Page 12 of Scarred Bratva King

He’s silent for a moment before answering. “I need you on the next flight out.”

“Why? You’re retired. Why are you getting involved in anything anymore?”

“This one’s personal.”

“How so?”

“One, your father only stepped in temporarily.”

I laugh. “So you’re coming back out of retirement to take over?”

Dmitri chuckles as well. “Not quite.”

“Too busy playing house with Elena to take the reins, right?”

“After everything with Ivanov, the Bratva needed stability. Victor has handled it well. But now, the old man’s ready to retire for good.”

“And?” I prompt, sensing where this is going.

“He wants you to take over. Victor’s giving us two months of his time. After that, the empire and all its assets are yours. On one condition.”

I let out a slow breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Which is?”

“He wants you to settle down,” he replies, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. “Says it’ll help show strength and stability. You know how he is, all about the appearances.”

I scoff, the sound sharp. “Marriage is for fools and romantics, I’ve told him this.”

“I got married. So which am I?”

“You need me to answer that, cousin?”

“I suppose not,” he says, laughing. “Look, you only need to be married for sixty days. Just long enough to check the box and make your father happy. Then he steps down. Think of it as another of your ‘delicate negotiations.’”

“You make it sound simple,” I reply dryly. “Where am I supposed to find a woman willing to marry me for two months who can also keep her mouth shut?”

“You don’t need to,” he says, his tone turning sly. “Come to New York. I have someone ready for you.”

“Who?”

“Not over the phone. Just know that she needs the protection of our name for a couple of months. It will be mutually beneficial.”

I glance at Ivan, who’s listening quietly, his expression neutral. “Who?” I repeat, my curiosity piqued despite myself.

“I’ll tell you when you get here,” Dmitri says. “Trust me, Maxim. She’s just your type. Got a hell of a mouth on her, andwants Vito Lombardi dead as much as you. Oh, and she’s just got out of a coma too. See, you’ve already got so many things in common.”

There’s a pause, and I can hear the smile in his voice as he adds, “Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials. I’ll be sure to get you a toaster.”

The line goes dead.

“New York?” Ivan asks, cellphone already in his hand.

I nod, my gaze fixed on the road ahead. “New York.”

He snorts out of nowhere. “Married?” He turns his head to look at me, his grin spreading. “Well, hell. Can I be your best man?”

A faint smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth, but I don’t reply. His humor is a welcome distraction, but my mind is elsewhere, tangled in the mess Dmitri just dropped in my lap. Marriage. Stability. Family. Words that mean nothing to me beyond their use as tools or weapons.

The irony isn’t lost on me. My father, the man who taught me to value power over everything, now demands I play house to inherit the empire.

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