Page 9 of Prince of Control
We’re the bratva heirs. The generation born into my father’s kingdom. A band of brothers and sisters with our own set of rules: Stay sharp. Protect each other and what is ours at all costs. Defend the weak from bullies. Wrest power from the campus autocrats. Leech money from the trust fund babies to pay for our enterprise.
They all stare as we come in, taking in the suitcases. The way my hand lightly rests on Lara’s back. My subtle declaration that she belongs to me. She’s under my protection, and they will accept her in, like they accept anyone I bring into our fold.
Zoe sits cross-legged on the couch next to Phoenix and her twin, Anya, who sprawls across the “L” of the couch with a laptop in her lap. Their father, Dima, is a hacker for my dad’s cell. There’s no firewall he can’t get through, and last year, when she moved into Baranov House, Anya honed her skills not only in hacking but in complex money laundering.
It is one of the many services we offer for an enormous fee. Along with several other illegal ventures.
My dad tried to keep me out of the bratva–even going so far as sending me to boarding school when I got obsessed with joining, but he allowed me to observe. After I had blood on my hands at too young an age, he let me train in every form of self-defense–from mixed martial arts to sharp shooting. I absorbed the lifestyle in every way I could. You could say the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.
“Hey, everyone.” It occurs to me I should’ve given them a heads-up about the whole arranged marriage thing before I brought Lara in. I guess I was in denial about the massive effect her presence will have on our house dynamics and activities.
Then again, if I’d given them a heads-up, one of them might say something about the marriage being a sham, which Lara can’t know.
“This is Lara Turgeneva, my fiancée.”
“Your…what now?” Phoenix puts down the game controller and stares from the sofa where he was playing with Zoe.
I tip my head toward the door. “There are two more suitcases in the trunk.”
He jumps to his feet. “On it.”
As he passes by Lara, he shakes her hand. “I’m Phoenix. It’s nice to meet you.” He sends me a what-the-fuck? look as he steps out.
Anders and Leo give me similar looks, but Anders goes to help Phoenix, stopping to shake Lara’s hand and introduce himself.
Phoenix was my roommate freshman year. A transgender student from North Carolina, he found some haters that first week of school until I straightened them out. His safety was the impetus for me securing this house. I needed a place I could build the sort of community I grew up in and protect my friends.
“You have a fiancée?” Anya asks, climbing to her feet.
“When did this happen?” Zoe demands, also standing. “I’m so confused.”
I glance at Lara, who stands stiffly beside me, refusing to look my way. I clear my throat. “Our parents arranged our marriage at birth.”
“Your parents,” Anya repeats in disbelief.
“Yes.”
“Wow. Okay.” She and Zoe come over, and Zoe throws her arms around Lara. “Welcome to Thornecroft.”
Lara stiffens and doesn’t hug her back, but something in her softens. I send Zoe a grateful look when she pulls back.
“This is Anya and Zoya. But she goes by Zoe.” I introduce them in Russian, so Lara will know she’ll have friends here who speak it, not that her English isn’t perfect. Of course, it would be. She lived her first few years here, plus she has an aunt and uncle and cousins in Los Angeles she probably visits.
“Nice to meet you,” Lara says.
“Leonid. Call me Leo.” Leo introduces himself in Russian and goes in for a cheek-kiss, which Lara accepts.
One part of me is grateful to Leo for his easy charm, but most of me wants to deck him for touching her.
“My parents had an arranged marriage,” Leo offers.
“Wait–what?” Zoe looks from Leo to Anya. “Aunt Sasha and Uncle Maxim had an arranged marriage?” Zoe is the house’s social media/publicity manager. She announces the parties we host and in exchange gets a cut of the door charge.
Leo nods. “My grandfather was on his deathbed, and my mom was about to inherit all the interest in his oil wells. He needed to keep her safe, and my dad was the only man he trusted.”
Anya turns her gaze on me. “Why was your marriage arranged?”
Damn her.
