Page 41 of Under Control

The house is busy as car after car arrives. Anton and Nikkita are busy letting the visitors inside and ushering them into the large conference room in the rear of the building.

It’s the first time in a while that the full upper level of the Zaitsev Bratva has met in one place. These kinds of gatherings are dangerous—they’re a tempting target for our enemies—but I have two dozen men watching the perimeter.

And besides, my mansion is the safest in the city. A few years back, I had the entire place renovated. The front facade is bomb-proof and the glass is bullet-proof, and each room gets swept for bugs twice per week. There’s an underground tunnel that leads three blocks away with several access points hidden throughout the premises, and only I know where all of those entrances are.

If someone manages to pull off an attack here tonight, they’ll fucking deserve it.

“Do you think we have enough vodka?” Anton asks me, sounding genuinely worried.

“I believe ten cases will suffice.”

He seems skeptical. “The way they’re drinking, we might need ten more.”

“Send someone to the liquor store then.” I pat him on the shoulder. “This is going to go well.”

“Are you sure about that? There are already rumors.”

“That’s why we’re meeting like this.”

He grunts and looks over his shoulder. There’s a low murmur coming from the conference room and laughter spills out.

“It’s good you’re married,” Anton says, sounding like he’s picking his words very carefully. “But everyone expected a Russian girl.”

“They’ll come around.”

“Speaking of which, where are you keeping her tonight?”

“Locked in my room. She wasn’t happy about that.” I give him a wry smile. Karine was fuckinglividwhen I told her that she couldn’t come downstairs this evening and accused me of kidnapping her. At least until I made it clear that if this went wrong, her life could be in danger.

I posted four guards on my bedroom door, just in case.

I’m not taking any chances with my new bride.

Anton heads into the conference room first. The talking dies down when I follow. A dozen men stare back at me, their looks ranging from amused to downright hostile. Oleg Fedorov sits toward the back and gives me a sharp nod—at least he understands how this is going to play out. There’s RomanEgorov, owner of a chain of massage parlors that are flimsy fronts for prostitution rings; Konstantin Pavlov with his crew of vicious, hardened killers, my best wartime brigadier; there’s Andrei and Pavel and Yegor and Artemy, some of my most loyal and trusted men, each running their own small piece of the Zaitsev empire.

All of them hardened, ruthless killers and thieves.

“Gentlemen, thank you for joining me.” Anton pours a glass of vodka for me and I raise it to the assembled brigadiers. “Za druzbu,” I say, and watch as they echo it.

The room drinks. Not a man refuses my toast, which is a good sign.

“What did you drag all of our old asses here for, Valentin?” Roman leers with me with crooked teeth. “Not that I’d ever deny your hospitality and good vodka.”

“I can drink to that,” Pavel echoes. He’s a heavyset man with a clever mind and a short temper. He runs half my restaurants and is in charge of laundering the Bratva’s cash.

“As you’re all aware, I was going to be engaged to Oleg Fedorov’s daughter.” Their smiles fade away as I speak. “But that hasn’t worked out.”

“What happened to the girl?” Pavel asks.

“She’s no longer an option,” I tell him, holding his gaze until he finally breaks and looks down at the table. “Instead, I’ve found another suitable wife. We were married yesterday.”

There’s a shocked murmur at the table. My men exchange looks, though I note that a few of them aren’t as surprised as the others.Yegor and Artemy in particular have their arms crossed over their chests and seem like they’re distant from the others.

“Who’s the girl?” Konstantin asks, sounding genuinely curious. “We should meet her and drink to her health. This is a happy day, isn’t it?”

“I noticed we weren’t invited to the wedding,” Pavel says, but he sounds genial about it. “All right,Pakhan, I agree with Konstantin. Where’s the girl?”

“My wife’s name is Karine Vardanyan.”

---