2. Artem #2
Max is the youngest, and I feel like he’s just a little brat.
I’ve spent my whole life cleaning up after him, and we’ve all had to be on the receiving end of a ‘Max tantrum.’ He’s so playful and happy-go-lucky that sometimes I forget the demented ways that I would find the bodies of the men father had sent him to kill.
The sick little shit loves to make a mess.
I still remember when I saw him that night years ago, doing some very questionable and definitely illegal things to a willing little brunette, it was almost out of a horror scene.
He’s always looked the part anyway; covered in too many tattoos and piercings to count, obsessed with the twisted and dark since he was young.
“Parni, sledite za svoim yebanym yazykom.” my father’s dominating voice suddenly booms from behind us, and we all turn to face him.
“Sorry, Father,” I offer, but he stares me down and Max snickers at me being reprimanded.
“My office, now.”
I follow him out of the kitchen, into his office upstairs and shut the door.
“Artem, how was the event?” he asks with his hands connected on the desk.
I’m being watched now more than ever—I have been the one to pick up his slack while he goes back and forth from here to Russia to visit our mother, and he’s yet to officially name me as his predecessor. In fact, he usually avoids the conversation at all costs.
“Fine. The only notable thing was the Santoro Head stepping down for his son to take over.” A flashback to Giselle’s tear-stained face flashes in my mind as the words tumble out.
“Ah, good. Marcos beat me to it then.”
I look at him, wondering what the look on his face could be.
“Look, Artem, I know I have not discussed it much with you, but that’s because I know that you know I want you to take over for me. Maxim is not even an option and Roman will just be your backup.”
I furrow my brows. It isn’t like I didn’t already know this, but I can’t understand why he’s saying it now.
“I’m getting old, and your mother still refuses to move back here. She prefers being home where she feels safe, and I can’t keep going back and forth. I plan to move back to be with her, that way you can start taking over effective immediately.”
The fuck?
“That’s it? You’re telling me this days before you ship off to move back to Russia?”
I feel betrayed that he didn’t even include us in his plans, but my father has always been selfish.
“I know this seems last minute, but I have done a lot in preparation the last few weeks, including making sure that everything will be prepared for you to continue seamlessly where I left off, and even better off than I had been.”
I cock an eyebrow.
“Better than you had been? What do you mean by that?”
“Well, Artem, I have an offer to lay on the table for you, and if you wish to be pakhan I will simply hand it to you as long as you agree. If you do not agree, I’ll offer the same deal to Roman. Do you understand?”
My mouth goes dry at his threat. I nod, waiting for his explanation.
“I did not wish to simply go back to Russia and hand my messes over to my sons to handle. I wanted to clean them up for you, so I did. I’ve made amends with the Santoro family so that this family can grow—no more silly feud ruining possible business.”
My eyes narrow momentarily as he continues.
“And, as a show of good faith, Marcos and I have decided that you’ll marry his daughter. This way he’s no longer worried about his daughter’s future, and now I will know at least one of my sons is married before I leave and will continue the family line.”
My blood runs cold. I can feel my heart sink when he tells me I would have to fucking marry her.
Of all people, why her?
Why her when all I have been trying to do for years is keep her the fuck away from me and the bratva?
“His daughter?” I ask, in utter and absolute fucking disbelief, hoping he will say this is some sort of sick joke.
“Did I speak in an ancient tongue?”
My head shakes as I clench my fists. “No.”
“Good, then you understand.”
My leg bounces at a pace I didn’t even know was possible.
I hesitate, but nod my head, not able to look him in the eye.
“Then, congratulations, pakhan.” He stands from his seat and I rise with him, he shakes my hand and leaves the office.
I stand there, motionless and unblinking as I process what he’s just told me.
This must be a cruel fucking joke from the universe; my punishment for what happened to Sara.
There’s no way I can refuse my father’s demand. Losing pakhan and disappointing my father are two things that I will never allow to happen. The third was supposed to be not letting what happened to Sara happen again.
And now I know that it fucking will.
I storm off to my room, and when I walk in everything comes crashing down on me at once.
“Artem, please, you can tell me anything, I told you nothing is too much for me. I’m ready for this, everything.” She playfully pulls and pushes my hand, her cute smile forcing one from my lips. “I want to be in your life, your world, I want to be your everything.”
This can’t be happening again.
“What the hell are you crying for, Artem?” My father’s cold expression cuts through me like a blade. He sees her body as he steps closer, not even giving her a second glance. “Get up, do you think the son of a pakhan can spare tears?”
The room spins as I bring my fists to my ears, forcing my eyes shut.
“If you come, you have to stay where I can see you,” I say with a grin, giving in to her too easily. I love how she embraces me and the messed-up world I was born into, I love—
“You fucking idiot!” My fist finds the wall, my knuckles twitching from the painful impact as I let them bleed. I won’t make the same mistakes again.
The next morning, I have a late start. My head pounds from the lack of sleep and heavy drinking as I make my way downstairs to grab a cup of coffee.
“Oh look, our brand new pakhan emerges for breakfast at last!” Max teases as he cooks bacon on the pan.
“Shut the fuck up.” I sit down at the island, reaching for a mug.
He and Roman exchange a glance. “Jeez bro, you know you’ll get wrinkles by scowling like that. What would your fiancée say?”
His laughter rings in my head as I slam my fist on the counter, making both of them look up at me.
“Do you think this is a fucking joke, Maxim? Is this funny to you?” I step up to where Max is cooking and Roman quickly goes between us and puts his hand on my chest.
“Okay, okay, take a deep breath,” he assures in a calm voice. He glances at us both as I run my hand through my hair and turn to walk a few steps away, trying to collect myself.
“I know you guys hate each other, but you’re taking this worse than I expected. I mean you only have to pretend to be cordial in public.”
Roman foolishly thinks the reason for my rage is that I have to simply interact with her more.
“I don’t fucking want to be seen with her in public.”
Max furrows his brows, “Why? I mean she’s a little batshit, but otherwise she’s hot, and she’s smart. Plus, she’s technically like a goddamn mafia princess. It only makes sense she would marry up the ladder; you’re probably both better off this way.”
I sigh deeply as I shake my head, my tongue darting over my bottom lip.
“Better off? Motherfucker, do you think she’s better off leaving her safe little bubble and into our life?”
Max contorts his face. “Since when do you care so much about her safety? Plus, it isn’t like her family is full of saints anyway.”
“No, but at least where she’s at, they give a fuck about protecting women and children. They have higher moral grounds than—”
“Than who? Russians? You sound fucking crazy, Artem. We’re all in the crime world, nationality doesn’t change shit.”
Roman finally chimes in with his voice of reason. “Well cultures do differ, she’s surely been more sheltered than a woman that’s close to the bratva would have been.”
None of us speak for a moment, as we all remember the reason my mother left to go back to Russia and won’t come back.
It isn’t an easy life to be married to a pakhan.
Which is exactly why my plan has always been to marry Lyra, Andrei Ivanov’s daughter one day.
She’s already the daughter of a bratva man, and though I care for her safety as a family friend I grew up around, she would not be able to be used against me as I’d sacrifice her without a hesitation.
Having a woman you want to keep alive by your side is the greatest curse you can have, and somehow I’m being cursed again.