5. Adrik
ADRIK
O n the way to the Morovov firm, my phone buzzed.
Alexei: What the fuck are you doing?
My oldest cousin never missed a chance to challenge me. To question my choices. That was something that happened since we were children, before I was expected to take over. He wouldn’t dispute my being the interim leader. But he’d never hold back on making me rethink my decisions.
Alexei: Why didn’t you wait for anyone to come with you to handle this?
I rolled my eyes. Because as the Pakhan, I need to be able to move and pivot immediately as the leader. Obviously.
Adrik: The longer I wait to address this situation, the weaker we will look.
Three dots appeared instantly with his reply.
Alexei: Rushing off rashly will make you look like an impulsive leader.
Alexei: You should at least have waited for Maksim.
Alexei: He’s more of a direct contact point in this kind of a problem.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I drawled to myself.
Adrik: And he gave me his input.
Alexei: He’s going to give you more.
I narrowed my eyes. Lifting my face, I pressed the button for the partition to slide down in the car. “Is my brother in a car behind us?” I asked the driver.
“Yes, sir.”
I looked up at the sky and held back a litany of curses.
“Both Maksim and Alexei, sir,” he confirmed.
“Fuckers…” I muttered.
“Would you like me to tell the other driver to turn around?” he asked.
“Don’t bother,” I replied as I put the partition up again.
If I ordered the driver to take them back, they’d get in another car and drive themselves.
Adrik: I need to handle this immediately. To show anyone else that we’re not weak or to be messed with even now.
Alexei: Agreed. But you WILL look weak if you don’t rely on us too.
Alexei: I’m not stepping on your toes.
I typed quickly.
Adrik: You wouldn’t give a fuck about stepping on my toes.
Alexei: I wouldn’t.
I exhaled harshly through my nose.
Alexei: That doesn’t mean I won’t follow your orders. I will never hold back on calling you out on being stupid, though.
Alexei: And it’s stupid for you to go handle this on your own. If Uncle Dmitri were still fully in power, he’d bring backup. He’d go to see Morovov with Maksim.
I hated that he was right.
My father never turned down help from us. He would’ve brought Maksim and probably me and Alexei too. We were always stronger as a unified front.
I should know that.
I rubbed my brow, too stressed to berate myself for being too rash. The urgency remained, but I shouldn’t have been so closed-minded as to assume that I, alone, had to be the one to punish Morovov to avoid our seeming weak.
When we reached the firm, I exited the car and turned to face the other SUV that braked behind us. Alexei stepped out, his face gargoyle-like as ever. Maksim got out after him. He glanced at me, perhaps slightly concerned I’d be pissed that he’d come along after I’d told him no.
It wasn’t worth it. They weren’t insubordinate.
You’ll learn. You’ll figure out how to handle who does what and when to allow help.
Without a word, they joined me and we stalked inside the medium-sized, one-story office building.
Outdated features added to its ugliness, but inside, it looked adequate enough.
Office workers gawked at us from cubicles, and a pregnant secretary tried her best to smile and look professional.
“Hello, gentlemen. Do you have an appointment?”
I grunted, amused that this stupid woman would think that we needed one.
“They don’t need one,” John Morovov said, butting in as he jogged to the small receptionist area of the open floorplan. “Mr. Volkov.” He nodded at each of us, smiling like he was a gracious host and not a dead man walking. “It’s a pleasure to have you visit the firm.”
“You sure about that?” I asked wryly as I skewered him with a scathing glare.
His smile froze, but he didn’t break into a sweat. “Uh, this way, please, gentlemen.”
I shared a look with Alexei. Gentlemen ?
He was either delusional or fucked in the head if he could think we’d be anything close to gentle here.
After decades of working with his family’s financial firm, and his being all too aware that we weren’t a run-of-the-mill client, he was way off the mark with his assessment.
Or maybe he’s that fucking dumb to try to entertain himself with a joke.
We’d soon see who would be laughing.
“Let’s take this to my office,” he suggested.
Now, as he led us through the workspace, where employees ducked and tried not to ogle or stare, he lost some of his bravado.
A slight twinge of discomfort showing in the lines bracketing his eyes and mouth gave away his masked nervousness.
The red hint of embarrassment on his cheeks was a giveaway that he wasn’t calm about our arrival.
At the door to his office, the guards with us checked in.
They deferred to Alexei, and he nodded at them with a silent order to stand by.
It was a wise choice, because as we entered Morovov’s office, I scanned the furnishings and space for us to join him here.
Only two chairs faced his across a large desk that I bet his father and grandfather had.
A couple of ugly art reproductions were hung on the wall and the faint smell of vodka lingered in the air.
It was nondescript and otherwise bland, and I had a distinct impression that he was seldom here.
When a hardworking man often and consistently did his best, he left an imprint on his workspace.
For the sheer reason that he was there , it would look like a lived-in space.
I had realized that in moving into my father’s office, but I shoved aside the thought that my father had already run out of time to leave any more of his imprint anywhere.
I sat while Maksim took the other chair. Alexei stood between the two of us, his back straight and his face devoid of any emotion. Or patience.
“What the fuck is going on?”
I slid my gaze to Maksim after he commenced the meeting with that blunt question.
I supposed in other circumstances, I should’ve been the one to start talking, not him. And I supposed in any other circumstance, I would’ve led with a blunt and direct inquiry like that. Maksim and I were the same in that we had low interest in tolerating stupidity or diversions.
“Nothing that can’t be fixed,” John Morovov replied. He wasn’t as confident now. Maybe he felt cornered with the three of us in here, outnumbering him at his firm. I didn’t give a fuck.
“Fixed?” I shook my head slightly. “No. First you explain what happened with that transaction and why anything to do with our accounts would ever be labeled as having insufficient funds.”
The stodgy man swallowed.
“And then , I will determine if and how a remedy to this situation can be reached.”
In other words, prepare to pay, dumbass.
Prepare to beg for mercy.
You have no power here.
For the next ten minutes, John proved that he wanted to be a cunning, sly man who could trapeze his way out of a mistake.
His rambling explanation wasn’t one at all.
Instead, he talked too quickly, giving away how nervous he was.
He offered us circuitous analogies with big words and lofty catchphrases to make it seem like he was lecturing but was actually offering nothing but empty fluff.
Politicians campaigning for office pulled these stunts.
Conmen who wanted to appear ready to compromise played games like this.
I wasn’t amused.
I was quickly losing patience too.
Per my brother and cousin staring at him stoically and unconvinced like this, like I was, I knew they weren’t buying this line of bullshit either.
An expired time on an account? Some bogus code malfunction that changed fields in a spreadsheet?
Give me a fucking break.
He was talking out of his ass and not once did he come remotely close to admitting that his firm had fucked up.
I turned to look at Maksim, then Alexei. They both didn’t react, giving me the impression they were thinking the same thing.
Bullshit.
Morovov was talking out of his ass, scrambling to deny fault and to paint the picture that this little mistake wasn’t anything to blow out of proportion.
After letting him stew for a long moment as torture, I cleared my throat at last. “You fucked up.”
He opened and closed his mouth, but I held my hand up. “Do not insult me by suggesting otherwise. The Volkov Bratva has hired the services of Morovov Financials to manage banking services for many years.”
I was careful and deliberate in wording it. By not stating that I was in charge instead of my father, I generalized the fact that remained true.
“And, and, and we can continue that mutually lucrative arrangement,” he replied.
“Not receiving that shipment was not lucrative for us,” Maksim said, deadpan.
“Nor is the suggestion that our businesses would ever have insufficient funds,” I added.
John Morovov nodded like a bobblehead. He splayed his hands out. “I understand.”
“Do you?” I challenged.
“I… I do,” he stammered. “And I also wouldn’t try to insult you with the meager offer of an apology, as if that would erase the sting of this unfortunate mistake.”
“It’d be a fucking start,” Alexei growled.
John bobbed his head more. “I am sorry for the unintended and unfortunate ripples of this mistake. But I would like to not only offer an apology but amends.”
I huffed one dry bark of laughter. “Oh. You’re under the delusion that you can escape punishment for this mismanagement?”
He shook his head so jerkily that his jowls swayed. “No. No. You have every right to be displeased with my firm.”
“Displeased?” Maksim mocked.
John held his hands up. “I understand you’ve come with anger.”
I shook my head. “You’re not following. We are here to exact punishment.”
“But perhaps… instead, I could offer you a different payment to make up for this debt of a mistake?”
Narrowing my eyes, I studied him closely.
What the fuck are you plotting?
He’d been prepared.
“I propose giving you my daughter.”
I didn’t react. Maksim and Alexei refrained from budging too.
Curiosity flitted through me, and I arched one brow, a silent prompt for him to continue.
“I am willing to let you have my daughter, who actually is an accountant here.” He cleared his throat.
Are you throwing her under the bus to save your own ass?
Is there something wrong with her?
Or are you actually stupid enough to spring a trap and send a mole with us?
No matter the questions that sprang up, I couldn’t see a big enough reason not to take this offer.
I could still make an example out of this situation.
I could sell her. Kill her. Anything of the sort.
No matter what I did after this father surrendered his own flesh and blood, it would be leverage awarded back to me.
I could still show the world that I held power and that no mistake against my family would go unpunished.
“No, we will not?—”
I held up my hand, silencing Alexei. My stern glower had him sighing with an exhale, put out to be cut off like that.
“This is an insult,” Maksim said. He shook his head and faced me. “An insult. His daughter? No. Mr. Morovov, we are here to assist him in demanding blood.”
“I will,” I stated.
They both shot me dubious looks.
“I will demand blood.” I pinned Morovov with a harsh glare. “Yours and hers, perhaps.” Standing, my decision made, I dared the cunning liar to renege. “Bring her in.” I smoothed my hands down over my jacket as I embraced the triumph of my first major punishment delivered as the interim Pakhan.