Page 2 of Trapping His Darling

I must admit I didn’t foresee the ruthless assault by Don Ricci coming. I expected it to end in serious discord, but got a dethroning instead. The situation couldn’t have unfolded more perfectly. Our organization seldom regarded women as significant, save for their role in procreation.

“Roger?” My father turned to his trusted right-hand man.

“Yes?” Roger stepped forward, poised to receive his orders.

“You must take Viktor under your wing immediately,” my father commanded. “Demonstrate to the men that Viktor is more than capable of replacing Alexie. This will also mollify Don Ricci a bit, that even though Alexie is still alive, his birthright has been passed on to his younger brother.”

Roger concealed his displeasure well. My godfather might have harbored some affection for me somewhere, but like everyone else, his loyalty remained with Alexie. And I knew he was holding out for my brother to come back. But it wasn’t going to happen.

No matter. Like Father Christmas, I was making my list and checking it twice. The men either complied or would die. Simple as that. Alexie wouldn’t have tolerated anything less than absolute loyalty, and while I mostly hated that motherfucker, I could utilize his methods to reign over my men. An iron fist was imperative.

“Yes, you can mentor Viktor,” my father continued, pouring yet another drink, “guide him into his new role as the heir. Ensure he not only possesses the skills, but also the willingness to do whatever it takes for the Bratva.”

With drink in hand, he collapsed into his chair, looking very old and tired. “Viktor, it’s time to advance the line of succession.We cannot allow our men to fear a power vacuum, should we both meet our demise. Seek a suitable Russian woman and carry on our tradition by siring an heir. This will reassure the men,” my father emphasized.

Say what now? A woman? An heir? Absolutely not!

I vigorously shook my head in dissent, but my father raised his hand, silencing me before I could voice my objections. “You may have a small following among the men,” he sneered, “but that allegiance will crumble once they witness your weaknesses.”

I didn’t have any, other than letting my family hold shame over me for something that wasn’t my fault for far too long. With the ousting of my brother, I had learned something very important that eased my guilt, even more than throwing my brother under the bus with the Italians. Yes, I was sexually assaulted, but at least I didn’t purposely shame my family the way Alexie did by fucking the wife of our closest ally. Yes, I didn’t kill my own mother like I was supposed to, but I also didn’t flee my home the way Alexie did. I suffered the consequences. He ran away from them. He was too scared to face Don Ricci like a man.

“You must demonstrate that you not only possess the capacity to rule with an iron fist,” my father continued, “but that you stand apart from your brother. I’ve already found a suitable Russian woman for you to settle down and provide an heir with. Follow Roger’s guidance precisely, and everything else will fall into place.”

“No–”

“Yes,” my father interjected firmly. “You must be stronger and more ruthless than your brother,” he asserted. “Remember, boy, those are some formidable shoes to fill, and from where I’m standing, you don’t exhibit themuzhestvo.”

I remained silent, scoffing at the idea that I had no courage. Underestimation was a familiar occurrence, one that had fueledmy determination to prove my superiority. I had always known I was better, but they had lavished Alexie with so much attention that I rarely could showcase my worth. However, this slight to me had also been an advantage in a different way. They really had no idea of what I was capable of until now.

I hoped they were prepared to witness the true extent of my courage. By the time I finished with the Bratva, I would leave the soldiers wondering why they ever followed my brother at all. And I had no need for an heir to achieve that.

CHAPTER TWO

Viktor, Russia

I briskly strode downthe corridor and slipped out the back door, making my way to the rear of the property. A swim was in order. It hadn’t been too long since I had immersed myself in those frigid waters, but I needed it now to clear my cluttered mind, and maintain control over my emotions, which threatened to consume me.

But rather than the anger I was accustomed to, the silent rage I often carried, there was a small sense of hope, and dare I say, excitement.

With a nonchalant disregard for the weather, I shed my clothes, paying no heed to the multitude of old scars that stretched and pulled, as I exposed my body. My skin bore the painful reminders of a life steeped in brutality; cigar burns, whip marks, and a few knife wounds that had never healed properly.

I plunged beneath the icy surface, the chilling water offering solace as it enveloped me. My strokes propelled me farther from shore until my chest ached, the world above obscured by the depth.

I surfaced, gasping for air and savoring the sensation of cleansing relief. For a moment, the ceaseless chatter inside my mind quieted, granting me a fleeting respite from the turmoil within, and the voices that haunted me.

I turned my gaze toward the shoreline and noticed a figure standing at the spot where I had left my clothes. As I drew nearer, I recognized Roger, holding a plush robe.

Inwardly, I sighed. I didn’t particularly fancy a robe at this moment. In fact, I relished the sensation of my veins running ice-cold, the bone-chilling feeling that washed over me once I left the water, and the air painfully dried me until my skin gave way to numbness.

But seeing that Roger looked intent on standing there and ruining my peace, I came to terms that my brief respite in the lake was over.

I swam to shore, then upon reaching it, stepped out of the lake.

Roger’s serious expression signaled there was business to attend to, and I knew him well enough to recognize that this was Bratva business. Being cast into the shadows all my life had afforded me the luxury of studying people in various situations, including Roger’s subtle tells.

Rather than put on the robe he handed over, I patted myself dry with it and put on my clothes. “What’s happened?”

“Your training begins now,” Roger replied.

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