Chapter 4
Dominic
The gaudy office overflows with extravagant items that clash hideously. Viktor Sokolov has no taste. It looks as though he bought every expensive thing he could find and threw them in here with no care of cohesion.
There’s a metal desk sitting on an ornate rug that insult each other. The rest of the room is just as unmatching.
The whole house looks this way. I recognize some of it from our rescue mission for my sister-in-law a few years back, but at the time, I wasn’t focused on the décor.
Viktor stands when I enter, welcoming me into the room.
“Viktor, thank you for having me. I’m here to offer an alliance,” I shake his hand, then sit. I don’t waste time on mindless conversation. Neither of us are men that enjoy pleasantries in subtlety and introductions.
“We had an alliance. Your brother destroyed it, desecrated my men, and reveled in it.” He sneers and rubs his beard in aggravation.
“Again, I apologize for his actions. They were made out of desperation. His woman was gone.” I don’t understand it. I can’t comprehend how one woman can bring a man to such insanity. How he can lose all sense when she’s gone.
“From what I understand, she left of her own volition.” He snorts at the irony of the situation.
“It was a miscommunication.” My voice remains even as his obstinance drives me to anger.
“One that my family paid for,” he shoots at me.
I rub a hand down my face. We aren’t making any progress. I need him to hear me out, but I’m starting to think he has no intentions of doing so.
“Again, I have come to apologize and offer a truce in the form of an alliance,” I say in a patient voice, despite the urge to strangle him.
Roman’s the hothead of the family or at least was before his wife calmed him down and made him start meditating.
It’s a bullshit thing to see. I’m the calm, cool, collected one.
I don’t show any emotions, but Viktor is testing my patience at the moment.
“What makes you think we are interested in a truce after what you’ve done?” His eyes are sharp as he throws it at me.
As much as I want to, I don’t mention what his men did to my family. How they destroyed my brother’s wedding and almost killed another one of my brothers.
“I come with a new offer.” I keep it vague to gage his interest. When he leans forward slightly, I internally grin. I’ve got him.
“And what would that be?” He tries to appear uninterested in his stoic facial expression, but I can feel his excitement.
“I’m proposing…” I hesitate, knowing the minute I say it, it’s solidified. Knowing there’s no going back after this. “A marriage alliance.”
It’s a gamble. The Irishmen do it often, but no other families have done it as far as I’m aware of. He could take offense to it.
“Explain.” The glint in his eyes tells me he’s interested.
“Someone from the Bratva will marry someone from the Syndicate. It’ll be a peaceful union in front of both families. Our men will see that we seek an alliance built on the most important thing to us: family.”
“Hmm…” he mulls over the idea. “Who are you offering up in this marriage?”
This is it. There’s no going back.
“Me. As the head of the syndicate, I will” bear this burden “get the privilege to join the families.”
“Interesting.” I can tell he’s already decided. “And who do you wish to marry?”
I can sense the trap. If I were to select a Bratva woman, he’d take offense on behalf of all the others.
And, technically, I shouldn’t know any Bratva woman.
But I do. I wouldn’t be a good leader if I didn’t know my enemy.
And my youngest brother, Sebastian, has computer skills that come in handy in obtaining knowledge we shouldn’t have.
“I have no preference. I trust whoever you select will make a fine wife.” I doubt it. They’ll be Bratva. And God forbid they’re related to him.
The room descends in silence as he thinks. I can practically see his wheels turning. Only when his expression morphs into a sinister grin does my heart accelerate.
“You’ll marry my daughter,” he says gleefully. “She is the perfect candidate. Young, beautiful, pure. There’s no finer Russian girl. She’s been raised to be the perfect Bratva Princess. She will do you well.”
My stomach drops. So, I’ll be marrying Katerina Sokolov, the girl in her twenties. Viktor’s young daughter.
“Thank you for this honor,” I say calmly and call up a grateful smile. “I will treat her well.”
“Yes, I’m sure you will,” he says flippantly. “My Katerina will be a good, subservient wife. She listens well and will be at your command. She’s untouched by any man, an unadulterated virgin. She won’t give you any trouble.”
A subservient wife? Listens well? At my command? I’ve never thought much of what I’d want in a wife, but it would’ve probably been something along those lines. A woman who respects me and obeys me seems ideal.
But for some reason, the thought of it disgusts me. I don’t know what I want, but a wife who’s basically my servant is not it.
And a virgin? That sounds like a nightmare. I don’t want some young, inexperienced girl. I don’t need someone who still has to grow up.
The way he speaks of her makes me sick. What kind of man can so easily get rid of his daughter? Sell her without a second thought. Without even discussing it with her.
“Thank you.” I nod in acceptance. “Let me know when she has decided.” I give him the chance to prove he’s not a total piece of shit father.
“I have decided. She’ll be your wife,” he assures me. He doesn’t even hesitate or take her feelings into consideration.
Despite not knowing or caring about the girl, I’m furious on her behalf. For fuck’s sake, this is the twenty-first century. Women get a say in who they marry. And a daughter should be protected by her father, not sold like cattle.
“Let’s talk logistics.” I switch the topic because any more talk of his slave daughter, and I won’t be able to stop myself from throwing a punch. “What do you want on your end?”
“Ever the businessman.” He laughs. “I want a ceasefire. Not one more of my men should have a finger laid on them. None of your men are to interact with my own. I need you to stop monitoring my activity. When we agree to peace, the threat will be gone, so no more observation is required… And your brother must pay for what he’s done. ”
I nod along until the last one.
“I agree to all the terms except the last one. Roman has done his penance in the form of being shot, twice, by your men. No more will be asked of him.” My tone leaves no room for argument. My family is off limits. It’s my job to protect them.
“Fair enough,” he concedes.
“Do you have any more demands?” I need it all on the table now.
“Port control. I want your ports near mine to be handed over. I have more… product being delivered, and with a higher supply, I need more docks.” His stern eyes show this isn’t negotiable.
“Deal. I want the same terms as the previous treaty. Total ceasefire. No men of mine are to be harmed. Any of your men found in our territory are at risk of being interrogated. If you start any wars, then the treaty is over. Also, you are required to attend every meeting of the families.” I add the latter as a precaution if things go south.
“My men can be interrogated but not killed.” When I nod, he proceeds. “I agree to these terms.”
I stand and shake his hand.
“My lawyer will draw up a contract and send it to you,” I say. I don’t trust him to make the contract.
“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.” His grin makes me anxious. This was almost too easy. “Should we celebrate over a glass of vodka?”
He’s already making his way across the room towards his cabinet. I’m not a vodka man, but I know better than to turn him down. I can’t risk offending him.
“Thank you,”’ I say tightly.
He grabs the hammer and brush that match the bottle and proceeds to open it in a way I’ve never seen before. He pours the clear liquid in two tumblers and hands me one.
“To the upcoming nuptials,” he says.
“Cheers,” I say tightly as I lift my glass to his.
“Za zdoróvye!” he says in return as he clinks his glass to mine.
I wait until he’s taken a sip before I bring mine to my lips. In my line of work, you never drink something offered to you until you’re sure it’s clean.
I take a sip and am surprised by its smoothness. There are hints of honey, oats, and vanilla. It’s certainly not the cheap stuff we drank as teenagers.
“This is from the motherland. Beluga Gold Line. Drunk by the elites and oligarchs. One of the finest vodkas in the world.” His proud, celebratory tone has me feeling victorious.
“Thank you for sharing it with me.”
“This is means of celebration. After all, by next month, you’ll be family.” He slaps me on the back jovially, and I almost choke on the vodka.
“Next month?” I knew the treaty needs to happen soon, but I didn’t consider the wedding would be in the next month.
“Of course. We don’t want to waste any time.” His eyes shine with victory, and it lessens the feeling of mine.
“Yes. Next month, I’ll marry your daughter.” Through the smile, I take a long sip of the vodka and note how my life is about to change forever.