Page 63 of Bratva Menace

Like he would know. Akim didn’t even know enough about his daughter to realize she wasn’t the one to walk down the aisle. Any good parent would have noticed instantly.

Clara, another maid, came into the room. She held a pitcher of vodka. Her hands shook. She was terrified, and I could use that to my advantage. I offered her the plates in my hand in exchange for the pitcher, and her smile was filled with gratitude.

I didn’t want to leave the room just yet. I needed to listen to the conversation to see where everyone stood. To make sure my plan had succeeded. Clara took the plates from me, I took the pitcher, and she left, taking the dishes to the kitchen.

The air was ripe with tension. Shit was getting heated very quickly.

“He doesn’t know shit,” Dimitri spat. “He didn’t even recognize that the woman walking down the aisle wasn’t his own fucking daughter. How the hell would he know if that’s her handwriting?”

“Regardless, I know it is. I’ve had it compared to the journals my men found in her bedroom.” Sergei tossed the note onto the table. “There were pages and pages detailing her love for her bodyguard. She’s been in love with him for years. Anya didn’t want to get married. That proves this note is real, Mr. Tarasov. That you fell short in our arrangement.”

Akim visibly started to shake. “Mr. Volkov, please⁠—”

Sergei held up a hand. Akim snapped his mouth shut.

Boss move.

I moved to the head of the table, where Sergei sat, and poured his drink first.

“We had a contract,” he continued. “In exchange for marrying into the family, I get unfiltered access to the east and north trade routes.” He picked up a stack of papers at his side. “I held up my end of the bargain. My grandson was there, standing at the altar. Your daughter failed to show. Your daughter ran. Your daughter orchestrated someone else to take her place. You signed the agreement stating she would be there. She wasn’t. You failed to uphold your side, and therefore, restitution must be made.”

I moved to Dimitri next. His hands were clenched into tight fists underneath the table. It didn’t take a genius to guess he didn’t give a shit about that conversation. He only wanted to know where Lukyan was. That was why I liked Papa D. He was what a parent should have been like. He cared about his kids. Whether they were happy or sad. He loved them.

The pitcher clinked against Dimitri’s glass as I poured his drink.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, failure to fulfill the contract incurs a 100-million-dollar fine that you are now liable for.” Goddamn. “So, I’ll present you with a choice. You can pay the fine, bankrupt yourself and your family, or, you can do what I say, when I fucking say it, and I’ll let you and your wife continue to live the life you are so accustomed to.”

“Deal.” Akim didn’t even fucking hesitate. Not that he had any grounds to stand on. Just like I’d planned, he was the one in breach of the deal because his daughter didn’t show.

“Good. The first shipment will arrive at the docks tomorrow. Make sure it gets through without any problems. Leave.”

Akim stood, bowed his head, and rushed out without looking back.

Sergei breathed out a satisfied sigh, leaning back in his chair. “That worked out pretty well.” He chuckled, taking a drink from his glass.

The thunderstorm of anger Dimitri had been holding back unleashed in a fury. “Well?!” he roared, jumping to his feet. “My son is missing!”

Sergei merely shrugged. “So? You have two others. Your legacy is secure.”

“My legacy?” he whispered harshly under his breath. “I don’t give a fuck about my goddamn legacy.”

“You should. It will be all that is left of you once you leave this world. And that might be sooner than you think,” Sergei snapped.

Silence filled the room as the two hierarchies of the Volkov family stared at each other. The innuendo was clear: Sergei planned to kill his son. The only questions were the when and the how.

I poured the last drink—Vernon’s—and then went to the corner of the room, standing with my back against the wall, and waited to be called on like the other maid standing there, Lisa.

“Careful, Father,” Dimitri all but sang. “That almost sounded like a threat. What would everyone think if they heard Sergei Volkov wanted to kill his own son? That he could no longer control his own family? Why, it would be almost scandalous, don’t you think?”

Sergei’s jaw clenched. His eyes flicked to Vernon, who was following the conversation with interest blazing in his eyes.

The conversation I’d overheard back at the Volkov estate streaked through my mind. Sergei only cared about what others thought of him. That he was viewed as the scariest Mafia boss in the world. Reputation was everything in their business, after all. And it was evident that it was all Sergei gave a shit about.

His face relaxed, but even I could see it was fake as shit. “I’ll give you men to help find Lukyan.”

They’d never find him. I’d covered my tracks too fucking well.

Elaine, the head maid, came into the room and made a beeline right for me. Oh, fuck off, you old fart. “Retire to the kitchen and finish cleaning up. I’ll stay here.”