Page 2 of Cruel Russian Pakhan
“You’re right, I don’t trust the Rykovs. But they have something we need to sustain this family: intel. The marriage works in my favor. I seduce her, learn their other secrets, and use them against Artyom to gain leverage. Once our families are aligned, the men that gather the intel that Artyom thinks I don't have information about become our allies.”
Jaroslav raised a brow, his voice flat. “So, you think it'll be that easy to woo Vera into spilling all their secrets? I'm sure Artyom will warn her.”
“I’ll make it happen. One way or another.” My eyes swept over my siblings. “You’re my sem’ya. My blood. My priority. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect this family and keep the Safin name going. Anything.”
The others slowly nodded, but Jaroslav just stood there rigidly.
“When will the wedding take place?” Mariya asked.
“In a month.”
“So,” Ninel’s eyes twinkled, “Will you be having a lavish wedding? I'll need to get a new dress and—”
Pyotr rolled his eyes and sighed with exasperation. “Hey, party girl. This isn't a marriage based on love. All he needs is Father Gordon and the bride.”
Father Gordon had been tied to the Bratva for over twenty years. Always cheerful, always discreet. He never asked questions he didn’t want the answers to.
Ninel pouted before she and Pyotr bickered back and forth about why I should, or shouldn’t, have a grand wedding.
Eventually, the conversation lost its edge, shifting toward other business matters: the nightclubs, casinos, and the gambling dens that Marten, Pyotr, and Avit managed together. Ninel and Mariya then updated us on the growing needs of The Hearth, the soup kitchen and clothing drive they’d founded, and shared plans for the upcoming food and clothing drives. Then I informed them of the deals in motion: arms and ammunition and new smuggling routes. From there, the conversation slid into more casual territory.
Jokes, shared memories, and Mariya reprimanding Pyotr about his desire to sleep with every woman he came into contact with.
At the end of the night, I bid the others goodnight and made my way to my car, where Rocco, my driver, waited. The girls stayed at the mansion with Marten and Avit. Pyotr had his own apartment to accommodate his frequent female visitors, and Jaroslav lived a block from me, close enough to get to me if needed, but far enough for us to keep our privacy.
“Lev!”
I spun around to see Jaroslav walking briskly towards me. I was wondering how long it would take him to pull me aside to ask what he really wanted.
He wasted no time when he stood in front of me.
“What exactly is the plan if Artyom becomes aware of the knowledge that you possess on how he gathers his intel?” He glanced toward the mansion before his eyes locked on mine. “We don’t need him waging war on us. Not that we can’t handle it, but I'd rather not deal with the fallout.”
Going to war with another Bratva faction wasn’t unheard of. But one within the same city? That was a different beast. There’d be heavy collateral damage on both sides, innocent blood spilled, and the kind of chaos that could create a power vacuum we might not be able to contain.
“If Artyom finds out, we spin it, so that his own men look like they spilled the beans. Feed him enough misdirection to make him doubt his own circle. Distrust is a poison. If he swallows it, he’ll be too busy questioning his men to try to figure out how we found out about his operation.”
Jaroslav frowned. “And if he sees through it?”
I saw it in his eyes. Even though Jaroslav was my right-hand, he didn't want the position as the leader. He preferred the interrogations and going for the kill to sitting in meetings and making deals. But if things went south, he'd step into the role without blinking.
“Then we remind him what’s at stake. He’s not just a rival anymore, he’s family.”
Jaroslav lifted an eyebrow but remained silent.
“Once the marriage is sealed, and Vera bears me a child, our bloodlines will be tied. An attack on me becomes an attack on his own house.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You really think that’ll stop him?”
“No. But it’ll complicate the cost. Bratva wars are already messy—brother-in-law against brother-in-law? That creates fractures that will ripple down to his business and affect his income in ways even he wouldn't be able to control. And if he still wants blood…” My eyes narrowed. “Then we make sure it’s not ours.”
“But,” Jaroslav continued hesitantly, “this deal comes with a wildcard: you’ll be sharing a bed with her every night.”
“Vera will be my wife. Anything concerning her, I’ll handle personally. Artyom and his faction? We handle that together. You follow my lead. Just like always.” My tone was clipped.
He gave a firm nod. “Always.”
I turned and walked away, sliding into my bulletproof SUV. Rocco was already behind the wheel. As we pulled away from the mansion, I closed my eyes.
