Page 3 of Fate and Family

“With Majesty, you’ll be emperors.”

I exhale through my nose, the sound deliberate and unimpressed. “Russia is an awful place to start an empire.” I stand, pointing him to the door. “If my uncle in America rejected your offer, and so did my father and brother, why would you think my answer would be any different?”

Viktor’s jaw tightens. “You were your family’s last chance.” He straightens his shoulders and adjusts his jacket. “There will be consequences. People will get hurt.”

I shrug, unfazed. “There are always consequences, and there will always be more people. It’s not like there’s a shortage.”

Uri steps aside, opening the door without a word, and the men file out, their footsteps echoing in the hall.

Once we’re alone, Uri turns to me, his brow furrowed. “Are you sure about this?”

I glance at him and smirk. “Your father makes terrible choices. But if even he’s saying this is a bad move, well… even the dumbest guy in the room is right every once in a while.”

Threats are nothing new to me. I’ve been in this game my whole life, and I can smell a bad deal from a mile away.

My phone buzzes and rattles under some papers. The phone feels less comfortable in my hand than my gun. With my gun I always know what I’m going to get, but the phone has an element of mystery. Will it be an email? A game update? News?

Svetlana: Are you coming over tonight?

I frown, tossing the phone on the desk. Uri notices. “Is that Sveti?”

I smirk despite myself. “Don’t call her that. And yes.”

“Are you going over there tonight?”

I hesitate, running a hand through my hair. Look, she’s acceptable, I guess. I’ve known her since we were kids. Her family were our allies. But she was the sole survivor after one brutal night. We took her in.

As she got older, she wanted to be with my brother. He’s the heir to the family fortune, has all the power, blah blah blah. But my brother did two stupid things. One involved not paying a debt, and the other was falling in love. With someone not Svetlana.

So Svetlana was stuck with me if she wanted the family’s protection.

I sigh. “Maybe.”

I don’t want to go, but if I don’t, she’ll start cheating on me again. Not that I mind—it’s one less thing on my plate. Mafia marriages are loveless anyway.

Chapter

Two

Dimitri

The bar is closing for the night, and I watch the scene unfold on the CCTV cameras from the comfort and quiet of my office. Bouncers clear out all the drunken dancers and anyone looking to share a bed as the music switches from a pounding bass beat to softer ’80s jams—songs my employees sing under their breath without even realizing.

Katya counts her register, her lips moving silently as she works. She sways her hips and nods her head during the bridge of “Is This Love” by Whitesnake.

Uri leans over my shoulder. “Are you going to stare at her all night, or are you going to do something?”

“I’m not staring at her,” I reply, my tone sharper than I intended. But I am. She moves effortlessly, swaying her hips to the faint music as she works. Unbeknownst to her, I’m observing through a camera she’s clearly forgotten about. I could justify it—say I don’t trust anyone and I’m checking her work. But the truth? She’s earned her reputation as my best bartender. She doesn’t need me looking over her shoulder.

“You’re awfully curious about my love life tonight,” I add, leaning back in my chair with a smirk.

Uri huffs and turns away, pacing lazily across the office. “It’s more about your complete lack of a love life.”

“Dick.” I mumble under my breath, returning my attention to the desk. I scroll through emails, ignoring the irritation simmering in my chest. Legit bills to pay. Payroll to double-check. Crime isn’t as glamorous as people think. There’s a lot less punching and making threats and more math than we’re all willing to admit.

Uri disconnects from reality with earbuds, engrossed in whatever he’s watching on his phone. Ten minutes turn into twenty. The knot in my shoulder tightens, driving me crazy. I roll my neck from side to side, the joints cracking softly. That’s when I catch the motion on the back door camera.

It’s Katya, all bundled up and heading to her car. Her breath puffs like smoke in the icy night air, and she fumbles with her keys, fighting the stubborn lock.

---