mine and Gianna’s syndicates is fragile, especially after I messed with her butler fairly recently, may his soul rest in peace. And now, with Dmitri’s moves potentially pitting Mikhail and Gianna against me, it’s crucial that we lay out the rules now.
“Indeed.” Gianna says smoothly, her eyes flicking toward Mikhail for a brief moment. “I’m sure you’ve heard about Dmitri’s recent activities by now.”
I nod, keeping my gaze on her, but Mikhail’s presence irritates me. His father’s death might put him closer to this situation than most, but it doesn’t make him any better at navigating it. Gianna’s the real strategist here, and it would be a hell of a lot easier to have this conversation privately.
“He’s making moves,” I reply, my voice even. “And some of the Bratva are leaning his way. Not unexpected, but it’s becoming a problem.”
Mikhail leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “A problem I’m willing to solve quickly,” he says, his tone aggressive.
I suppress a sigh. This isn’t going to be easy.
Gianna cuts in before Mikhail can keep going. “You’re right in that Dmitri is positioning himself, and Mikhail may have some insight into the Russian mindset that we don’t, given his family connections.”
I glance at Mikhail, skeptical. More insight? The guy’s good at pulling a trigger and cutting out eyeballs, but strategic thinking? Not so much. I don’t voice that, though. I’m not here to pick a fight with Gianna—or Mikhail, for that matter.
“I’m not so sure,” I say carefully, keeping my voice measured. “Dmitri’s making his play, but the Bratva is still fractured. And if your syndicate’s considering moving into their territory, we need to establish boundaries first. Otherwise, I’ll have to view it as a breach of our agreement.”
Gianna’s eyes flash, but she keeps her cool. “We’re not moving anywhere yet, Riccardo. And I don’t plan on making a move without there being a conversation with you first. But we need to plan for every possibility. Dmitri won’t wait for us to sort things out.”
Mikhail shifts in his seat, his agitation obvious. “We need to act now. Dmitri’s already pissing all over the place to mark his territory and I, for one, don’t fucking like it.”
Gianna gives him a sideways glance, her expression unreadable, but then she raises an eyebrow at me, a silent question hanging between us. Is this about territory? About control? Or is this personal?
I hold her gaze for a moment before speaking. “You’re right. He won’t wait for us while we make any kind of detailed plans. So there are two options. We split the territory fairly, or we back someone other than Dmitri to take over the turf. The former gains us territory, but the problem of having to deal with the push back from the Brotherhood and the established Bratva goons. Even the city officials may need an extra dose of cash to make them overlook things. In the latter case, if we decide to back someone from the Bratva to oppose Dmitri, we should consider someone who already has both experience and a name within the Bratva.” I pause for a moment, then throw out the suggestion that I hope I won’t regret later on. “Anya could be that person.”
Mikhail’s expression hardens instantly, but his eyes narrow slowly, as if he’s just figuring out what I’m implying.
“Anya?” Gianna’s voice is smooth, but there’s an edge to it. “You think Mikhail’s sister should take over?”
“It makes sense,” I say. “She’s Adrik Tsepov’s daughter and therefore has a claim to inherit. She knows the men, and she knows the business. And with the right backing, she could hold the Bratva together.”
Before I can say that we all have a connection to her, so there would be no unfair advantage to either side, Mikhail interrupts, leaning forward with a scowl. “Hold on a second. You’re suggesting my sister step into that mess? After what’s been going on?”
I glance at him, choosing my words carefully. “It’s an option worth considering. The Bratva respects bloodlines, and Anya’s position—“
Mikhail cuts me off, his voice rising. “Her position? What position? Father never wanted her in the organization. You think just because she’s related to our father, she’ll automatically be accepted? Think again.”
“Actually, I was thinking she’d be accepted because she has the guts to go for what she wants. And from what I’ve seen from her in the past week, she’s got the motivation to step up against Dmitri.”
“From what you’ve seen of her?” Mikhail is seething, and Gianna seems disinclined to interject herself.
“Yes. Your sister came to me last week to suggest we get married. It got her the back-up she needed to avoid being married off to Dmitri as your father intended, and I got some useful intel in exchange. We went to city hall yesterday morning.”
Gianna’s eyes widen slightly, but I don’t react. This is exactly why I didn’t want Mikhail here. Well, for practical purposes, anyway. I do enjoy rubbing in the fact that I’m fucking his sister.
“You married her?” Mikhail accuses, his voice dripping with fury. “I can’t believe she would do something like that. She’s fucking smarter than that! What the hell did you do? Manipulate her into it?”
Before I can respond, Mikhail lunges forward, his fists clenched, but Toni, ever the enforcer, steps in between us before Mikhail can make a move or I can plant my fist in his face the way he deserves. Gianna rises to her feet as well, her voice sharp but controlled.
“Mikhail, enough.” She puts a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. “You’re not helping.”
Mikhail, still seething, glares at me. “You stay the hell away from her. You think just because you married her, you can use her to take control of the Bratva yourself?”
I remain seated, my expression calm. Toni is ready if Mikhail pushes things further and, as much as I wouldn’t mind the chance to have it out with him, it wouldn’t be the smart thing to do right now. Gianna gives Mikhail a firm look and nods toward the door. “Step outside. I’ll handle this.”
Toni moves with him, watching closely as Mikhail reluctantly steps away, his body tense with barely contained rage. It’s impressive how well Gianna has him under control. Then again, she wouldn’t have married him if he were a loose cannon. The second the door closes behind them, the tension in the room shifts.
Gianna exhales, shaking her head. “You actually married Anya Tsepov? Seriously?”
I lean back in my chair. “I didn’t manipulate her either. The marriage was her idea. I just liked what she had to offer.” I smirk, knowing Gianna knows as well as me that the parallel to her and Mikhail’s marriage is already working in my favor, even though I have to smooth things out with my own people.
Gianna raises an eyebrow. “Convenient, isn’t it?”
I meet her gaze. “Indeed. Dmitri was breathing down her neck, and being married to me gives her protection. And it gives both of us leverage.”
Gianna folds her arms, considering my words. “And you think putting Anya in charge of the Bratva is going to solve all our problems?”
“It could solve enough of them,” I say. “At the very least, it’ll keep Dmitri from taking full control. And if we cooperate, we can still push him out before he consolidates his power.”
Gianna looks at me, her expression unreadable. “But she is your wife. Don’t you think the Russians will find that a bit of a problem? You’ve got to realize that. Even if I were to work out an agreement with you, since she’s technically my sister-in-law, none of Adrik’s men are going to buy that.”
“They might, if they get to run their part of the city with the same take as before. They’d lose the Brotherhood looming over them, because they gain two allied syndicates opposing Dmitri. They might not like us, but we can be useful to them. We both know that overcoming that particular opposition isn’t impossible, given the fact we both married Bratva heirs.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game, Riccardo,” Gianna warns, though her voice sounds contemplative.
“So are you.” I shrug. “But we’re both good at it.”
And Anya would be, too. Unlike her brother. Though I keep that to myself.
There’s a long pause before Gianna speaks again. “Fine. I’ll go along with it for now. But make no mistake, if things go sideways and the Brotherhood takes over, I’ll protect my own first. Anya might be my sister-in-law, but la familia trumps that three-fold. And I bet you some of our friends abroad are going to have something to say about this.”
I nod. The old guard in Italy usually had some less progressive attitudes, but that I could handle.
I push my chair back. “That’s all I expected to get from this meeting, and I’ll deal with the fallout on my end if necessary.”
Gianna rises from the table, smoothing her dress. “I’ll talk to Mikhail. He’s hot-headed, but he’ll cool off. You should, too.”
I watch her leave, not particularly liking her last comment, but knowing better than to get the last word in when I just got everything I wanted from Gianna. She’s not an easy business ally to deal with and things are already going to get messier before they get better.