Page 37 of Hers to Command

“And he chose poorly.” It is the first time I’m outright criticizing my father’s leadership and for a second Sergei’s eyes widen, but then he nods.

“It certainly did not go as he planned.”

“And now we need a new plan.”

A small smile plays on Sergei’s lips. “We?”

I nod. “Yes. We.”

Sergei shakes his head. “Is that your new husband’s idea?”

Annoyance flares in me, but I can hardly blame Sergei for his assumption. “No. It is my plan. Riccardo is useful for the protection he’s providing me from Dmitri, but he does not know I’m here, though perhaps he will hear about it from Gianna soon enough, since I asked Mikhail to meet me here.”

At that, Sergei’s mouth actually drops open. “Is Mikhail planning to demand his position?”

I almost laugh at Sergei’s obvious disbelief. “No. But I am, and I intend to ensure that Mikhail’s wife doesn’t get in my way sincethings will be difficult enough without that opposition on my hands.”

It’s the first time I openly acknowledge what has been brewing in the back of my mind ever since I woke up the day after my father’s death. Before, I never imagined myself being the head of the Bratva. Running things for Mikhail, yes, but claiming leadership in my own right? No, that never used to be the plan. But I’m done waiting. Reacting.

I want power. Respect.

And now I want recognition, too.

It’s too late to ask it from my father, and that would have been a lost cause anyway, but I look at Sergei, my eyebrow raised. “Do you object?”

My father’s friend weighs his head from side to side, considering me. “You know how to run things, that much you’ve proven.”

When my eyes widen against my better judgement, Sergei smiles faintly. “You cannot believe we did not know who ran the operations in the club. Why do you think your father allowed your studies? We know you are smart and good with the business. But we’re old men. Used to things running a certain way. A man in charge, even if a woman runs things.”

I sink into my chair, not prepared to accept what Sergei is saying.

“So father knew I ran the club?”

Sergei nods. “Yes. He allowed it, assuming Mikhail had to play wild while he was young. Thinking he’d eventually take charge. But yes, he knew you were capable if needed.”

Anger surges up even as some long harbored resentment against my father fades. “But he never included me. Never talked about the business.”

Sergei huffs and pulls out one of the chairs in front of the desk. “He knew, but he did not wish for it to be your life. Or perhapshe simply couldn’t picture a woman running things officially. Not even you. I think that’s why he wanted you married to Dmitri. The boy has a reputation as undisciplined but ambitious. It would have given the Bratva a man to handle the day-to-day operations, but you would have had someone you could subtly influence with your intelligence and beauty to steer things in the right direction. Young men are easily distracted by the wishes of their wives, you know?”

I shake my head, not ready to accept any of that yet.

“So will you give me your support if I oppose Dmitri now?”

When Sergei leaves, I deliberately position myself behind the office desk to remind Mikhail who’s been running this place all these years.

I pull out a piece of paper and start writing down notes. All the things I can think of to start living life on my terms. Anything to keep me from thinking about the fact that my father knew what I was capable of. Knew it, tolerated it, but never acknowledged it.

It was never enough to change his mind.

Unlike Sergei.

And hopefully enough of the men to make a difference.

When Mikhail finally arrives, he strides in like he owns the place. There is no sign of him being uneasy about anyone taking offense to the fact that he’s now working for the Italians. I actually have to force myself to stay seated and not get up to give him a piece of my mind.

Nope, I need to keep my ass in this chair and show him exactly how little respect he has earned from me in the past year. Show him that he doesn’t have the power to get under my skin.

“Glad you could make it,” I say, my tone steady. “Thought you’d like to see how well things have been running here without you.”

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