Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“Go before me.”
My guard does as he’s told and I synchronize my steps so that Lazlo and I are the last ascending the stairs. His guard and underboss are one step ahead of us after having gotten the message from Kolya. We strategically planned this so that our talk can take place on the stairs with no one suspecting us.
Lazlo Luciano is around the same age as Sergei, but not as sickly. His hair is completely white and he has a scar over his cheek from when someone wanted to carve his face with a knife.
No one knows the fate of that person or why he did it, but there’s a rumor that Lazlo let them go. A rumor that meant weakness, and the Italians did all they could to prove it wrong.
“Long time no see, Adrian,” he speaks with an Italian accent.
“Indeed,” I counter with a Russian one, to highlight my roots.
“Are my clubs and house beneath you now?”
“Of course not, Don. I’ve been busy.”
“Busy.” He raises a brow. “Busy with what, Volkov?”
“Bratva business.”
“That didn’t stop you from paying me a visit before.” He gives me a sideways glance. “Are we falling from each other’s grace?”
“No, but I might be falling from Sergei’s grace.”
He pauses, weighing the severity of the statement. “How come?”
“You already know, Don. Richard Green’s death serves you, not the brotherhood.”
“Yes, yes. But we can make it work, no? The ball doesn’t always need to be in your court, Adrian.”
“If you don’t pass it, you won’t have an ally in me anymore, Don.”
“Are you threatening me, Volkov?”
“I’m laying down the facts so you can choose wisely. If you don’t give us a share in your new candidate, Sergei will suspect I’m betraying the brotherhood. That means my death.”
“He wouldn’t kill you over something like this.”
“He would. He’s already searching for my replacement. Igor’s eldest son, Alexei, is the prime candidate.” He’s not actually, but it’s an incentive to convince Lazlo of how serious this is. Igor doesn’t like Lazlo because of an old grudge, and Alexei follows in his father’s footsteps. If Lazlo loses his strongest ally within the brotherhood—me—he will have no one to fall back on.
He’s gearing up for a new venture with one of the most notorious cartels in Columbia. The last thing he needs is a strained relationship with us or a domestic war. I use all the facts I know about him and his business plans to my advantage.
“Are you expecting me to share my cake, Volkov? We worked so hard to finally expand our reach, and now you’re telling me I need to give it up?”
“Not give it up. Use it wisely.” I pull back when Damien ascends the stairs behind us, accompanied by the Japanese.
He doesn’t pay attention to these things, but Kai does. His dark eyes roam over me and the small meeting I just had with Lazlo before he nods in a show of respect.
He’s also Rai’s ally, in a way, and for that reason alone, I don’t trust him. Sergei, Rai, Vladimir, and Kyle are all one package. If they put their minds into destroying me, it’ll have more impact than anticipated.
If it were any other time, I would’ve taken them all on and taught each and every one of them a lesson. I would’ve used my system to destroy them before they were able to touch me.
However, this isn’t only about me anymore.
The meeting goes well for the most part. The reason behind it is nothing but the strengthening of the brotherhood’s allies with the Luciano family, the Yakuza, and the Triads. It’s the same washed-up talk that Mikhail, Sergei, and Igor lead. Kirill speaks up, too, because he likes to appear to be a good sport. Damien spends most of the time smoking and pushing away Abe’s advances to pour him a drink. Vladimir is watching me. He’s being discreet about it, but I was taught by my mother to know when someone is a threat, even when I don’t see them.
I remain silent, as usual, unless Sergei asks for my opinion. Tonight, he’s out to throw jabs at me. I would’ve dismissed them any other time, but my unease about this night is once again filling with paranoia. A feeling I usually squash before it creeps into me.
“Adrian has the best relations with the Italians,” Sergei states. “How did that come about again?”
He knows, but he wants me to say it. “I helped the Don once.”
“What type of help?” It’s Vladimir who asks this time.
“He saved my life,” Lazlo says proudly. “The night of an attack on my club, I was swarmed by the fucking Rozettis and nearly died, but Adrian, who happened to be there by chance, saved me.”
“By chance.” Vladimir’s eyes slide to me. “You don’t believe in coincidences, though, do you, Volkov?”