Page 44 of Merciless Queen

Number two is currently barging through my office doors, effectively cutting off the conversation between Anastasia and me, hours before she has to go to her performance.

And I don’t anticipate what hell number three will be.

“Dyadya,” I greet the man in an unamused and even more unsurprised tone. As he crosses the room, I straighten in my seat and drop my crossed feet from my desk. Dealing with my uncle always has and always will require me to be firing on all cylinders.

After two years of running the Bratva, he’s come to deal with it. Deal, meaning he barely bothers me anymore. I’m sure he’s waiting around for me to fuck up, but overall, it’s been decent. Dimitri warned me this is simply his father’s way, and not to trust that he actually accepted his early retirement with grace, but until he does something to piss me off, I’ve been civil toward him.

Based on his raging expression and red puffy cheeks, he’s somehow learned about recent events and isn’t thrilled.

Ivan stomps right past Anastasia, who only glances his way with amusement, and jabs a finger in my direction. “You are a fool. Where is he?”

I take my time answering him, making a point that when he saysjump, he doesn’t automatically earn my submission. After scraping one nail against the other, cleaning off invisible dirt, I finally give him the attention he’s all but salivating for, like a rabid dog.

“If you meanmyprisoner, he’s locked up. Not that I see how this concerns you.”

Ivan’s other hand forms a fist that he doesn’t use, proving his restraint. “Anything threatening the Bratvaismy concern. By blood, this organization will always own my fealty, my weapons, and my loyalty.” Words relating to the Bratva’s oaths.

“I respect that, Ivan, but this isn’t your place.”

“A man snuck into the mansion.”

Actually, I let him in.Seems Uncle doesn’t know everything.

Behind him, Anastasia rolls her lips together to stifle a giggle.

“And?”

Ivan’s eyes bulge, and I believe he’s seconds away from literally exploding. “And?You’re looking for me to saymore? Bozhe moy!”Oh my god. “Vanessa, your father would be ashamed. Who’s the intruder?”

Do I tell him? Dimitri didn’t know anything useful, but his father might. As annoying as it is, Ivan was around during my father’s entire reign so if there’s something he did to entice the Cosa Nostra into attacking, he’s my best shot at learning what that is.

With a low sigh, I reply, “A mercenary hired by the Cosa Nostra. Know anything about that?”

Ivan’s expression falters and he leans away from my desk, arms slowly lowering. “The Cosa Nostra?”

Throughout childhood, Ivan’s always reminded me of Papa in the sense of being unfailing. Fearless. Despite Dimitri’s hatred of the man, he was never one to run from a fight. So his face quickly fading from red to white raises my own internal nervous flutters.

“If you know something?—”

“I assume your father never told you,” he cuts me off, and for once, I’m okay with the interruption.

I glance Anastasia’s way, sharing her own look of confusion as she watches my uncle from behind. He shifts before falling into the seat beside her, only sitting on the edge as he swipes a palm down his face.

“He didn’t, but you could have,” I say coolly. “Two years, and you never thought to warn me there’s something between the organizations?” Something without a paper trail, which is disconcerting on its own. No mention, nothing from more recent years than what history has recorded.

With a levelled stare and a huff that almost sounds amused, he starts. “There was a reason beyond the creation of an international empire as to why your father was determined to get into a union with the New YorkFamiglia. He believed—hoped, really—a connection to another massive and powerful crime family would provide protection against them.”

Papa had one drive: power. That’s all New York was to him. Anywhere he went, if there was authority and influence to be had, he was determined to be the one controlling it. Me included.

“That makes no sense. The Bratva has more manpower than theFamiglia.” It was his main point to Erico; that with me as his wife, New York would gain an unbeatable force. But it didn’t change the numerous rejections Rossi gave him.

Ivan’s lips fold down in the corners. “Or is that what he told you? Because if that was the case, what was your father’s motive behind gaining New York?” Based on his tone, his challenging question isn’t one I’m supposed to have an answer to, but I do.

“Power. A North American partner.”

“Yes,” my uncle agrees, “but not for the reasons you think. Not solely, anyway. My brother knew that with more protection, the Bratva would not only be better set up for war, but he targeted the organization with the largest foothold. The Italians control much of the U.S., so he felt owning the other half would be beneficial. It’s why he attempted to get rid of Rossi’s wife. To clear the path for your marriage…and his security.”

“That still makes no sense.” Not based on the man I knew. His pride wouldn’t allow him to seek backup for a potential war—which I still have no answers to. I slump against my chair backing, drumming my fingers along the desk’s edge in agitation.

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