Page 1 of Bratva Prince
PROLOGUE
Ivan
Fifty miles until Moscow.
I whipped around a curve, probably going faster than I should have, but what’s life without a few thrills? Especially when I’m in my baby—my prized possession—my Lamborghini Aventador.
The wind whipped through my long hair, and despite it being pulled back, strands blew across my face, making the experience of driving with the top down even more enriching.
There’s a reason they call me The Prince. I love my toys. Luxury cars, sports cars, jets, boats—anything with an engine. Though, my Lambo is without comparison. The only other possession that comes close is my yacht, which is more of a home than my actual home.
“Moya Anya,” I purred as I rubbed my hand along her dash. Yes, my car is a female, and yes, she has a name. Do my brothers tease me relentlessly over it? Absolutely, but I couldn’t give a fuck less. My Anya has been too good to me not to name her.
I sighed, enraptured by the calming state of mind that driving along a secluded road brought me. It was the only time when I could let go and let my senses run free, without concern over the next man I’d have to kill, or the next shipment coming in, going out.
Being a Bratva brother was fucking stressful, man. Don’t get me wrong, my brothers and I were amazing at what we do, but sometimes a little peace was nice to have.
The time had passed too soon, and I approached the long driveway to my mansion. Pulling into my garage, I parked Anya. She had a special spot in the garage—better than Polina, Vera, or any of my other cars.
I should’ve pulled back out of the garage and left because when I went inside and saw Dimitry waiting, lips pulled in tight, eyebrows creased—I knew something was about to kill my high.
“Dimitry,” I greeted him with my arms extended, feigning happiness, though I knew he came as the bearer of bad news. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I wish I were here under more pleasurable circumstances, but unfortunately, I’m not. Misha sent me. There’s been an issue with the transportation.”
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose between my thumbs. “Out with it, already.”
“There’s been a theft. Someone stole all the weapons in transit and—”
Dimitry was cut off by the phone ringing. I tsked, grabbing the phone and answering to one pissed off client. The client who had been waiting for those guns that were now missing. Fucking fantastic.
After several minutes of howling, he finally eased up long enough for me to assure him that I would find the person who stole his shit, and I would kill them with my own bare hands before letting them get away with our goods.
“Spero, my filos, I guarantee you the stock will be shipped. You will get exactly what you’ve been promised. You have my word on this. Have I let you down yet?”
“Well, no…”
“Exactly. Rest assured, my friend, you will receive your goods.”
It wasn’t easy, but after fifteen minutes of persuasion he finally relented, and I hung up the phone, letting a loud groan escape my lips. My fingers ran through my hair, tugging slightly in frustration.
Son of a bitch.
This was just what we needed, someone stealing our shit.
“What are we going to do, Dimitry? This is a major client. If we can’t work this out, it could be a major hit to the family business.”
Dimitry laughed and placed a hand on my shoulder, cusping it. “Relax, Ivan. I have no doubt that you will sort this mess out. I know you can do it because you’re a Koslov—and the most cunning Koslov at that.”
A smirk crept at the corner of my lips. I knew what he was doing—stroking my ego so I would go kill the bastard that dared to steal from the Koslov family. And it was working.
“So then what, dear brother, would you suggest I do?” I asked sarcastically, since he wanted to hand out advice like it was little candies, sugar-coated with bravado to hype me up.
“Go to Greece and speak with Spero personally.”
I shook my head, reviewing my options and coming up short. Not that it took much convincing. We couldn’t lose that client. I refused to allow some mudak to interfere with my business and live to tell about it. I would sever his tongue, excruciatingly slow before putting a bullet into his brain. And I’d do it with a smile because you don’t fuck with the Koslov family and get away with it.
After I reassure Spero about the transaction, I’ll hunt down the man who dared to cross me and get back what is mine. There’s a reason I’m the cunning Koslov.
