Page 10 of Forced Marriage Vows

Leah calls us over once she’s done and we leave the store, heading for a restaurant to get lunch. By the time we get there, Anthony’s bad mood has evaporated and he’s making jokes like nothing happened.

CHAPTER 4

Mikhail

Apart from the Pakhan, three other men hold the highest positions in the Bratva. The commanders, so to speak. They’re all middle-aged men who contribute to the running of the organization, giving out orders and making the major decisions with the Pakhan. My father, Damien Morozova, is one of those men.

He’s mostly known as a lethal snake. One that’s inclined to bite you in the back. He amassed most of his power from making shady deals with people in the Bratva, collecting secrets. He’s not a particularly violent man. My father didn’t get to where he is by killing people. No, he did so by being smart and not giving a fuck about anyone else but himself.

I despise him.

Another one of those commanders is Ivan Volkov. Now him, I admire. My father might be smart, but he’s also selfish, with only his best interests at heart. Volkov, on the other hand, actually cares about what happens with the Bratva. He’s the one who takes on the brunt of the work, making sure the organization continues to flourish. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous. He might be the most dangerous one of them all.

The last is Yuri Zakharov, but at the moment, he doesn’t matter to me. What matters to me is the reason my father requested I return home to Chicago. He spoke about urgent business, and I would have refused his invitation. If it wasn’t for the fact that he guaranteed I’d like the outcome of the meeting.

Now, here I am, seated in a room across from him and Ivan Volkov, and I’m already intrigued. I wasn’t even aware they had friendly relations. Whatever they’ve got to say must be good.

“Well? I’m waiting,” I drawl when they don’t immediately speak.

A crease appears between my father’s brows, making it clear he’s not impressed with my attitude. It’s a good thing I don’t owe him shit.

Volkov speaks up first.

“Thank you for meeting with us, Mikhail,” the dark-haired man starts.

For a man his age, he certainly looks youthful. I haven’t seen him in about a year, but he looks a little different. Happier in a sense.

“Mr. Volkov,” I greet with a short nod. “I should congratulate you on your wedding.”

“I got married a month ago,” he states.

“Yes, I’m sorry I missed it. I heard it was quite the affair.”

And by that I mean, his brother nearly murdered both the bride and groom. It sounded really dramatic.

“Yes, we’re all disappointed you couldn’t make it to the wedding. But that’s not why we requested your presence.”

“I await the reason with bated breath.”

Ivan seems to defer to my father to tell me, arching an eyebrow in his direction. My father and I look eerily similar. I can’t count the amount of times people have told me that I’m basically the younger version of him. Which, in my opinion, is a fucking insult.

His blue eyes rest on me as he fixes me with a serious look.

“It’s time for you to return to the Bratva, Mikhail. Permanently.”

My brows rise. “I wasn’t aware you could order me to do anything, Father. And I’m not inclined to listen even if you could.”

“Put your goddamn feelings aside and listen to me, son.”

“Don’t call me that,” I cut in. “I’m not your son.”

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure the last name you parade about is mine,” he says, blue eyes flashing.

“As it was your father’s and his father as well. You think they’d be disappointed with what you’ve become.”

He starts to curse me out in Russian but Ivan interrupts.

“Enough. I don’t have time for tedious family spats,” he says calmly. “We’re planning a coup.”

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