Page 75 of Under Control

“Beautiful,” he says and comes toward me.

I’m grinning like an idiot despite myself. I can’t remember the last time I got this excited to play dress-up. We could never afford nice clothes before, and pretty things always felt like a luxury I couldn’t really let myself think about.

Now though, my life is very, very different.

“What’s the occasion?” I ask as he pulls me against him. He buries my mouth in a blistering kiss, and I feel a little dizzy as he pulls back. “Don’t tell me you made me get dressed up just so you could take it all off again?”

“No, I don’t plan on undressing you at all tonight.” The implication sends a shiver of excitement down my spine. “We’re going to dinner. I realize that I haven’t properly introduced you to many of my most important brigadiers, and I want to fix that.”

“Brigadiers?” I ask as I take his arm and he leads me downstairs.

“Captains, you might call them. They’re some of the most important and trusted individuals in my organization, and if you’re going to be my wife, that will make you their queen. I need them to see you and to accept you.”

I chew on my lip as he gets into the back seat of a dark sedan. A man I don’t know is driving with another in the passenger seat. Both are heavily armed guards, and both give me respectful nods before the driver pulls out.

Nerves jangle in my stomach. I didn’t realize this was important, and I want to make a good impression. I’ve met some of these men, but never in a formal setting, and I realize that I don’t know all that much about the structure of the Zaitsev Bratva.

“How much can you tell me about your family?” I ask him, not sure how else to phrase it, and feeling slightly self-conscious around the guards.

“I’m thePakhan,” he says, frowning at me, and he lifts my hand to his lips. He kisses each finger as he speaks. “Beneath me are my brigadiers. Beneath them are their lieutenants, and beneath them are the soldiers. Each brigadier is the head of his own family, and there are other associated organizations that are subservient to the Zaitsev, whether through treaty or domination, it doesn’t much matter. They essentially function as arms of my operation.”

“Where does Anton fit in all this?”

“Anton is my lieutenant.” He smiles slightly. “Why the sudden curiosity?”

“You keep calling me a queen, and I just feel like I’m totally out of my depth. I guess I’m trying to catch up.”

“You don’t have to worry about any of this.” He kisses my palm, the heel of my hand, the inside of my wrist. My lips part as he stares at me. “I’m the power here. Trust in me,malishka.”

I trust him, though I’m not sure that I should.

The level of wealth I’ve seen in the last few days eclipses anything I could’ve dreamed up on my own. Right now, in this car, I’m wearing more money than I’ve had in my bank account at any point in my entire life. Hell, it’s probably more than all the money I’ve ever made added up together.

But the money is just one part of it. Valentin drips with power and a ruthless energy. His men are respectful to a fault, and hedoesn’t take any bullshit from them. I’ve seen the way he handles disrespect, and it’s terrifying.

I would not want to get on his bad side.

His hands remain on my thigh, possessively touching me, until we reach the restaurant. It’s the same Russian place as before, and the staff practically falls over themselves as they take us back to a large table in a private room in the back of the building. They bring vodka for him and wine for me, and he doesn’t bother ordering, only tells them to bring whatever the chef believes is his best.

“Here’s to my queen,” he says, raising his drink. “And here’s to a calm moment before the storm.”

“That’s a little ominous.”

His tight smile is all I get by way of explanation.

But soon his meaning becomes clear. Like the last time, a parade of people enters the room. Except now, many of them sit down and speak with Valentin, sometimes about grievances they have with other members of the Bratva, and sometimes about problems with other criminal organizations in the city. Some of them I recognize, and some of them I don’t.

Valentin listens patiently to each. He is fair but firm with his decisions, and only rarely makes promises. Our food arrives, but the stream of men and women coming to him for help doesn’t slow, and we eat as he deals with his business.

The food is delicious, but I’m distracted. I don’t know why I’m here right now, except to be paraded in front of his people. I thought we already did that—though tonight, Valentin makes more of an effort to bring me into the conversation.He introduces me, lets his guests ask me questions, and even encourages me to offer my opinion on matters. I’m a little uncomfortable at first, since I’m not sure what anyone would care what I have to say, but I find everyone is aggressively kind to me.

“It’s as it should be,” Valentin says in a lull between meetings when I bring up how everyone’s treating me like I’m important. “You’re thepakhan’swife.”

“Do wives normally get involved in this side of the business?”

He shakes his head. “No, not normally, but I like having you by my side. I don’t often do this, listen to all of these complaints and try to handle them, but it’s a part of the job. An organization like mine is big and complex, and I need to make sure it’s running smoothly. Having you here is my way of showing you off to the people who matter and signaling that you’re an important part of my life.”

I stare at him, at a loss. The next meeting begins, and I watch Valentin the whole time, sipping my wine and letting his words rattle around in my brain.

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