Chapter Two
Viktor’s POV.
Sometimes I forgot what fresh air felt like in Manhattan.
Other times, I remembered after I'd taken a short stroll: the sweet and sour mustiness that suspended in the atmosphere—somewhat chilling and not comfortable in the least. But tonight, I sensed an oddity while I paced to and fro in my home office.
I lit my Cuban cigar right before I took a quick glance at some of the people around me. About five of my men were present, standing at the far end of the room. I heard the shambles of shoes which followed a noisy tap that seemed as though someone was walking up the stairs.
Nonetheless, I walked over to the balcony and took a quick look around the estate. The labyrinth of shrubs was the first thing that caught my attention. I removed the cigar from my mouth and took a deep breath. The balcony evoked lots of memories that I thought I'd forgotten.
One of the most terrifying ones was watching my papa point a shotgun at Uncle Alberto’s head.
I froze for a minute when I saw it. Papa's eyes burned in reddish fury that I had never seen before.
“Please, brother. Don't do this. For the sake of the Bratva family, for the sake of our future, for the sake of your sweet Viktor, brother,” Uncle Alberto pleaded.
His eyes were a reservoir of tears that didn't fall.
Papa didn't flinch a muscle. Instead, he turned and saw me standing behind him with my eyes wide open. I was confused; the closest I had come to seeing a gun being shot was in a scene in Tom and Jerry. I was eight or nine.
“Look, Viktor,” Papa said while he stressed the R in his thick Russian accent, right before he turned his face to look at my dear uncle, who was finding it hard to breathe in his suit. “Today, you become a man, my boy. This is what we do to all those who betray the Bratva family.”
“Please, brother. On my life, I swear, I didn't mean to betray you. I was trying to protect you.”
Papa racked the gun and placed his index finger on the trigger. Uncle Alberto’s face was full of sweat, yet he stood composed, as though he had a sense of hope that he wouldn't die.
The first shot went straight through his forehead.
He fell flat on the floor, lifeless, and my body jerked at the sound.
I remember thinking how this was way different from what I watched in cartoons.
The second shot went straight through Uncle’s chest, and the flowing blood thickened around his head and torso.
“Clean the pig’s body. You can either bury him or feed him to the dogs.”
There were only three men around Papa, and I stood in awe. He walked towards me and gave my hair a light brush.
“Listen, Viktor, once you notice a slight change in action from any of your friends or one of our men, take action. If you're not the first to pull the trigger, you might just end up dead.”
That was the only thing Papa told me before the men carried Uncle's body away from the balcony.
I wondered what uncle did till this day.
Although I remembered how, in that moment, I feared my papa, and I vowed not to get on his bad side.
It was a shame for Papa to die the way he did.
No matter how much I drew inspiration from him and utilized his infinite wisdom, it was never enough.
The weight of being the absolute leader of the Bratva changed shapes often; I had to learn a lot on the job.
“Boss, he’s on his way,” Lyon informed, standing a few feet behind me, breaking me out of my thoughts.
At this point in time, my only hope was for Senator Romano's compliance.
I'd imagined how brutally I was going to torture him if I didn't get a good response.
A bullet to the head would be an act of mercy.
Maybe if I fed him to the dogs or burnt him alive, it might not be as painful I expect it to be.
But his death was of no value to me. Killing was only a last resort verdict for debtors.
Maybe, just maybe, I’d let my boys strap him to a chair in the cold room, then I'd cut him piece by piece.
Day after day, I'd pour some salt on his wounds, and once they started to heal, I'd cut another part of his body and continue the process.
Maybe I could start from his dick, so he wouldn't be able to fuck anybody the way he's been fucking with me like some type of whore.
The good thing was that suitable collateral has been spotted.
Anyone who dares to mess with my money messes with me, and Senator Romano did just that.
He'd been in debt for a long time, and his loan was long overdue.
Romano was the real piece of shit, and thinking about it heightened my aggression even more.
“Fucking Romano,” I hissed out while I took a long drag of my cigar.
The loud footsteps now slowed and seemed close.
I turned to see Dimitri, my right-hand man, walk stiffly towards me in his black leather coat.
It was obvious that his tailor made his coats tight so they could reveal how muscular he was.
“Tell me you have good news,” I uttered.
“None, boss. It went out as I predicted. Senator Romano sent one of his advisors to represent him in the meeting.”
“Did the advisor come with something positive?”
“No. He said Romano begs for more time. Three more months. Stupid Romano thinks this is a game.”
I sighed while I flicked the ash off my cigar.
If Senator Romano thinks this is a game, then let the games begin.
Once more, his cowardice saved him from months of intended torture, but never again.
I'll make sure that when I'm done, he won’t be able to speak to anyone about his regret.
It was the worst news I’d had today, and only God knew how much my body itched for his blood. My breath felt hot, my pulse rose while I clenched my jaw and tightened my fist.
“Do you have a lead on where he is?” I asked Dmitri, and he shook his head.
“No,” he answered, his expression grim.
“And the collateral?”
“I made sure that our boys did a good job. She was ambushed on her way to college.”
“Ambushed? Didn't she have security with her?” I asked, surprised at the information, as well as impressed at how smoothly the operation went.
“Thankfully, no,” he disclosed. “She's currently outside. The boys are bringing her in as we speak, but we'll have to go downstairs,” he uttered with a half smile which raised the right side of his cheek.
His face went back to normal after he noticed my silence.
“We sent a note to his house. I'm positive that one of the workers will get it across to him.”
I took a drag off my cigar, ran my hand through my hair right before I placed my hands on the metal rails. Having Romano pay the full price was the plan, but his daughter? Of what use was she to me? Crazy Romano was dumb enough to let his daughter walk without security.
The next dumb thing he'd do would be to delay bailing her out.
“Would you like to see her?” Dimitri asked beside me.
“Yes,” I said, removing the cigar from my mouth. “And what do you suggest we do with her?”
“Anything you want us to do with her. Just say the word, and it will be done.”
“I know I can do anything I want with her. I'm asking what you suggest we do with her.”
Dimitri reached for the cigar in his chest pocket and took out a lighter on the other side of his suit. While smoking helped many people relax, it helped Dimitri focus.
I watched him take a quick drag before he turned to look at me.
“Romano should know that he's messing with the wrong men.
So I suggest that we keep her as our hostage for a while, pending when he would comply.
If he doesn't, we can send him her left ear as a gift, or her thumb, or perhaps her left arm.
If that doesn't move him at all, then I say we kill her, dump her fucking body on his front porch, and kill him at the first chance we get.”
I nodded at this response because it seemed like a good plan, although the only person I wanted to see bleed was Romano, and he was definitely pushing my buttons.
I found myself asking, ‘What would Papa do if Romano messed with him?’
We wouldn't be kidnapping his daughter, that's for sure.
We'd be kidnapping ugly ass Romano and making him bleed to death.
His death would give us more leverage to forge documents and sell all his properties until we'd recovered three times what he owed.
But Dimitri's plan seemed to be an idea I was willing to work with.
At first, I heard what seemed to be the opening of the door, and then the unsettled cacophony followed. The voice of a woman echoed throughout the whole house, and I was curious to see her.
As we descended the stairs, I took in her swollen eyes and fragile yet lovely face.
“That's her,” Dimitri revealed.
What I hadn’t expected was a pale-skinned girl with doe-brown eyes glaring up at me instead of shedding terrified tears.
Her beauty struck me immediately, but not in the way I would have expected of a politician’s only daughter.
She was beautiful in a girl-next-door kind of way; there was something cozy about her, which was funny, considering her petite form.
I chewed on the filter of my cigar before I took a quick inhale.
Her hands were held behind her back with handcuffs, but the slight redness around her jaw told me they had gagged her when they seized her.
“I don't know who sent you to get me, but I'm definitely the wrong person. So, let me go or else the cops will come find you,” she spat.
The shrillness of her tone told me her normal voice wasn’t usually that loud or strong. But that was not the only thing I noticed. I also noticed the uncertainty that danced beneath her voice.
She wasn’t as fearless as she acted.
“The cops? What cops?” I asked, and she stood silent, craning her neck to look at me.
She wasn't as tall as I would have expected.
I knew she'd reach my shoulder before I stood close to her.
Her wavy chestnut hair fell down her waist, adding another layer of youthfulness and innocence to her appearance.
She was dressed like an ordinary student—a plain T-shirt, blue jeans, and Chelsea boots, which I suspected was the most expensive thing on her—another surprise.
“I don't know who the fuck you guys are or why the hell y’all decided to kidnap me, but I swear you're going to pay dearly for this!” she went on, her eyes blazing.
I didn't mind that she spoke carelessly. She obviously had no idea of where she was. But something about her bravado made me want to shock her enough to see what lay underneath.
“You’re in the Bratva’s headquarters, the Manhattan stronghold,” I said calmly.
“Who are you?” she inquired, her tone rising.
Instead of responding immediately, I took two steps forward until I was standing right in front of her. I expected her to attempt taking a step back—again, she didn’t.
I noticed the hitch in her breath as I tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and ran my fingers down her cheeks.
“Impressive,” I said to myself, stunned by her courage amidst the fear that made her pulse quicken.
“To answer your question,” I began, my eyes on hers, “My name is Viktor. Viktor Lobanov. The Pakhan of the Russian Bratva here in New York.”
Silence ensued for a short while as I watched a slight frown form on her delicate face.
“Don’t fear, my dear. You might be in the wrong place, but you're definitely not the wrong person. You no longer belong to your father. You belong to me now,” I told her.
She stifled a laugh right before she chuckled in a not-so-startled way.
“Forgive me, but that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Last time I checked, I was not anyone’s property, and we aren't related. So I'm saying this again with a little more dignity than before, let me go the fuck home, and spare yourself the trouble of having to answer to the law.”
Her actions surprised me, and I knew that this was a bad sign. She stood unblinking, and my eyes trailed down her chest, right to the curves that the shirt couldn’t conceal.
“Uncuff her,” I said, watching her sigh in relief.
She turned to face the guard, who gently unlocked the cuffs.
And while she turned back, I expected she'd say a thank you.
Instead, she pushed me and tried to run.
Unfortunately for her, my hand gripped tight on her arm, and I pulled her close until we were only inches apart.
Her breath scattered across my face, and I knew she resented me, but all the while, I found her to be one of the most interesting women I'd ever come across.
“Why can't you let me go? What did I do to you?”
“It's not what you did. It's what your father did.” I said in a low tone. “He borrowed millions of dollars from us, which he has refused to pay back. And although we've confronted him, he chose to show us how much of a coward he is. He’s left me with no other choice, you see.”
“So what do you intend on doing with me?” She asked with a cracked tone that seemed as though she'd burst out in tears at any moment.
“Will it please you to kill me for the crimes of my father, even though I'm innocent?
Does it make sense to you that I'll be wrongfully punished for a crime I didn't commit?”
The way she looked at me while she stood in plea for her life was the very thing that charmed me.
She possessed the aura I needed, and I knew in that moment that I couldn't let her be my hostage anymore.
Her fierce nature proved to me that she could rule without breaking a sweat, unafraid of anything in the world, not even in my grand hall filled with all my most feared councilmen who awaited my order so they could inflict untold amounts of pain on her.
I sighed.
“Fair point,” I uttered in retort and turned to see the hopeful gaze of every one of my council members.
I gave her a very long look, and I felt cold.
Of course, she would be able to do every bit of my bidding.
A woman with curves like an hourglass, and the beauty of a full moon.
I knew I wanted her, yet I hid my intentions with silence.
“From this moment on, I declare that no finger be laid upon her. She'll be neither sold nor kept hostage. Instead, I'm going to marry her.”
Lyon looked at me with utter surprise. Dimitri, on the other hand, was more stunned than ever, and I could tellthis disturbed him because he walked towards me.
“This is far from the idea, boss,” he said. “Marrying the collateral only blurs the line. It's dangerous, and you're putting the entire Bratva family at risk.”
“This isn't just about debts and collateral, Dimitri. There's no better way to deal with Romano than to possess all that he already has. I'm always willing to take my chances, and this time, I'm taking possession of his daughter. It's just the beginning of the many things I intend to do.”
“I would rather die than marry you,” she grated.
I turned back to look at her, and our eyes clashed like before.
“Then you die as my wife.”
Silence ensued for a while, and it was clear as day that no one had a thing to say, not even my wife-to-be. The shock I once spotted on their faces turned to certainty.
“Take her to her room,” I ordered, and immediately, they walked her up the stairs.