Page 40 of The Bratva's Knocked-Up Bride

“Let’s get down to business,” I said. My group—Boris, Anton, Gwen, and two Bratva associates, Pieter and Vasily—take our seats on the sofa and armchair across from the gang. I cross one leg over the other, leaning back in my chair, exuding confidence. My gaze locked onto the representative from the Vultures, named Luther, a man who wore his arrogance like a badge. “You called this meeting. What did you need to discuss?”

Luther leaned forward, his eyes glinting with a predatory gleam in the dim light of the room. He ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, a gesture that seemed almost casual, but I could sense the calculated nature behind every move.

"Roman," Luther began his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the tension-filled air. "We've been thinking about your... generous offers." His lips curled into a smirk, the word 'generous' dripping with sarcasm. "And we've decided to reconsider our position."

I felt Gwen stiffen beside me, her fingers tightening imperceptibly on the arm of the sofa. I kept my face impassive, my eyes never leaving Luther's as I waited for him to continue.

Luther leaned back, spreading his arms across the back of the sofa in a display of casual dominance. "We're willing to discuss a potential partnership, but on our terms."

A partnership? It takes everything in me not to scoff out loud. Who did these men think they were? What possibly possessed them to believe for even a second that they were worthy of our time, let alone a partnership?

I kept my exterior cool, not at all reflecting my amused and annoyed interior. I raised an eyebrow, my voice cool and measured. "And what terms might those be?"

Mark, who seemed to be the middle brother, leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a predatory light. "We’ll take your club on Fairmont. We also want the bar on Valley. As well…” He exchanges a look with his brothers and the other men. “We want a large cut of the Diamond's profits. Thirty percent, to be exact."

This time, I have no interest in hiding my true feelings. Anton laughs while Victor seems ready to rip out their throats. I couldn't help but let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Thirty percent? On top of two of our properties?? That's quite the ask for a group that's contributed nothing but trouble so far."

Dean, the youngest and most volatile of the brothers, bristled visibly. "We've contributed plenty. Our connections, our influence—"

Anton cuts him off with a sharp gesture. "Your 'influence' has been nothing but a thorn in our side.”

Victor leans forward, his body language and words becoming more hostile by the minute. “So far, you’ve done nothing but waste our time and stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. Really, I mean, I have to ask,” He laughs, but the sound is colder than it is amused. “Where the fuck do you get the ideathat we would agree to any of those things? Howstupidcan you be?”

Mark's eyes flashed dangerously, his hand twitching towards his jacket. I tensed, ready for any sudden movements, but Luther placed a restraining hand on his brother's arm.

"Now, now," Luther said, his voice smooth as silk but laced with venom. "Let's not be hasty. We're all businessmen here. Surely we can come to an... arrangement."

I leaned forward, my elbows resting on my knees, fingers steepled. "An arrangement implies mutual benefit. So far, I'm not seeing any benefit for us."

Mark's lips curled into a sneer. "The benefit is that we don't turn this city into a war zone. Don’t underestimate us. You don’t know what we're capable of, Milov."

The threat hung heavy in the air. I felt Gwen shift beside me, her breath catching slightly. I placed a reassuring hand on her knee, a subtle gesture to remind her I was there, that she was safe.

"Is that so?" Victor replied, voice dangerously low. "Perhaps it's you who doesn't understand what you're dealing with here."

"Let me make something very clear," I said, each word precise and cutting. "The Bratva isn't some small-time operation you can intimidate or threaten. We've dealt with far worse than you, and we're still standing. Your so-called 'war zone' would be nothing more than a minor inconvenience to us."

Luther's smirk faltered, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. Good. He was beginning to understand.

"But let me offer you a counter-proposal," I continued, my voice low and menacing. "You will cease all operations thatinterfere with our business. You won’t get your ransom. But I’ll give you the properties you want and throw in a couple of condos as well, but only in exchange for the girl. And you will pay us a 'protection fee' of 20% of your profits."

The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. I could see the shock and outrage building in the Vultures' eyes.

Dean was the first to react, laughing out loud. "You can't be serious! We came here to negotiate, not to be insulted."

I remained perfectly still, my gaze never wavering. "We approached you in efforts to maintain peace while you repeatedly resorted to ransoms and threats.”

“We’re being generous, which is something you don’t deserve,” Anton added. “This is the negotiation. Take it or leave it. And you really need to remind your leader—yes, I’m aware you’re not the main man—who the Milovs are.” The finality in my tone makes the atmosphere even more tense.

Luther raised a hand, silencing his brother. His eyes narrowed as he studied me, clearly reassessing the situation. "And if we refuse?"

A cold smile played at the corners of my mouth. "Then we'll show you exactly what the Bratva is capable of," I said, my voice a low growl. "And trust me, it's far beyond anything you've imagined."

All of the men seemed so angry that it was almost as if smoke began to spew from their ears. While Mark and Dean were noticeably enraged, Luther was the only one who tried to maintain his composure, which was breaking more with each passing second.

“You’re making a mistake,” he warned, his voice low and menacing. “Frankly, we’re being more polite to you people than what is necessary. Hell, I’ll even go the extra mile and allow you this onefinalchance.” He crosses his arms. “You get the girl back for eighty thousand cash. The properties we discussed. And, sure, we’ll throw in that protection fee from our profits from them, but only 15 percent.”

I pause once more, then tilt my head, feigning deep thought. I glance at Victor, then Anton. Then, I let out a sigh.

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