Page 52 of The Bratva's Innocent Bride

“Of course,” he says, clearing his throat. “If there’s a different role you’d like instead—”

“No,” I say, shaking my head and launching into his arms, spilling my drink a little. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He wraps his arms around me, and everyone cheers around us, clapping and laughing when I almost knock him over.

“Cheers to Fiona’s graduation and her new job!” Anya says, raising her glass when Boris can’t because I’m wrapped up in him.

“Cheers!” Everyone repeats back, drinking their champagne.

***

Managing the airfield is both challenging and exciting.

I’ve been in the role for a little over a month, and there are so many factors to consider—weather, flight paths, and how air traffic laws are changing in the region. My job is to get the Family’s drugs in and out of the state with minimal interference from local airports and no interference from the police.

So far, I have a flawless record.

The first thing I do in my new position is meet with every person working at the airfield so I can read them all personally. Then, I raise the wages and increase personal accountability.

“Hello?” I say, answering on my wireless headset as I walk through the dock, checking to make sure the aircraft inspection is running on time.

“Hey, Fi,” Anton says, “I have an extra shipment of Coke here. If I get it to you by two, can it fly out?”

“Make it 1:30, and it’s a deal,” I say, coming to a stop when I see Viktor outside my office. I turn, trying to act like I didn’t see him.

“Fuck, Anton, what is your brother doing here?”

“Probably hoping for a quickie, I don’t know what the two of you get up to.”

“Not that brother—the other one, you dumbass.”

“Don’t call me a dumbass, and in that case, he’s probably there to annoy the shit out of you.”

I hang up and walk toward my office, clearing my throat to get his attention.

“Hey,” I say, “how’s your thigh?”

“Ha,” he says, tucking his phone into his pocket. “That was months ago. When are you going to come up with something else to say?”

“Probably next time I have the opportunity to stab you.”

“Listen—” Viktor says. “I’m here to talk to you about the Hawker.”

I roll my eyes and suck in a breath. I’ve had this conversation with him a dozen times, and my opinion on it has never changed.

“First, the airfield is my domain, so I don’t see why you’re here, pitching ideas to me. And second, I’ve told you a million times that I don’t like the HS-125. It’s too big.”

“But that’s the point!” Viktor says, standing behind me as I unlock my office. “It can haul more product. Fewer trips, less waste. What is it you’re always saying? That business jargon? A lean operation—right?”

“Sure, it’s bigger,” I agree, stepping inside and throwing him a glare over my shoulder when he steps in behind me. “But bigger isn’t always better. Easier to spot in the air. And it’s also riskier—if a large shipment gets picked up, that’s more product confiscated. Smaller flights mean if one gets compromised, we lose less overall. We have more time to adjust our approach before another shipment can get picked up.”

“Aren’t you always talking about your flawless record so far?”

“So far—that’s exactly right. It’s bound to happen eventually, and I don’t think minimizing risk is the wrong choice. Which is why I’m keeping the smaller planes. Besides, we already have these planes. Buying more is a significant investment, and I just don’t think it’s worth it.”

“But—”

“Oh my god, Viktor!” I say, turning on my heel and throwing my hands up in exasperation. “Aren’t you supposed to be handling recruitment? Why are you always in here, messing with my operation. I have everything under control. I swear to god you never showed an interest in this until it became my thing.”

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