Pregnant By Four Bratva Kings (Chicago Bratva Monsters #3)

Chapter 1 - Joseph

“Thank you, Bartel. You can tell them to go ahead,” I say, taking the scheduled worksheet from my floor manager.

He smiles and nods before he heads off to get the team moving.

Things have been running fantastically since I overthrew my father.

Paul Gregori was never liked by his employees.

Any obedience he had from them was out of fear and desperation to keep their jobs.

That doesn’t build a good work ethic or create any type of motivation for employees to take pride in their jobs.

It took a while to change the way they viewed working for a Gregori boss, but I’ve managed to gain loyalty from the majority of my workers.

And our profit in business has tripled.

It just goes to show that treating people with respect and giving them the recognition that they deserve goes a long way.

I walk the length of the warehouse floor, stopping to check in with various people, catching up, and getting updates. It’s important to be on the ground with them. To be part of the team, not just barking orders from above or handing down job sheets through other managers.

I’ve created a healthy, enjoyable work environment, but more importantly, I’ve created stability.

Stability that is tainted by a warning, constantly churning in the back of my mind like a snake that’s constricted itself around my thoughts.

Your father isn’t just going to let it slide, Joe. He will retaliate. And when he does, it’s going to be brutal.

Paul was never the type of man to accept defeat. Especially not when it involves his ego, and me overthrowing him and taking over the company, most certainly knocked his ego down a few notches.

He’ll be back.

And when he reappears, I’d better be ready for it.

“Did you need me for anything before I head out?” I call out to the men loading the truck for delivery later today.

“No, sir, we’re all good here,” one of them calls back.

I throw him a thumbs-up and turn to leave. From my back pocket, the vibrating tone of my phone grabs my attention.

A quick glance at the screen lets me know who’s calling.

“Viktor,” I answer, stepping out of the warehouse and into the midday sun. It’s like walking into a furnace, a solid wall of heat that separates the cooled air of the warehouse and the unforgiving summer outside.

“Joe, how are you keeping?” my brother-in-law asks. One of my brothers-in-law. My little sister, Leila, married four men. It shocked me at first. I was dead set against it. But she’s never been happier, and over time, I became close with all of them.

“It’s good this side. Apart from being assaulted by heat every time I leave a building,” I muse.

Viktor chuckles. “Tell me about it, I’ve tried to keep all my meetings in one place just so I don’t have to go outdoors.”

The car beeps as I unlock it and tug the door open. I start the engine right away to get the aircon flowing. Cold air blasts onto me, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

“How’s Leila?” I ask.

“She’s good. She wanted to find out if you were free for dinner next week?”

“Next week is a bit swamped. Can I call you on Friday after I’ve had a chance to look at my calendar? Today has been one of those days,” I say.

“Sure, man, of course. Any news from the old man?” he asks, talking about my father.

“Nothing,” I groan. “The silence is unnerving.”

“We’re here for you. You need anything, you shout. You know that, right?” Viktor says.

“I know. I appreciate it, man. Send my regards to Leila. I’ve got to run.”

“Have a good one. Jump in the pool when you get home. Or better yet, the lake.”

“I plan to!”

The radio automatically starts playing when the call ends, and I flick it off.

I like to think in silence. And I’ve got a lot to think about.

Sure, I could ask my brothers-in-law for support when it comes to tackling the issue with my father.

But the truth is, I feel it’s more important for me to establish my own power.

I need to build my own alliances and prove that I have this under control myself.

That’s why I’m on my way home early this afternoon.

I have three very important calls to make from the privacy of my home office. A call to each of the strongest Bratva leaders who were my father’s biggest rivals. Three men who each had their own reasons to hate my father and would probably savor the opportunity to ally with me against him.

I’ve done my homework on each of them. I’m confident I have developed the right approach in speaking with them.

Benedikt Ronkov, whom I’ve met on a number of occasions, should be the easiest man to get on board. He’s reasonable, levelheaded, and calm. From what I know about him, he’s a mediator of sorts. I imagine the call with him will go smoothly.

Kazimir Petrov will take a little more negotiation.

He’s less focused on politics and business, more of an adventurer, into the money and power for the carefree lifestyle they allow him.

He parties hard and rebels against pretty much any rule someone tries to impose on him.

When negotiating with him, I’ll have to play it cool and somehow make it sound less like work and more like a team game.

The last Bratva leader is going to be the most challenging. Artur Stevansko. On the rare occasion I’ve crossed his path, he’s always been elusive. Dark, brooding, cold, and temperamental, his sarcastic nature makes him hard to read. He’s opinionated and arrogant.

But I need him on the team. I need all three of them. So I’m going to have to find a way to make it work.

I’m hoping that on the call this afternoon, I can figure out what he wants and offer it. I just hope what he wants is doable. Men like him, angry and tainted from a dark past, often forego logic in lieu of standing up for some jaded, self-centered view.

My jaw is clenched, tugging at the muscles that run up the back of my neck to my skull. If I don’t get these calls over with soon, it’s going to give me a migraine thinking about them.

When I drive through the massive security gates of my mansion north of Montrose Beach, the guards nod politely and gesture that everything is going smoothly.

No sign of my father.

The short trip between the car and the mansion is another furnace that threatens to melt the skin off my body.

As soon as I’m inside and the door is shut behind me, I peel off my jacket and throw it over the back of a chair in the open-plan kitchen. Tugging open the fridge door, I stand in front of it, letting cold air waft over me while I roll up my sleeves and decide what I feel like drinking.

Homemade lemonade. The chef knows me well. Picking up the jug, I carry it to the counter and fetch a glass from the cabinet. The first glass I pour is gone in three seconds. The second glass I’ll savor.

Up in my office, overlooking the back garden and my swimming pool, I set my drink on a coaster and sit down at my desk.

I take one deep breath and clear my mind before I dial Benedikt.

“Who is this?” he asks politely when he answers.

“Benedikt, it’s Joseph Gregori. I was wondering if you had a moment to talk?”

“I do, just give me a second, and I’ll step into my office for some privacy.”

As predicted, Benedikt is a reasonable and friendly man who is eager to join an alliance against my father. He immediately sees the mutual benefit of the offer and accepts it.

Kazimir Petrov was more challenging, but ended the negotiation with “Oh, fuck it, what have I got to lose, let’s do it.”

Two down, one to go.

Dialing Artur, my tension is higher, and I can feel the muscles over my shoulders are tight.

“Joseph Gregori, now why would you be calling me?” he answers.

“Artur, I was hoping we could speak,” I say.

“Well, curiosity drives me to say yes. But make it quick, I’m a busy man.”

I sneer, agitated by his rudeness.

“I’ll get straight to the point, then. This is connected to my father and our mutual dislike of the man,” I say. “I’ve just gotten off the line with Kazimir and Benedikt, and they’ve agreed to the offer I’m about to make you,” I explain.

“You called me last, how telling. Either I’m your least favorite, or you saved the best for last,” he huffs.

I ignore him.

“I would like to offer you an equal alliance. Four of the strongest Bratva leaders in Chicago, working together for the purpose of ensuring Paul Gregori does not resurface or regain power of any sort.”

He scoffs. “You want me to join your alliance because you have daddy issues?”

I press my lips tighter to stop myself from sighing in annoyance.

“I want you to join an alliance against a man I’m fully aware you have past issues with, and to build your own status and strength within Chicago. Once word gets out that the four of us are working together, no one would dare go against us.”

He lets out a sigh as though he’s bored with this conversation.

“Listen, Joe, can I call you Joe? I’ve got things to do, and you’re taking up my time with this…this mediocre bull. I’ll think about it. But I hardly think I need any of you to increase my own power in Chicago,” he states blandly.

The man is jaded. No one is untouchable. Everyone needs an alliance.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I force myself not to snap back at him about how his ego is getting in his own way.

“You take your time, Artur. Think it over. I’m sure once you’ve done so, you’ll realize the value in my offer. Sometimes it just takes people a moment to process,” I say, unable to hold back my own little snarky remark.

He huffs. “Enjoy your afternoon, Gregori,” he snaps, making a point of reminding me that I am my father’s son. Before I can say goodbye, he’s already hung up.

Two out of three. It’s not bad. But it’s not good enough.

Frustrated, I decide I need to stop thinking about it for the rest of the day and try talking to Artur again tomorrow. He has to see the obvious benefits. He can’t be that naive.

To my surprise, I don’t have to wait until the next day.

Around eleven at night, just as I’m getting out of the shower, my phone rings with Artur’s name across the screen. I watch it for three full beats before I answer, not wanting to give him the impression that I was desperately waiting for him to get back to me.

“Yes?” I answer coolly. I have to play Artur’s game. An air of nonchalance goes down well.

“I have a condition,” he states.

“What would that be?” I ask, pacing my bedroom with a towel sitting low on my hips and water running over my body.

“Marriage.”

“What now?” I say, caught completely off guard. Of all the things I expected him to ask for, this wasn’t even on the list.

“Marriage, to lock the alliance in place. I know what your sister did: marry four Bratva leaders. I know how well it worked for them and that their power quadrupled since they made that move. I will join your alliance under the condition that we do the same.”

“Artur, that takes planning and…”

“I already have the girl. Everything can move forward swiftly. All you need to do is say yes.”

I scrunch my nose, pressing my fingers against my closed eyes. “Marriage,” I sigh. This is not what I want. Not under any circumstances. “There has to be another way.”

“There is no other way. If you’re not interested, I’ll say goodbye now and…”

“Wait,” I blurt out.

He’s pushed me into a corner. I hate being pushed into a corner, but in this instance, I need the alliance. I need this to work.

“Fine. Marriage. I’ll speak to the other guys and find out if they agree.”

My stomach knots. I don’t like this. But what difference does it make? It’s just a piece of paper.

Thirty minutes later, Benedikt and Kazimir have both reluctantly agreed to Artur’s condition. They both hold the same sentiment I do. It’s just a piece of paper. And just like that, we are all suddenly preparing to get married.