Page 1 of Mistaken
Chapter 1 - You just can’t keep your mouth shut.
In which a mistaken identity and Ella’s complete inability to keep her smart mouth shut have disastrous consequences.
Maksim…
“You don’t have a choice, Maksim.”
Yuri had been mySovietnikfor five years. That - and being my younger brother - were the only reasons he was still drawing breath. But my hand still moved instinctively to the gun holster hidden under my suit jacket.
He saw this, of course. “Kill me, don’t kill mePakhan, the answer is still the same. Sokolov is circling. If you do not accept his proposition, he will take it as a serious insult. He’s the last man in New York City that you want to insult. You know this.”
Rubbing my forehead, I paced in front of the fireplace. I avoided an arranged marriage while our father was Pakhan, and I’ve escaped getting entangled for the five years I’ve been in power. “Facing life with one of these lunatic Bratva princesses isn’t worth the power of joining in with another family,” I snarled, “Sokolov wants to absorb our territory, not combine forces.”
“His daughter Katya is very pretty,” Yuri observed.
“She put out her cigarette on the face of her maid because she didn’t get her an ashtray quickly enough,” I scoffed. “I wouldn’t want her near my children, much less bearing them.”
“I completely understand your concern,” he agreed, “but the meeting Sokolov has been requesting cannot be put off any longer. I am told he intends to block your access to three of our key shipping docks if you do not agree to the meeting next week.”
I never questioned Yuri's information; his spies were rarely wrong. His careful, formal phrasing told me that he did not enjoy offering this information any more than I wanted to hear it. I lifted the vodka bottle again, gesturing to him. After his nod, I poured us both a drink. “So…” returning to my pacing, “Sokolov is going to force this meeting next week. He will use the opportunity to demand an alliance between our families, using a marriage to his daughter.”
“Correct,” Yuri said cautiously.
“And if I refuse, I’m bringing down an all-out war.”
“That’s likely,” he agreed. Looking at me more closely, Yuri started laughing, “I know this expression of yours. It usually means trouble for me.”
“Not at all. But if I am engaged already, and with wedding plans underway within eight days, there is no discussion to be had, yes?”
“While you are extremely popular with the ladies,” Yuri said tactfully, “are you seeing anyone who could be considered marriageable? You do realize it has to be someone who understands this world and that this commitment would be for life?”
Mentally running through any potential candidates, I realized immediately that I associated with them primarily for sex. Occasionally, there was a woman whose intelligence and wit made her a pleasure to spend time with. But for a wife? This required a different set of criteria. Smiling at mySovietnik, I watched his face fall.
“?????, why are your most ambitious plans so filled with potential for disaster?” Yuri moaned.
“Not at all,” I said haughtily. “I’ll select an American. A professional. Embracing our new heritage as a US-based Bratva.”
He sighed, rising to his feet and buttoning his suit jacket. “I recall the Second from the Corporation’s London office doing this very thing when they were negotiating with theSolntsevskaya Bratva. You know how insistent they are about doing business with married men. Thomas Williams, I believe.He married the daughter of a CEO from one of their U.S. companies. She must have been good luck. He managed to take over the entire European region, without the Russian partners.”
“You see? Already, a blueprint for success,” I pointed out, “it’s not traditional. But since I’m not yet bound to anyone, I’ll have to make use of the next week to block Sokolov’s plans.”
“I’ll do some research,Pakhan.” Nodding, Yuri left the room, footsteps heavy. Sometimes, my little brother could just not see how my plans fit into the big picture.
Ella…
“If I have to spend another Friday night listening to you bitch and moan, I swear I’m going to cut you.”
Tania is my best friend, and I have to admit, she’s right. However, her memory is somewhat selective. She apparently didn’t remember crying on my couch after her last six failed relationships.
So of course, my big mouth spouted out, “Oh, like our month-long grieving period for Jake, the biker who left you to follow the Ghost concert tour? Or Mikal, your boyfriend who wanted an open relationship with you and your cousin? Or-”
“Fine,” Tania snarled, “but you know that loser Luka is out there getting some tonight. Why let him have all the fun?”
“True.” I agree gloomily, “That little cockalorum would absolutely be out there, somewhere. Sleazing his way through the female population of lower Manhattan.”
“Cocka- what?” Tania laughed, “Is this the word of the day on your British Insults calender?”
“Cockalorum,” I told her, “a boastful and self-important person, a strutting little fellow.”
