Page 2 of The Bratva's Arranged Virgin Bride
I suppressed a long sigh. Fine. Leaning across the table, I gave him a shrewd look, assessing how much of the warlord was still hidden in my newly domesticated brother. I refused to think that part of him was gone forever, no matter who he’d married.
“I didn’t just come here to rule Hollywood’s nightlife,” I said. “I have big plans.” He raised an eyebrow, and I continued. “Together, we can push the Fokins out of LA. Hell, out of California altogether. We can rule the way the Mikhailovs do in Moscow.”
Arkadi’s laugh was bitter. “You’ve decided to go by Mikhailov again? Outgrown our mother’s name?”
My scowl matched his as he waited disdainfully for my answer. Yes, I’d been going by our mother’s maiden name, but only because she was the one who treated me like family when I was cast out.
“I had no choice in where I was sent to live,” I reminded him.
“Sent to live?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting up so high they almost disappeared. “You wanted to go with our mother.”
“She had no one after the divorce, and you know it. Father had no use for me.” I closed my eyes against one of my worst childhood memories—and I’d seen men being tortured by the time I was six.
Our parents had been forced to marry. From the beginning, they despised each other, and admittedly, my mother could be a handful. Our father was a cruel tyrant. He had his favorite son, the only thing that probably kept him from having our mother disappear off the face of the earth when she could no longer live under his roof anymore.
Svetlana Cheslov wasn’t completely without power, which would benefit Arkadi one day. Too many people my father relied on would have balked at her untimely demise, and it might have hurt my brother’s future reign. A divorce was the best they could do, and she was able to leave with a great deal of money, which pissed my father off enough to demand both sons.
As if I weren’t even in the room at the time, my mother asked what would become of me. She knew I wasn’t the favorite and rightly feared I’d be cast aside, sent to some obscure relative’s house, and forgotten. He outright sneered in her face that I was indeed a burden to him, but he’d take great joy in depriving her of something she loved. She’d never see me again; maybe no one would.
She had flown at him, scratching at his face, swearing and spitting. He easily tossed her to the ground, and I tried to stop him as he leaned down to smash her with his fists. I was sent flying across the room, and my mother gave in, pleading for him to relent and let her take me. She had to give up her monetary settlement, every last ruble. I held my breath, waiting. My mother loved fine things, and it was several long heartbeats before I learned if she loved them more than her second son. She finally agreed, and we were exiled from Russia.
Arkadi never knew any of that, even after things calmed down and became less malignant. I had too much pride to ever tell him how I knew from day one how unimportant I was to the head of the Mikhailov family, and God only knew what our father filled his head with.
I wanted to mend the rift between us, not deepen it, so I shook off the past and let out a breath. “You can’t make me believe Father was offended by me going by Cheslov. He never cared about me. I was never good enough.”
“No one was ever good enough for him,” Arkadi said, clenching his jaw. “The important thing was to keep trying.”
He paused as if there was more to say, and even remaining silent, I could easily see that he didn’t believe I ever tried hard enough. Out of all the ways I had gained my fortune, starting from nothing, no less, and the vast network of important, useful people who surrounded me, would any of it have impressed our father? It certainly didn’t seem to impress Arkadi.
“We’ve wasted a lot of time rehashing things that aren’t important,” I said, halting the argument even though I still felt wronged. “What’s important now is regaining all that territory you were so proud of.”
His eyes went as hard as diamonds at the mention of what he’d lost to the Fokins over the course of just a year. A muscle ticked in his jaw, then his whole face softened as he shook his head.
“I no longer want to fight with the Fokins,” he told me. “I’m happily married to one now, remember?”
I blinked, stunned. “That’s not just a long-running ruse?”
“I’m not a con man like you are, Kolya. I love my wife.” He stood up, leaning over me with a menacing look on his face, so similar to my own. “There will be no threats against the Fokins, even if they don’t yet accept me.”
He grimaced, clearly wishing he hadn’t said that last bit, not that I didn’t already know he was persona non grata with his new in-laws. I hid a smirk, looking around. The VIP tables were full of some very powerful people, and there were more downstairs, watching and waiting. I couldn’t see them, but I’d been informed they were there. They’d been keeping their eyeson me and my hot new club. Right now, they were definitely taking note of this meeting with my big brother.
My plan might take a little bit of tweaking now that I understand that Arkadi was actually dedicated to his Fokin bride, but it would still work. I would get what I wanted: my family back.
And more money and power. Lots more money and power. Always that.
