Page 2 of Bound By the Yakuza

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KARINA

“You must think I’m crazy!”

My father glared at me over his hands, his large frame hunched over the polished mahogany desk. Silence stretched between us, broken only by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of his office. The air smelled of expensive cigars.

“I would only think you crazy if you do not accept the proposal, Karina.” My father scolded. “We would be fools to turn down this offer.”

I bit back the terrible response that nearly passed my lips. Being a daughter in the Russian mafia had taught me a lot of lessons, and one of the most important ones was not to speak out of anger. It was also my biggest challenge. My mother had tried to raise me well, her only daughter, to be an eloquent and calm young lady. But, as fate would have it, I was just as fiery and stubborn as my three older brothers.

I took a breath before speaking, my hands clenched tightly on my knees. “Father, I am only twenty-one and I am not interested in marriage.”

My father frowned. “Your mother and I married when she was nineteen.” His thick mustache wiggled as he spoke.

“It’s a different time,” I argued.

“A different time, yes,” He said, cutting me off. “But not a different family.” My father was referring to the mafia. “The Bratva, it is our family, our tradition, our blood. This marriage would strengthen us. The Petrovs are a good breed, with much money and power. It would ensure our survival in these uncertain times.” His golden rings glinted in the lamplight.

I gritted my teeth. I gave my father a curt nod, rising to my feet.

Marriage was the last thing on my mind but I knew it would come someday. The only daughter of a mafia boss was a curse. I was his only bargaining chip to strengthen the family. It was my destiny. Good thing that I didn’t believe in destiny.

-

My father and the suitor’s father arranged a meeting with us the next day. Apparently, time was of the essence.

I looked at myself in the mirror, dressed in a red cocktail dress with gold accents and matching metallic pumps. My light blond hair was tousled in a loose updo, with tendrils of wavy curls to frame my heart-shaped face. The dress was tight enough to enhance my curvy figure without looking too vulgar for a formal dinner and showed just enough cleavage to be enticing to any man.

I looked like an absolute vixen which was a mask I was accustomed to wearing. No one would guess that my love life had constantly been pushed aside for my work in the Bratva. No man had ever been brave enough to seek me out before. I knew how to handle firearms better than any man.

I turned around, observing my figure from every angle. Then, holding in a sigh, I clasped a golden necklace around my neck, sprayed a hint of perfume on my wrist, and left my bedroom without glancing back.

My head was swimming with thoughts as my feet led me downstairs and to the formal dining room on their own accord. The dining room was long and narrow with a table at the center, large enough to comfortably seat twelve. My father and mother were there, along with my brothers.

At the head of the table sat an old man who I assumed was my suitor’s father, the other man to his right made me cringe. The heir to the Petrov gang, his oldest son, Gedeon. He was thirty, my father had told me, but he looked like a child. His face was round without a hint of stubble; his hair was slicked down to his head and his suit was almost too small. He was the only one at the table who had begun to eat. I wrinkled my nose in disgust at his poor manners. What was my father thinking?

My father cleared his throat and stood as I entered. “Mr. Petrov,” I wasn’t sure if he was speaking to the older or younger of the pair, “This is my lovely daughter, Karina.”

I bowed in the smallest curtsy my pride would allow. “Good evening.”

Mr. Petrov rose to his feet. His face was pink from drinking wine, but darkened a shade when he looked me up and down. He was what one would expect for a mafia boss to be - large, tall and threatening, even with rosy cheeks. “Ms. Nikolaev, what a pleasure.” He kissed my hand gently.

I struggled not to pull myself away too quickly as I took my seat across from Gedeon, who had barely looked up from his meal. “Sorry I’m late.” I said as someone filled my glass with white wine.

My father chuckled. “Always fashionably late, better to make an entrance. That daughter of mine is as crafty as she is beautiful.”

I forced a smile, wanting to scream through my gritted teeth. The dining room filled with the twitter of fake laughter.

My brother Aleksey caught my eye from down the table, giving me a sympathetic look. I gave him a discrete signal with my pinky finger - we had used it to communicate since we were kids and the bodyguards that were always stationed around us still hadn’t figured it out yet. It was a simple gesture that screamed “save me!”.

-

Aleksey stood leaning against the door while I packed my bags. His arms were crossed over his wide chest and his mouth was pressed into a thin line. I could see the worry in his gray eyes, which I avoided as much as possible. Aleksey was the only person in this family I could trust - my brother, born one year before me. Our other brothers were many years older; so the two of us had grown up as close friends.

I had already showered and changed out of that dress. Later in the night, my father had suggested that Gedeon and I dance. His skin was hot and clammy. I could still hear his labored breathing. The poor creature couldn’t even make decent conversation. I felt disgusting around him and I knew that there was no way that I would ever accept this match. I shuddered just thinking about it.

I shut my suitcases with a snap, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “Aleksey,” I tried.

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