Page 4 of Bratva Prince
“You’re packing?” I asked, still stuck on the lingerie he’d been digging through. Lingerie that had been so rarely used—if ever—that they were collecting dust from sitting in the drawer for so long.
“Duh,” he answered. “There aretwotickets. I’m going with you.”
2
Ivan
One of my favorite parts about visiting Greece was the water. The boundless turquoise sea held a temptation that was indescribable, and it called to me in a way like no other. As far as ocean waters went, the Aegean Sea was a majestic beauty, and my favorite place to park my yacht, so to speak.
I took one of my private jets to Greece, as Dimitry suggested. Once I got there, I asked around, did a little digging, and within a few days had figured out who was behind the theft.
Armon Egorov.
The bastard practically gave himself away, and thanks to my right-hand man, Mihailo, we were able to discover his involvement even quicker.
It started with the decline to have access to the governor’s port back in Murmansk. I sent him a proposal that he didn’t approve, which threw everything for a loop. I needed that port. Without it, how was I supposed to smuggle arms to Spero? Complications like that pissed me off.
This was where my digging came in handy. Armon is closely related—politically, not in the familial sense—to our dear governor. A few shady, backhanded deals were brought to light, thanks to Igor and Boris—two lovely bar patrons who are more than willing to sing like canaries when I pile them with bottles of vodka.
Those two men are the eyes and ears of that bar, which happens to frequent the governor and Mr. Armon Egorov. Only, they’re often overlooked, seen as two drunk men who can’t get their shit together and spend every night drinking their lives and livers into oblivion.
But I know better.
I know that if you throw them a few compliments, boost their egos a bit, and make them feel important, they’ll tell you anything you want to know. Which was how I found out that Armon Egorov—my new enemy—was in cahoots with the governor to destroy me. Destroyus, the Koslov family.
Not only did he decline our use of the port, but he gave Armon access, which only further validated my suspicions. Now my only question waswhy? Was he really so pathetic that he needed to steal from our business just to ensure the strength of his own? Was he trying to destroy our family for his own gain? And how would taking us down enhance anything he has to offer?
Until I could get these answers—and my stolen goods—I would remain in Greece and put an end to this nonsense. And the first step would be talking to Armon myself. Which was why I asked Mihailo to arrange a meeting with Armon to come to an agreement.
Though I wasn’t so naive as to believe that we actually could come to terms and find peace. If there was one thing this business had taught me, it was that things never ended so clean-cut. People were never willing to settle, to compromise.
Never.
By the end of our meeting, I would have Armon’s blood on my hands after I tore him apart, limb from limb, making an example out of his corpse for what happens when you fuck with the Koslov’s.
But he didn’t need to know that. All Mihailo had to tell him was that I wanted to talk about potential business prospects.
Until I heard back from Armon, I figured what the hell—I’m in Greece. I might as well enjoy it, right? It wasn’t every day I had the time to explore Greece for my own personal pleasure, and although this trip was still corrupted by business, I had a few hours to spare. A few hours to relax on the beach and enjoy that turquoise water.
So, I decided to take the yacht from Santorini to Crete. It was my own little reward for a job well done, which was why I also had Mihailo join me. His clever intuition and judgment led us to finding out about Armon a lot sooner, so this was my treat to him: a day at the beach.
Not only was the ride there intoxicating, stimulating my senses in a way that brought me a tranquility I so rarely explored, but the beach was incredible. The sun was hot, beating down on my skin, making the water ever so enticing.
“Come on, Miki,” I called out to Mihailo, calling him by the pet name he so desperately despises—or claims to, anyway. Not that I believe him. But what are friends for, huh? “The water feels superb, you should get in.”
Never one to relax, he stayed on the beach, soaking up the sun in the only way he knew how—staying alert and handling business on his phone. After I’d exhausted myself with the water, I plopped onto the sand beside him.
“Miki, quit being such a downer,” I whined, wanting more fun than he was offering.
He shook his head, giving me a no-nonsense look on his stern face. “You know I hate it when you call me Miki.”
“So you say…” I leaned back onto my elbows with my feet crossed at the ankles, enjoying the heat from the sun pounding onto my chest, little beads of sweat forming despite having just cooled off in the water.
Two women were walking past us, carrying their beach equipment in their tiny arms. “Right here is good,” one of the women said, flashing me a smile. “Right next to the handsome men.”
I cocked an eyebrow at Mihailo, who was rolling his eyes, and planted a devious smile on my face. “Well, hello beautiful,” I said, turning back to face the women. “Or, should I say beauties, considering you’re both gorgeous.”
They snickered in response, taking extra care to pop out their ass as they arranged their blankets. One wore a black bikini that barely covered her ass and breasts while the other wore a one piece with a slit down past the belly button and holes in the sides, revealing everything that she could legally reveal on a beach.
