Page 8 of Dark Prince

It's a strange feeling to be this close to someone who was a stranger only hours ago yet now feels so integral to my existence.

Chapter 4

Luk

“We need to discuss the expansion plans,” I begin, my voice low and firm. “Both for Ivanov Holdings and our Bratva operations.”

My brother Lev leans forward, his eyes narrowing slightly. “The West Side is ripe for the taking. We've already got a foothold there; we just need to push a bit harder.”

I nod, considering his words. “Agreed, but we need to be strategic about it. Brute force won't win this. It's a chess game, not a street fight.”

It’s late morning the next day, and I'm sitting in my study at home, a room that breathes the essence of old-school sophistication. The walls are lined with dark wood paneling, and the heavy leather furniture speaks of a time when craftsmanship was revered. The air is thick with the scent of aged books and the subtle hint of cigar smoke, a remnant of countless late-night discussions.

My brothers, Yuri and Lev, are seated across from me. Yuri's lean frame is relaxed, but his eyes, sharp as ever, miss nothing. Lev, always more intense, sits with a rigid posture, his black hair and grey-blue eyes giving him a look that's as distinguished as it is unpredictable. His military background and expertise in interrogation make him an invaluable asset to the Bratva, but his unpredictability is a constant concern.

Yuri chimes in, his tone measured. “Financially, we're positioned well for an expansion, but we need to cover our tracks. Laundering the money through the new construction projects is the best way to go.”

His way with numbers has always been his strength, and his ability to navigate the complex financial waters of our business is unmatched. “Good,” I say. “Ensure that everything looks clean. The last thing we need is unwanted attention.”

Lev's gaze shifts to me, a flicker of something like ambition in his eyes. “What about the O’Malleys’ territories? There's a weakness there we can exploit.”

I lean back in my chair, considering his proposal. “It's a risky move, but it could pay off. We'll need to be careful, however. The O’Malleys aren't going to roll over without a fight.”

As our business discussion progresses, I find my thoughts drifting as images of Maura invade my mind unbidden. Last night's memory is vivid—the feeling of her fair skin, her long, lustrous red hair, and the expression on her face when she reached her peak. It's disconcerting how pervasive these thoughts are.

“Hey, Luk,” Lev's voice cuts through my reverie, a teasing edge in his tone. “You with us, or still in the bedroom?”

I shoot him a sharp look, irritation flaring momentarily. “Focus, Lev,” I retort, trying to steer my mind back to the matters at hand.

He laughs. “I could say the same to you, brother.”

Just then, our sister, Elena, walks into the room, her presence a blend of confidence and understated elegance. She catches the tail end of the conversation and, with her usual perceptiveness, picks up on the underlying subject.

“There’s more to Maura than just her beauty, Luk,” she advises as she sits down in one of the office’s high-backed leather wing chairs, her tone serious despite the teasing glint in her eyes. She's obviously smart and has inside knowledge of the Irish mafia. She could be a valuable asset.”

I've never been one to discuss my personal life openly, especially not in terms of romantic relationships. “We have more important things to focus on,” I say, attempting to redirect the conversation back to business.

Lev smirks at my sharp response, clearly enjoying the rare opportunity to tease me. “Come on, brother, you can't blame me for noticing. It's not every day Luk Ivanov gets distracted, especially by a woman.”

Elena’s gaze flicks between us. “Maura's not just any woman, Lev. She's clearly clever and accommodating. She played her part well last night. I think there's more to her than meets the eye.” She grins. “Even though there’s no doubt that her looks heavily factored into your decision to agree to the marriage.”

I want to dispute her, but she speaks the truth. I’d been engaged to somebody else, but when the offer for Maura—none other than Sharon Halsey’s beautiful, virgin stepdaughter—was presented to me, there was no resisting.

I feel a twinge of annoyance at the conversation's turn. “Elena, Lev, let's keep our focus on the business. We have expansion plans to finalize, and let’s leave my choice of wife out of it,” I say, trying to steer the conversation back to less personal matters.

But Elena isn't so easily deterred. “I’m just saying that a woman like Maura could become a significant player in our world. Don't underestimate her, Luk.”

Her words linger in the air, a reminder that Maura's role in my life—and potentially in the broader scope of our family's operations—might be more complicated than I initially thought.

Lev leans back in his chair, his expression amused. “All right, all right, back to business. But you have to admit, marriage suits you. I can already tell.”

Before I can respond, there’s a knock on the door. “Come in,” I call out, grateful for the interruption.

Grigori Petrov, my arms dealer and close friend, steps into the study. With his dark brown hair, bold brown eyes, and sharp jawline that hints at his Slavic heritage, his presence is commanding. His face bears the scars that tell tales of past missions as an arms dealer and enforcer. He's a man who embodies the rougher side of our world. His gaze briefly meets Elena's, a look passing between them that I notice but choose not to comment on.

“What's going on, Grigori?” I ask, my impatient tone indicating that I expect straight answers.

Grigori's expression is grim. “The would-be assassin from last night—he's dead. He didn't last long under questioning.”

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