Page 103 of Mountain Mens' Curvy Obsession

My blood runs cold. He is more than capable of such things.

“So what’s the plan, exactly? I say I’m cool with you killing my family and trying to kill me, too, and that I will gladly marry you?” I retort.

“In less abrasive language, yes. Remember, Anya. Your survival depends on this.”

Control. He thrives on it.

I almost buy into it, too, until I see the subtle change in his posture as the leaders of the other Bratva families start coming in, each accompanied by their most trusted lieutenants and several of their fiercest bodyguards.

Some I recognize from the past: enforcers, former FSB operatives, Moscow implants, who made a name for themselves all over the city. But I also remember how they all bowed before my family and me. The Asimov name meant something to these people. I find it hard to believe that Leo’s brutality has wiped out over a century of tradition.

“Leo,” Ivan Abramovic says as he reaches us. He’s a tall man with cool grey eyes that match his suit. He gives me a soft nod. “Anya, it’s so good to see you, child.”

“Mr. Abramovic,” Leo replies and shakes his hand. “Thank you for taking the time.”

“Ah, here comes Lev,” Ivan quips as the Fedorov representatives join us.

Slowly but surely, as pleasantries and suspicious glances are exchanged, the atmosphere in the warehouse shifts from quiet danger to potential obliteration. That’s the thing about summoning the big heads of the Bratva and cramming them all in the same room. It could go either way for the summoner.

“It is an honor to be in your presence tonight,” Leo says, raising his voice.

The leaders eye him intently, though I see them gazing my way, too, a little too often for my comfort. Yet as I stand here, trying so hard not to puke or bolt, I slowly realize that I am also one of them, if only by name. But I am one of them. Why am I letting Leo decide my fate? All I need to do is cast enough doubt to cripple his claim.

Tradition must still mean something to these people.

“The truth is, my ascension has been a bit rocky over the past few years,” Leo says. “But it’s been certain, nonetheless. I’m sure you can all agree that I now own a majority across several key industries in the city. I’ve got a firm hold over several essential transport routes reaching north into Canada and south into Mexico. My logistics network alone has generated several billion dollars in revenue over the last year.”

“We’re not doubting your skill or your capabilities,” Ivan Abramovic politely replies.

I look at Lev Fedorov. A muscle ticks angrily in his jaw. There it is, the doubt Ivan denied having. They most certainly do have doubts. But they’re also not willing to cross this bastard. Not when he’s amassed so much power.

“Then allow me to finally put the entire Dalton issue to rest tonight,” Leo says. “I know my actions were unbecoming, to say the least. But eggs had to be cracked for this exquisite omelet, and here I stand today, eager to present to you my future wife, Anya Asimova.”

Lev gives me a hard look. “The last of the Asimovs.”

“Mr. Fedorov,” I mumble, waiting for my moment, working up the courage, or the madness, whatever it takes, because if I let Leo go through with this, I will die. He won’t keep his word. He doesn’t need to. Not once he has the Bratva’s unwavering support.

“Anya has accepted my deepest apology for what happened at Dalton,” Leo says. “We talked it over, and we both agree the best thing for us to do is to move forward and get married, like her father intended. We’re to join our families and our territories, and peace will be upon us again.”

“Shall we say congratulations then?” Ivan Abramovic replies. He doesn’t sound convinced, and it seems to piss Leo off, but he keeps his cool.

Underneath, he’s seething, but I sense he’s also nervous. He knows it could go sideways at any time. No wonder he felt the need to threaten my baby and me in order to have his way. The more dangerous he comes across to the families, the higher the chances I can kick him in the shins, metaphorically speaking.

Here goes nothing.

“What do you expect to happen once you’re married?” Tatyana Mikhailova asks Leo.

“All of the Sokolov and Asimov assets will be moved under a single corporation,” he says. “Together, we’ll be covering about thirty-three percent of the Bratva’s current territory. It puts us in the majority, which means our vote will carry more weight in future decisions.”

“That’s a majority by a mere hair,” Ivan says, shaking his head.

Leo smiles coldly. “But a majority, nonetheless.” He shrugs for good measure. “What can I say, ladies and gentlemen? One does not stand in the way of true love.”

“True love?” I scoff.

That earns me a deadly glare from Leo. “What, my darling?”

“I’m sorry. I got tired of listening to all the bullshit coming out of your mouth,” I calmly reply.

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