Page 6 of Bred To Be Owned

The reception was still going strong. A few people were dancing, but this was mostly about being seen and making connections. I didn’t care about any of that. If I wanted to work with someone, I researched them before making contact. I didn’t want bad business partners, and most of these people couldn’t tell their heads from their asses. There was a difference between earning what you had and being fed with a silver spoon. While these people had never known hunger, I’d spent years learning how to survive without a spoon.

I found my brother, Adrik, sitting at our table, a bourbon in his hand.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he muttered, as I sat next to him.

I chuckled quietly. “You don’t really want to know. Have you seen Pahkan floating around here?” If this had been my territory, I would have handled business and then reported it. Junior was an Italian, andthe rules were different. The Lombardos wouldn’t care that they were losing a fuck-up, but I needed permission to protect the rest of our Bratva cell.

“What are you doing?” Adrik asked, taking a large gulp from his glass.

“You know what I’m doing. You’ve been telling me it’s a bad idea all day.” I wasn’t afraid anyone would hear our conversation. We were far enough from the outside walls to see anyone approaching before they were close. We also weren’t advertising our conversation. Anyone looking would think we were just sitting here.

“I don’t like it. You’re chasing pussy.” He swirled the ice in his drink and then took a sip. “You want that? Go to a whorehouse.”

“Careful. You’re talking about my future wife. I have no problem putting you down for stupid shit like that.” It wasn’t the threat that it sounded like. Adrik was my older half-brother. It would take a lot for me to put him down, and he knew it.

“You won’t. You’d have to get a new sovietnik that might actually give a shit. I have no such compunction.”

“You give a shit about the wrong things,” I said, slapping his arm. “Where’s Pahkan?”

“In the bathroom, getting his dick sucked.” He finished his drink, setting it on the table. “Whatever you’re doing, you don’t do it alone. If you’re going down, I’m going to be right next to you, pointing and laughing as I lose my life.”

“Duly noted.” I stood and headed toward the bar. If I went straight to the bathroom, someone would notice I’d just walked in, only to leave again. It would bring more attention to my situation than I wanted. Appearances were everything.

I ordered a bourbon and waited at the bar. I hadn’t been sitting long when there was a slight tugon my suit coat.

“Volkov, you’re a hard one to get a hold of.”

As I slightly turned on the barstool, preparing to stand, a hand extended toward me. I’d met Mr. Ricci a few months ago when he’d tried to pitch a new partnership. He was an Italian capo, and under normal circumstance, I would have listened. However, I thought his business plans were a little thin, and I didn’t feel comfortable extending my reach into his territory. He had given off vibes that suggested I’d end up doing all the work and not reap the rewards. I’d told him it wasn’t the right time and had gone about my business.

“Mr. Ricci,” I said, shaking his hand. “It’s a pleasure.” It wasn’t, but I wouldn’t tell him that. He was taking up precious time that I didn’t have right now, but there was no way I was going to get out of this unscathed if I rushed it.

“Volkov, I tried to speak to your brother, but he said he has no authority to supply me.”

I held in my laugh. Adrik had authority. That was why we worked well together. He made the day-to-day operational decisions, while I thought of the big-picture moves to ensure our future. He just didn’t like Ricci either, which was why he had passed him over. I’d remind him later, with my fists, how shitty it was that he had set me up like this.

I made a non-committal sound. “We’re not taking additional contracts right now until we can expand a little further. I would hate to promise you something I can’t deliver on.” That was a smooth lie. I could deliver to the right customer. Ricci just wasn’t it.

“Hmph,” he said. “I’m disappointed to hear that. Ivan says he can supply me, but I would prefer to do business with you.” Of course, Ivan would say that. He didn’t care who his business serviced as long as they were paying, but then he’d turn around and bitch that hiscustomers sucked. That was what you got when you did business with the bottom feeders.

“If Ivan has room, I’d jump on that before his slots fill. He’s been growing lately, and there’s always a chance that he’ll close his doors. Unfortunately, I won’t be opening mine until I can get the growth under control.”

“Hmph,” he said, again. “When you do, I better be the first one on the waiting list. Good to see you, Volkov.”

“You, too. It was a beautiful wedding.” It would be a cold day in hell before I ever went to solicit his business. I wasn’t about to make enemies when Ivan made enough for all of us. I chuckled to myself. At least I’d look good when Ricci screwed up, and Ivan would have to deal with it.

I walked with purpose out the side door closest to the bar and headed toward the restroom. Nodding at a few people I passed, I raised my glass in their direction, taking a sip. The drink was a decoy, and when I found a potted plant, I dumped the rest.

It was quiet in the hallway as I reached the men’s room. I expected the door to be locked, but it easily turned in my hand. “You trying to get caught?” I asked, flipping the lock and leaning against the back of the door.

My brother hadn’t been wrong. Our Pahkan was leaning against the sink, his hands gripping the ledge behind him as a young server was on her knees, trying to make him hard.

“I like to live dangerously. It’ll be worse for her if we’re caught. I’ll just get a slap on the back and some new contracts,” he said, speaking over her head.

She was inconsequential, and neither one of us checked for her reaction. It didn’t matter. This was a man’s world, and even though he was the leader of our cell, people throughout the city would respecthim. The operations manager would fire the server for abusing company time, and then the Italians would ensure everyone knew she was blacklisted from any business, including the brothels. No one wanted to go against the mafia, legit or otherwise, and she’d be destitute until she left the city. It was just the way things worked, and I would have done the same thing without a second thought if it had been one of my employees.

“What are you doing here? You’re not an exhibitionist,” he said to me.

I flipped to Russian. “I need to ask for your permission.”

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