Chapter 25 #2
“War!” Sasha exclaims just as theatrically, fists lifted toward the ceiling, making her smile sadly. “But before all that, we drink.”
He places a glass of vodka in front of Katya, and my brothers raise theirs, accompanied by wellwishes and congratulations.
I copy their gestures, but Ekaterina does it with a small trace of reluctance.
I don’t like seeing her upset. That’s exactly why, after I take a sip, I pull her into my arms and press my lips to my wife’s ear.
“Now I really can kiss my bride,” I whisper, and her eyes search mine with a spark she can’t control, one that makes me feel the colors she used to tell me about when she played the piano.
This woman is the melody of my life.
I kiss her slowly, tasting her lips one by one. She doesn’t give me what I want, but she doesn’t reject me either. For now, it’s enough to mark this symbolic moment.
“Get a room,” my youngest brother chuckles, making my wife immediately pull away from my lips.
“Sorry,” she quickly says, turning cold again.
“You’re my wife. You don’t need to apologize, most of all in your house,” I say whit an unreadable face.
“I am also a person with respect for others, and because I possess those qualities, I will.”
“Not if you’re the wife of a Pakhan.”
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t care. They’re your brothers.”
I press my lips together at her argument and sigh. “Fine.”
Yaroslav clears his throat and puts his glass back on the table.
“Before you two start your honeymoon or wedding night, let’s get organized a little,” he begins, looking at me.
Then he turns to Katya.
“I understand you have questions. Until you’re clear on everything that happened, we’ll be talking for nothing, because you won’t understand a thing.”
She blinks a few times and exhales, rubbing her forehead.
“I don’t even know where to start... Artem told me Oliver is actually a mobster who planned everything involving me from two years ago, when we met.”
“That detail surprised us too,” he answers.
“No one knew the Prescott family had been trafficking weapons for several years. We found that out when Malcolm Prescott came forward with the idea of a partnership with the Bratva in the form of an engagement between you and his precious son. More precisely, six months ago.
Our question concerns that year when he courted you and acted as if he had no idea about your origins, even though he obviously knew who you were.”
“I never mentioned that my father was Vor, or that he had any connections with Bratva. I always said my father was a former businessman who had retired after my mother’s death, which, in fact, he had.”
“Someone with the right connections could have found out about him being Vor,” I tell her carefully, making her look at me with concern.
“And the Lord had those connections,” she confirms to herself.
“And not because he was a Lord, but because he had ties to mafia circles all over the world,” I continue.
“It means that, from the start, their plan was to create a partnership with Moscow and, exactly as in royal houses, nothing symbolizes such a union better than a marriage.”
“Exactly,” I confirm, fascinated by a strand of hair falling over her eyes, which I tuck behind her ear.
“But who were the people who tried to attack you that night?”
I tilt my head to one side and smile, while Sasha adds something to help her.
“Someone who tried to stop Artem from getting to your concert and remove him from the picture, preferably for good. Because he was the only one with enough power to stand between you and the wedding.”
Her face turns almost white as she looks at Sasha, then back at me.
The name is on the tip of her tongue, but she seems unable to believe it.
“Somehow, he found out about us,” I explain patiently. “I suspect we have a mole among the soldiers, which is why we’re staying here for now. In the meantime, we’re setting a trap for the traitor, and we’ll probably catch him in a few days.”
She slowly sinks onto the chair beside me, almost dizzy.
“Your former fiance is a very bad boy, Katya,” I say while stroking her fingers between my palms. “He is greedy and very manipulator. But also cold, as he confirmed to you at that dinner, when you hoped he would understand how you felt about the wedding.”
Her eyes widen. “How do you know what I talked about with him that night?”
I smile.
“There were microphones under the table. I knew you were going there. I even wanted to send you a rose, but Yar convinced me to sit back in the car and watch you from a distance.”
“You were there?!”
I press my lips together.
“Yes. I was barely stopping myself from coming to your table or running over the reporters Prescott had brought.”
Shaking her head, she sighs.
I wouldn’t be surprised if she drops dead from exhaustion in the next hour, overloaded by all this news, and she will probably sleep until tomorrow evening. Unfortunately for her, it’s our wedding night, and I intend to exhaust her in a different way.
“I realized he was behind them, even though he tried to lie to me.”
“He brought them because he needed to make a public statement to me, but also to his investors, that he still had control over you and over the partnership with Bratva. The bad news is that in this whole story, the Prescott family isn’t the only one involved.
There are families from Ireland and Albania too.”
“Different from the ones you have partnerships with?”
I nod.
“New players have appeared on the market. People who made a lot of money over the past few years. They have no history, but they got rich through cryptocurrency or stock trading. We call them ‘new rich,’ and we refused to associate with them because they lack something very important: honor.”
“But the Prescott family has history behind it...”
I interrupt her.
“Recently, we found out that Lord Prescott was on the verge of losing his title six years ago because of unpaid debts. But someone in Albania saved him from a disgraceful bankruptcy and proposed a shady partnership to him, about which we don’t know many details.”
“Unfortunately,” Yaroslav adds, “it seems we also have several people in the Russia who are part of this partnership, helping it grow.”
“And do you know who they are?”
Yar sighs. Sasha drinks from his glass.
“We know for sure who isn’t involved,” he answers thoughtfully. “Which means we can’t trust almost eighty percent of the people.”
“And what do they want?”
“Monopoly,” I answer. “Down with the old hierarchy and the policies of the Russian mafia.”
Ekaterina shakes her head, confused. “Then why did they still want this wedding?”
“To gain access to Russian merchandise and the connections we have, only to stab us in the back afterward.”
Yaroslav adds after me. “I suspect they will also want to attack the Italians, to impose a chaotic dictatorship there as well, one run without honor.”
“Maybe we should tell Tristan Romano,” Sasha chuckles, though his joke isn’t a good one.
“More than likely, the rumors will reach his ears without me bothering with him,” my older brother replies.
“I met his wife, Libertine,” Katya intervenes. “She has a beautiful design studio where I had a dress made for a recital in Rome few years ago. We liked each other from the start. We even exchanged phone numbers.”
All three of us look at her as if she has suddenly grown not a second head, but a queen’s crown... on a second head.
“And here we thought we’d have to go to the Italians with machine guns if we wanted to talk to them,” Sasha says, almost fascinated. “Turns out our girl has a direct line to the red phone straight to the Capo.”
“My girl,” I point out sharply, and my youngest brother raises his hands in surrender. “In any case, the Italians are not our concern. I couldn’t care less about their fate when our own situation is slightly complicated.”
“Slightly?” comes Yar’s ironic question, which I ignore because my mind is already drifting back to the woman beside me.
Like pressing a button, all problems disappear and the voices go quiet when I look at my wife.
Her lips are still swollen from earlier and, because I can’t resist, I pull her closer, lost in her azure eyes.
I can’t wait for these two bastards to leave so I can enjoy her the way I want, even if she’s still furious with me. I’ll make her forgive me eventually.