Chapter 25 #2
"Artem is an outsider. He's from Moscow. He has no organic support in New York. No infrastructure. No relationships." I lean forward. "The only reason he has any power at all is because Alexei's death created a vacuum. But Igor is Alexei's second. He has the men. The operations. The loyalty."
"So?" Marcello's interested now. I can see it. There's a spark in his eyes.
"Artem needs that footage because without it, he has nothing to threaten us with.
Nothing to force cooperation. Which means his position is weaker than he's pretending.
" I stand and start pacing. "He's not negotiating from strength.
He's negotiating from desperation. Taking fifty-percent of our territory allows him to come to the game with something that the Russians want.
Alexei tried the same thing—going after the Neros. Artem's just switching targets."
"That makes him more dangerous," Saint says. "Desperate men do stupid things."
"Or it makes him vulnerable." I move closer to them. "Igor is the natural next heir. Everyone knows it. Everyone expects it. What if we back him? Publicly. Give him our support. Make it clear the Italian families recognize Igor as Alexei's legitimate successor."
Understanding dawns in Marcello's eyes. "You want to delegitimize Artem before he can even release the video."
I nod.
"I want to destroy his power base before he builds it." I look at Saint. "If the Bratva sees Igor as the rightful Pakhan, backed by the most powerful Italian families in New York, Artem becomes a usurper. An outsider trying to steal power. The Russians will eat him alive."
"And the footage?" Saint asks. "Got any plans for that? Because if he releases it…"
"Nothing happens. Alexei wasn't well-liked, and Igor won't come after us.
Igor's not stupid—he knows what happened or at least suspects it.
Marcello paid him enough to keep quiet, and honestly, he clearly had his issues with Alexei.
You said that yourself. If he didn't care then, he won't care now.
He wants power more than revenge for a man he didn't like.
" I pause. "And Adrian might have disowned me, but he's still bound by the alliance contract to come to our defense.
The Neros and Marinis are allies on paper, and he's not going to want Artem in power any more than us.
He can't publicly back a Russian attack on you without breaking his word.
Igor won't want to start a war so soon into his succession.
Same as you. Artem is banking on you acting rashly.
If you go for his throat, I suspect he's prepared with a backup plan.
Instead, we back down and tell him to fuck off. "
Silence.
Marcello's smiling. "Damn. That's actually smart."
I roll my eyes. "I'm more than a pretty face, Marcello."
He holds up his hands in surrender.
"It's risky," Saint says. But he's thinking now. I can see it. "If Artem sees it coming—"
"He won't. Artem said Alexei underestimated me, but he's doing the same thing. He thinks you'll cave to protect me. Adrian would do it for Sera, and he knows that." I move to Saint. "He doesn't expect us to move to his opposition."
Saint stares at me. Then at Marcello.
"You think this will work?"
I'm offended that he needs Marcello's opinion. It's a good plan. But I hold my tongue, content that he's at least considering it.
"It's better than war. Better than giving him what he wants." Marcello nods. "And if it fails, we're no worse off than we are now."
"If it fails, Gemma's exposed," Saint says quietly. "And Artem knows we aren't willing to play."
"I'm already exposed." I take his hand. "Artem has that footage regardless. At least this way, we're playing offense instead of defense." I squeeze his fingers. "And if he bests us, I'll take the heat."
He glares. "No, you won't."
He's quiet for a long moment, and I can see him thinking about how he can kill Artem. He thinks that'll solve the issue.
"Trust me, Saint. Please." I give him my submissive face. Wide-eyed. Trembling lip. I'm not above using what I have.
He stares at me. I can see him warring with himself. The enforcer who wants blood versus the Don who needs to be strategic.
Finally, he closes his eyes. Takes a breath. When he opens them, the rage is still there but controlled.
"Okay. We do it your way." He looks at Marcello. "Set up a meeting with Igor. We need to move fast."
"On it." Marcello heads for the door.
Saint pulls me against him. "You're sure about this?"
"No. But I'm sure I don't want to spend the rest of my life waiting for Artem to use that footage. This way, we at least have a chance."
"If this doesn't work—"
"Then we'll figure something else out. Together." I look up at him. "Isn't that what you said? We're fucked up together?"
"Yeah." He kisses my forehead. "We are."
He holds me for a moment. Then pulls back.
"I need to call Igor. Set things up." He's already moving. "Stay here. Don't go anywhere without security. Artem might—"
"I know." I sit back down. "I'll be here."
He leaves.
And I sit in his chair, in his office, in his house.
Thinking about Artem. About Igor. About the game we're about to play.
I'm terrified.
But I'm also alive.
And for the first time since I killed Alexei, I feel like I'm not just surviving.
I'm winning.
Later that night, Saint finds me still in his office.
"Igor agreed to meet. First thing tomorrow morning. Neutral territory." He sits on the edge of the desk. "He sounded surprised we wanted to talk."
"Good. That means Artem hasn't approached him yet." I knew as much. "Artem is prideful. He thinks he's smarter than us, than Igor." I snort. "He's about to be proven wrong."
"Or he has and Igor's playing both sides." Saint's always suspicious, and it's served him well, but it's also made him unduly cautious. "We need to be careful."
"We will be." I stand. "But we need to move fast. Artem gave us a day. We need Igor on our side before then."
"What if he says no? What if he doesn't want our backing?"
"He will." I move to Saint. "He wants power. It's in his grasp. He's not going to back down and just hand it over to Artem."
"And if he's an idiot?"
"Then we go with Marcello's plan. Give Artem what he wants and minimize damage." I touch Saint's face. "But I don't think Igor's an idiot. I think he's been waiting for someone to back him. To give him the support he needs to claim what's his."
Saint kisses me. Hard. Desperate.
"I fucking love your brain."
Not I love you. But close.
Closer than before.
"Come to bed," he says. "We have a long day tomorrow."
"In a minute. I want to think through the approach. How we present this to Igor."
"Gemma—"
"Five minutes. I promise."
He studies me. Then nods. "Five minutes. Then I'm carrying you to bed."
He leaves.
I sit back down in his chair.
Pull out a piece of paper. Start writing.
Strategy. Approach. Contingencies.
Everything Bianca taught me. Everything I learned watching her manipulate men twice her size into doing exactly what she wanted.
I'm not my mother.
But maybe I'm her daughter after all.
And maybe that's not such a bad thing.