Chapter 5 Oleg
Oleg
Budapest, Hungary
The Báthory Summit, so often an inconvenient obligation, was this year a welcome distraction for Oleg. His plans with Ivan were progressing well, and Ludmila and Oksana reported that grumbles of dissatisfaction were growing louder within his brother’s organization.
But this was an international conference.
Oleg would have the opportunity to mark Ivan as irrelevant on an international stage, and he was looking forward to it.
The vampire lord of the Kievan Rus had spent the past five years living rather quietly. His reputation for brutality and womanizing had taken a hit after his secret marriage, and the immortal world had no idea why he’d cut back on his romantic or territorial conquests.
There were rumors that he was mourning his daughter’s death because of Zara’s connection to his dead mate, Luana. Which was entirely false.
There were rumors that he was secretly planning a conquest in North America, which was… not entirely false.
There were rumors that he was involved in a torrid affair with Alina Machabeli, the vampire ruler of Georgia, and he’d done nothing to quell those rumors to anyone but his wife. He was fairly certain that Alina had started them, and Oleg was curious about her intentions.
Showing up at a grand event like the Báthory Summit was an opportunity for vampire theater, immortal drama, and general mess. And since all this played into Oleg’s plan to bury Ivan, he was more than happy to attend.
So while he didn’t particularly look forward to the long speeches and the business meetings, he was looking forward to—as the humans would say—making Ivan his bitch in public.
Mika stood in the foyer of the house they had rented for the occasion. “It’s good.”
“Good?” He scanned the grand villa they had rented in the Buda Hills. “This mansion is an excellent example of neoclassical architecture with art nouveau murals inside.” Oleg was in a grand mood. “It’s delightful. Petr!” He held out his hand and snapped.
“Yes, my lord.” A young man scurried to his side.
“Find a digital camera and take pictures of the murals in the house.”
“All of them?”
“Yes, all.” He was contemplating a mosaic in the art nouveau style, and these murals could be good reference photographs.
“Of course.” Petr ran off when a car honked outside.
His new secretary was a city boy from Kyiv who had been raised by experienced day people and then quickly found favor with Oleg in the past three years. It would be the first time the young man was attending a vampire event of this scale, which meant he was very eager.
Which was good. Oleg hated carrying things.
“The perimeter is too dense,” Mika grumbled. “Too many trees and bushes. Do you think they would let us cut down some of those cypress trees?”
“No. You worry too much.” Oleg slapped Mika on the shoulder. “Besides, it has already been adjusted for vampire use by Wallace, so you know the security will be top-notch.”
“Yes, and they’re probably spying on us.”
“Probably.” Oleg looked at a random corner. “If you are, Gavin, hello and please give my regards to your lovely wife.” He bowed slightly, then started walking up the stairs. “Do an electronics sweep while Petr gets me ready for the reception at Báthory House.”
Mika muttered, “Why are you in such a good mood?”
Oleg smiled, turned on the first landing, and snapped his fingers, bringing a bright red flame to his palm. “What do I have to complain about, old friend? I am rich. I am powerful. And I fed well at sunset.”
“So all I need to do to turn you into a more pleasant asshole is feed you?” Mika nodded. “Good to know.”
Oleg closed his fingers around the flame to extinguish it. “You need to get laid, Mika. Isn’t that always your advice to me?”
Mika turned and flipped Oleg off before he motioned for one of his own minions to approach.
Oleg left them to their own devices as he pulled out the phone that only his wife had the number to.
Arrived in Budapest. This house is beautiful. Wonderful murals.
Her reply came only moments later.
I’m glad. Send pictures of the murals.
Petr is taking some right now.
Oleg had to confess that while he did not enjoy most technology, he did enjoy having direct access to his wife in his pocket at all times.
It wasn’t everything he wanted, but for the moment it would suffice.
The first reception of the summit, hosted by the leaders of the Báthory family, was always at their family home in the Castle District. The nineteenth-century palace was not the ancestral home of the Báthorys, but it had been the home of the summit since its inception in the early 1800s.
Oleg, like most of the attendees, was clad in traditional garments. His, representing the Kievan Rus, consisted of a pair of loose woolen pants tucked into high leather boots, a collared black shirt with gold embroidery, and a blood-red velvet kaftan that fell to his mid-thigh, trimmed in ermine.
It was hot as hell when he wore it inside, but heat didn’t bother Oleg.
The handmade garments were designed to draw the eye, and they did. Within moments of being announced, Oleg was approached by a member of the Austrian court—a charming woman with blood ties to his late mate—and the leader of a Central Asian business conglomerate he recognized from the last summit.
“Ladies.” He inclined his head to both women. “Greetings to your courts.”
“Greetings to yours.” The Austrian woman took his arm. She was a water vampire, as Luana had been. “Oleg, it has been too long since you have attended the festivities here in Budapest.” She leaned into him, and Oleg could feel the delicate hint of her amnis when she touched his hand.
It was a flirtatious gesture. Perhaps a little too familiar, but one she would be able to laugh off if he didn’t reciprocate.
Karoline was the favorite daughter of the vampire prince of Austria, and while she enjoyed playing the spoiled, rich water vampire, she was a dangerous woman if crossed. More than one of her former lovers had mysteriously disappeared after she was done with them.
“Didn’t you see him last time, Karoline?” The wind vampire from Samarkand kept a slight distance, which was customary for her clan. “Two years has flown by, Lord Oleg.”
He inclined his head, though he was fine keeping Karoline’s arm linked with his. “Takhmina Rasulova, it has been too long.”
The wind vampire was heiress to an immortal fortune that rivaled Oleg’s, her sire and grandsire holding control of the most profitable gold mines in Central Asia. Through their shell companies, they quietly extracted more precious metal than the majority of human companies combined.
“Karoline” —Oleg turned to the Austrian princess— “I must beg your forgiveness. I did attend the last conference, but I am afraid I was only able to fly in for a few business meetings.”
She pouted. “How boring.”
It hadn’t been boring at all. While the rest of the immortal world had been distracted, he’d stolen Tatyana away for a week on his yacht as soon as the conference was over.
“Not a week of parties, but my few days were productive.” He turned his attention back to the heiress. “Shall I expect you at our meeting on Tuesday, Takhmina?”
She smiled demurely. “I would not let anyone else from our family attend if I did not. Production in Muruntau has increased in the past two years, and we have much to discuss.”
“Excellent. I have to say, you are looking well.”
Takhmina scanned Oleg thoroughly, from his shining black boots to the short beard he wore. “And you are looking exceptional.”
Karoline purred, “Playing with fire, Mina?”
Takhmina cut her eyes to the blond vampire hanging on his arm. “I rarely play, but when I do, you can be sure I win.”
Oleg plucked Karoline’s hand from his arm and placed a kiss on her knuckles before he offered another nod to Takhmina. “Ladies, I see my boyar calling for my attention.” He turned on the charm. “Do I have your kind permission to abandon you for now?”
“If you must.” Karoline’s mouth seemed to have settled into a permanent pout. “But you’re going to the parties this year, aren’t you?”
He winked at her. “I will try not to miss a single one.”
Oleg swiftly left the two deadly women at the edge of the reception room and followed Mika’s scent.
In the tumult of so many immortals pressed together, his blood was buzzing. He scanned the crowd, looking for the source of the energy, but there were too many vampires, too much amnis, all in the same room. Still, there was something oddly familiar about—
“Oleg.”
He turned and saw his brother Pavel walking toward him. “Ah.”
That must have been what he was feeling. Oleg had known his older brother was attending the summit, but he was surprised to see Pavel at the reception.
They greeted each other as was customary among Truvor’s sons, with a bow at exactly forty-five degrees on either side, then angled away from each other so they could survey the room.
“I didn’t realize you were already here. You came to a party.” Oleg clapped Pavel on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you.”
The two vampires were dressed in similar clothing, though Pavel’s kaftan was a deep blue instead of red, and he wore long woolen slacks and dress shoes instead of boots.
“My social secretary arranged it.” Pavel looked down. “And these clothes.”
“You look good.” Oleg slapped his cheek lightly. “Very handsome.”
“Yes, Lidik told me I need to stop avoiding social events if I want to encourage more Western investment.” Pavel looked around the room with clear irritation. “Apparently these types of social engagements lead to more favorable contract terms.”
“Yes, all people—human or vampire—prefer to do business with people they like instead of people they do not know.”
“Humph.” Pavel seemed mostly irritated by this bit of information. “At least there is no dancing at this one.”
“That is the final party.” Oleg cocked his head. “Are you going to dance?”
“I have attended all the necessary lessons. And my social secretary confirms my abilities are adequate.”