Page 77 of Bratva's Vow
“Can’t hold your liquor?” Gusev raised a brow.
“Figured I wouldn’t be required to shoot straight in this meeting.” Aistov laughed. “Am I, Boss?”
I scowled. “We’re here to go hunting.”
The levity dried up. Aistov’s smile dropped, and hebecame serious as he flipped the back of his chair around and straddled it. “What or who are we hunting? Must be important for you to call a meeting. It’s been a long time since we’ve all gotten together. Usually, it’s Archie breathing down our necks.”
“I want all the eyes you’ve got watching out for Chief Stone.” I sat. “I want to know everything you can find about him—who he fucks, who he owes, what time he pisses, and which hand he scratches his balls with.”
Vasiliev blinked slowly. “Chief Stone? He’s the one you’re looking for?”
“Yes. He’s made an attempt on my life at least twice, and you know what they say about the third time.”
“Is that all?” Popov asked. “That should be easy enough.”
“Good. If he’s found in twenty-four hours, I’ll offer each of you three million dollars.”
Aistov whistled. “Damn, Boss. You sure he didn’t piss you off some other way? You’ve had attempts over the years and never been this generous before.”
“May have something to do with the fact that the boss got himself a boyfriend,” Vasiliev said quietly.
“I heard the rumor too but didn’t believe it,” Gusev muttered under his breath.
“First of all, who I fuck is nobody’s business but me and him.” I confirmed Wren’s gender with his pronouns without making them feel that I owed them any explanation. “Our relationship is about business and business only.”
“But seems like what you got is a personal problem you want us to help you fix,” Vasiliev said. “Not to mention the backlash if people find out, and if we’ve heard…”
“What the hell are you saying, Vas?” Aistov snapped.
“We’ll be a laughingstock among the other mobs. People may not give a damn about your indiscretions, but the Pakhan’s reputation alone keeps everyone in check. Willanyone take us seriously when they find out where the boss is getting his dick wet?”
“How dare you?—”
I raised a hand to cut Archie off. I didn’t need him to speak for me, and he was doing too much of that lately.
“I sense you have a grudge, Vasiliev. Do you have a problem with me fucking other men?”
“He should be so lucky to be the one sucking your dick,” Aistov grated out between his teeth. As irreverent as always. But this was why, of all four brigadiers, I got along well with him the best. He took the business seriously but not life. Plus, everyone knew about his indiscretions with other men. He just wasn’t high enough in ranks for it to become a problem. But a Pakhan being gay? It was my father’s reaction all over again.
“Let’s be frank. I don’t care who you fuck.” Vasiliev got to his feet. Sergei pushed off the wall and, in a second, had shoved him back down in his chair. “But I care about the reputation of the man we’re supposed to be working for. I don’t need people getting bolder and coming after me because they think my Pakhan is a joke. They already question whether you are really committed to the mob. You spend most of your time running a business, while we do all the dirty work. Then the one time you decide to meet us instead of sending your lap dog,”—he glared at Archie—“it’s because of some bitch boy you’ve decided is more important than the people who’ve done all the work for you for years.”
Vasiliev’s glare held, but something in him shifted. Maybe he expected me to argue, to shout, to call him disloyal and banish him like a sulking prince. He wasn’t ready for silence.
And silence was all I gave him—for a beat too long.
“If you’re so unhappy,” I said at last, tone even, “you’re free to leave.”
Popov froze, glass hovering an inch from his lips. Gusev’sfingers twitched where they rested on the table. Aistov sat up straighter, watching us.
Vasiliev blinked. “Leave?”
“You heard me.” I rose, slow and controlled. “If you have such an issue with how I run things… if my bedmates and business model offend you so deeply… the door’s in front of you.”
He opened his mouth, then shut it again.
I took a step forward, gaze never leaving his. “After years of working for me, you should have enough to strike out on your own, shouldn’t you?”
I reached out and picked up his crystal tumbler—still half-full.
