14. Artem
Artem
The moment I walk into the private dining room and see Katya sitting across from Viktor, I know things are about to hit a crescendo.
This is the moment I won't come back from. Even more than this morning. And for a second, when I see Katya's face, especially as she works through things, putting pieces together, I briefly consider turning back.
Her eyes widen, and I know she understands how thoroughly she's been played.
"Viktor," I warmly extend my hand as though this is a pleasant social encounter. "Thank you for allowing me to join you." Not that he had much of a choice.
"Artem." Viktor's handshake is firm, but his pale eyes are sharp, assessing. He's already calculating why the hell I'm interrupting his dinner. "I wasn't expecting you tonight."
I can feel Katya staring at me, hear her breath coming in short, rapid bursts. Her already pale face is nearly as white as a sheet.
"I apologize for the interruption," I continue smoothly, ignoring her, "but there's something we need to discuss. Something that affects both our families."
Viktor's expression shifts. He's a man who survived decades in a world where unexpected meetings usually mean someone's about to die.
His hand moves almost imperceptibly toward his jacket, and I hold back a laugh.
The guy is ancient, and there's no way he could best me in a gunfight.
And while his guards are loyal, they aren't all on his side.
He wouldn't make it.
Not that he needs to worry. Not now. I'm here for other things.
"What is it?" His voice is carefully neutral, even as he calculates the room.
I pull out the chair next to Katya and sit down without invitation. She recoils like I've struck her, pressing herself as far from me as she can. Viktor's eyes move between us in confusion.
I don't waste time, getting right to it. "I want to marry your granddaughter."
The words hit the room like a bomb.
Viktor goes still. Katya makes a sound like she's choking, and I briefly worry that she is going to pass out. I almost reach toward her, but I stop.
"Artem?" Her voice shakes.
I focus on not looking at her. This conversation is between Viktor and me. She's just the commodity being negotiated, and I want to make sure she understands that — it'll make the future easier.
I keep my voice level, businesslike. "I want Katya as my wife."
Viktor's face cycles through confusion, recognition, and finally, cold fury. But there is something else under the veneer that makes me think this might be more interesting than I originally thought. He wants her in the business, and he wants me married. In some ways, it's a win. "Explain."
"Explain?" Katya's voice climbs higher. "Explain?" She tangles her hands in her hair, pulling at the dark strands. "I think I'm having a mental breakdown."
"How long have you known?" Viktor asks me, ignoring his granddaughter's distress. "About who she is?"
"Good fucking question," she snaps.
We both ignore her, which I know is only going to make her angrier. Katya isn't as delicate a flower as people think.
"Long enough." I signal Pyotr, who's been waiting outside. "My former profession made me very good at finding information people prefer to keep hidden."
Viktor's jaw tightens. He remembers my intelligence background, my father's connections. He's putting the pieces together, realizing this was orchestrated from the beginning.
"What do you want, Artem?" The question is steel-edged. "You have power. You have territory. Your father may have lost his position, but you've built something new. You've taken what Alexei once had. If it is revenge you've been after, you have it."
My hands flex slightly under the table. "Alexei could never have repaid what he took from me."
"What?" Katya's eyes are wide. "Alexei is dead?"
Again, we ignore her.
"He paid the ultimate price." Viktor picks up his glass and takes a sip of wine. "So bygones."
My eyes narrow. Viktor cannot be this stupid. "The New York outfit has been…" I trail off. "Challenging. It's only a matter of time before someone rebels, and frankly, I do not have time to expand, train new men, and kill traitors."
"So you want legitimacy?"
"I want a marriage. Isn't the trading of young women the best way to solidify power?"
A tic plays in Viktor's cheek. He knows exactly where this is coming from.
But I can tell Katya is confused.
"Stop talking about me like I'm not here!" she yells. "Who the fuck are you, Artem?" She turns to her grandfather, whose eyes haven't left me. "And why the fuck are you taking him seriously?"
While she's reeling, I shoot off a text, and Pyotr enters carrying a large laundry bag. He places it on the table between us with the reverence of someone presenting evidence at a trial.
Viktor's expression darkens immediately. He glances at Katya, and I see the way he's putting it all together. He doesn't need to see it to know.
After all, I'm taking this out of his personal playbook.
"What is that?" Katya's voice is high and breathless.
"Open it."
Her hands shake as she reaches for the bag. When she pulls out the bloodstained sheets from last night — pristine white Egyptian cotton marked with the evidence of her virginity — she makes a sound like a wounded animal.
It's horrendous enough to make my throat bob. This was a step I'd considered not taking. Pyotr tried to caution me against it, but I knew I needed proof. There needs to be no way out.
And yet, as I watch Katya lurch backward, her face ash gray, I feel a pit in my stomach. She presses both hands to her mouth. "Oh my God, you kept them." She gags, then turns to me, eyes filled with hurt and betrayal, more than even this morning. "You planned this."
Viktor's fury is immediate and volcanic as he watches Katya collapse back into her chair, body shaking. These sheets, stained with blood, are a testament to his lack of control over his granddaughter. I took her innocence without having the decency to ask him for her hand.
This is a huge fucking slight to a man like him, and I relish the anger in his eyes, even as I feel pain at hurting Katya.
"You orchestrated this." His voice could cut diamond. "You seduced her. You took her innocence deliberately."
"Yes." There's no point in denying what's obvious.
"This morning. The way you treated me—" She's hyperventilating. "You already knew this was going to happen."
The devastation in her voice hits something in my chest. For a moment, I see Irina's face instead of hers — young, terrified, betrayed by men who should have protected her. I want to beg her for forgiveness. Promise her that I will protect her.
I don't.
I push the feeling down. This is necessary. Viktor destroyed my sister. Now he'll understand how it feels.
"This is insane," Katya whispers. "This is actually insane." She turns to her grandfather, desperation bleeding into her voice. "Tell me you're not seriously considering whatever this is."
Viktor's face is stone. "You've been compromised. Your reputation, your honor?—"
"My honor?" Katya's voice cracks. "My honor? I'm not a fucking medieval princess! This is New York, not fifteenth-century Russia!"
"Language," Viktor snaps automatically. He's angry, and he can't take it out on me, so he chooses the easiest target.
"No!" She slams her hand on the table, making the wine glasses jump.
"I will not sit here and let you discuss me like I'm property.
I don't care what those sheets prove. I don't care about your backward ideas about honor.
I'm not marrying him." She points a finger at me.
"You should be defending my honor, not giving it away. "
The fire in her voice is exactly why this plan will work so perfectly. She's strong, spirited, everything Irina wasn't. I won't be able to break her. That's what I remind myself as I feel Irina's bracelet shift on my wrist.
Her value is that Viktor loves her, a great deal, and that weakness will kill him.
"You will marry him," Viktor says quietly, "because the alternative is unacceptable."
"What alternative?" Katya laughs, but it's brittle, desperate. "What could possibly be worse than being forced into marriage with someone who—" She gestures toward me with pure disgust. "You are disgusting. You both are. And there's absolutely no way I'll marry you."
Sighing, I gesture toward Pyotr. "I worried that you might be hesitant to agree, so allow me to sweeten the pot."
Pyotr returns, dragging in Katya's friend, Nico Giovanni, a distant relative to the Marini family, a young man who is close to her, whose eyes are wide as he takes in the room.
He's been around the block enough to know how this is going to go, and despite the way he juts his chin, his fear is palpable.
"Nico." Katya's voice breaks on his name. "Stop this," she says to her grandfather. "You are the head of the Bratva. You can order him to stop."
Viktor and I share a glance. He knows why I brought the boy here, and I see him calculating how best to play this. He does not want me to marry Katya, but he doesn't have a choice. His granddaughter or his reputation? I know what choice he will make. And so does he.
"Your friend has a promising career," Viktor says conversationally, studying Nico like he's evaluating livestock. "Principal dancer track, I'm told. Such dedication. Such talent."
Katya is breathing loudly, hyperventilating. "Stop this," she repeats. "Or I'll never forgive you."
Viktor cannot stop it. And he knows this. Several guards saw the sheets, and even loyal men talk. Katya is now a liability, and I'm offering a way out.
"Katya," Nico's voice is strong, which I find admirable. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine." He glares at Viktor. "Saint Marini?—"
Viktor ignores him, cutting him off. "A broken leg would end your career, no?" he says to Nico.
The boy's face goes white as Viktor turns to the guard. "Bring me a pipe. Best to do this well."
"Stop." Katya is shaking. "Don't."
"And if that doesn't provide sufficient motivation," Viktor adds, "I understand Miss Lacey comes from a very wealthy family. Her father is in…politics, no?"
Katya shakes her head.
"How would he fare if they knew he kept a young mistress. Younger than his daughter." He makes a sound in the back of his throat. "Even more interesting is what he does when they get too old to satisfy his obsessions."
Katya doubles over like she's been physically struck. Tears are streaming down her face. "You're monsters. Both of you."
The accusation should bounce off me. I've been called worse by better people. But something about the way she says it — broken, defeated, like I've just confirmed her worst fears about the world — makes my chest tighten.
This is necessary, I remind myself. Viktor traded Irina like currency, gave her to a monster who destroyed her. Now he'll lose something precious too.
"One phone call," I tell Katya, my voice steady and cold. "That's all it takes. Your friends' lives can continue normally, or they can become very complicated very quickly."
Nico is trembling now, but he reaches for Katya's hand across the table. "It's okay, Kat. I'll be okay."
"No." Katya jerks away from his touch. "It's not okay. None of this is okay."
She looks at me with such pure hatred I almost take a step back. "Why? Why me? What did I ever do to you?"
The answer is nothing. She's done absolutely nothing except have the misfortune to be Viktor's granddaughter. She's collateral damage in a war she doesn't even know is being fought.
Not that I tell her that.
"You're beautiful. You're from the right family. You'll make a suitable wife."
The clinical way I say it makes her flinch like I've slapped her. "I hate you," she snarls.
"You'll learn to manage that like most good wives."
Viktor stands, straightening his suit jacket with practiced movements. "The wedding will be next week. Russian Orthodox ceremony, small guest list. You'll move into Artem's apartment immediately after."
"I won't do it." Katya's voice is steady despite the tears streaming down her face. "I'll run. I'll disappear. You can't watch me every second of every day."
"I don't need to watch you. I have them." Viktor nods toward Nico. "One wrong move, Katya, and your friends pay for your defiance."
The fight goes out of her all at once. Viktor might have given her a long leash, but he's pulling it back now, and she realizes it. Her shoulders slump, her hands fall to her sides. She looks like a marionette with cut strings.
"I need time," she whispers. "Please."
"Three days," I tell her. "We'll announce the engagement tomorrow."
She laughs, but it's the sound of something breaking inside her. "Engagement. Right. Because we want to maintain the illusion that this is anything other than extortion."
Viktor moves toward her, reaching out like he wants to comfort her, but she flinches away from his touch violently.
"You'll understand when you're older," he says, trying to soften things. "Family requires sacrifice."
"Family." Katya shakes her head slowly. "You're not my family, and I will never forgive you for this."
She stands on unsteady legs, looking between Viktor and me like she's seeing us both clearly for the first time.
"If I do this," she swallows heavily, "when I do this, I want your word that my friends will be safe. All of them. Forever."
"You have it," Viktor says immediately. I suspect this has hurt him more than he's let on. And yet he can't deny that he chose his position over his granddaughter, which I know stings.
"Not from you." Her eyes lock onto mine, and I see intelligence there beneath the devastation. She's learning to think strategically under pressure. "From him. Because he's the one who'll actually be able to hurt them."
The request is reasonable. Smart, even. She's already adapting, figuring out how the power structures work.
I see something flash in Viktor's eyes, and I know he realizes what she just suggested. He's weaker than I am, and even Katya knows it.
"They'll be untouched," I promise, and I mean it. Her friends are irrelevant to my larger goals. "As long as you honor our agreement."
"Meaning?"
"You'll be my wife. In all ways."
I expect her to push back, to negotiate. Instead, she nods once, sharp and bitter. "Am I excused?" I'm not sure who she is asking, but Viktor replies.
"For now."
Pyotr lets go of Nico, and the boy cradles her to him, as though he can protect her from what just happened.
Katya doesn't look back as she walks out on shaky legs.
The satisfaction I expected isn't there. Instead, there's just the hollow awareness that phase one is complete.
Katya Popova will be mine.
And Viktor will watch his beloved granddaughter disappear into a marriage that will destroy her, just like his arrangement destroyed my sister.
Justice, finally.
So why does watching her break feel like swallowing glass.