Page 30 of Claimed Bratva Virgin

In the midst of able-bodied killer-machine men, she was the only woman. And the only person with a Styrofoam cup of black coffee on the table. No pressure. It just made it look easy, like we were in the middle of fingers hovering over triggers and eyes glaring murder at each other.

Among the selection of my men were Maxim and Vasili, and neither of them looked as enraged as I thought they would be. But others had it bad to draw blood.

The room was tense, thick enough to smell the testosterone in the air. Russians and Italians in one room never made a good mix. We had history. Bad history. And what was the saying about history?

It was never forgotten.

But no heads were rolling yet, so that was a good thing. She had the dogs on a tight leash, and I respected that. As long as we remained civil, everything would go as planned.

Her posture was a perfect portrait of authority as she offered me a curt nod and browsed through a stack of leather-bound folders with an expression unreadable.

Today, she scattered the image I’d saved of her in that black silk dress, replacing it with a corporate white button-up blouse on a brown high-waist skirt with a slit I was sure I wanted to see again. How she so easily changed her appearance into anything she wished, not aware of the repercussions that followed.

She looked harmless now, nothing like the wildcard she really was, and instead like a young, innocent girl signing a bunch of documents to effect a change of power in her father’s company.

“Shall we begin?” I strode to my seat at the head of the table, and silence reigned easily over the quiet murmurs.

Tikhon grabbed the chair beside me and took out a MacBook, probably to follow up every word they said with background research. Amongst other fine skills, he was good with computers.

Leonora leaned forward, her manicured fingers laced together. “We shall.”

“Great.” Placing my elbows on the armrest, I knitted my fingers. “You have my attention.”

“We need to discuss the details and terms of our agreement.”

I lifted a brow. “I thought we already did that nights ago.”

She cleared her throat. Leonora was smart enough to know she was the only one I intentionally recognized in the room and was speaking to. Every other person, in this moment, was a blur and was going to remain that way for as long as this meeting lasted.

“Elaborately,” she clarified. “You said you had some terms you wanted to review?”

I shrugged. “The profit. That was all.”

“Still. It was important to bring the men here to get acquainted while we elaborately discuss.”

“Okay. I’m waiting to hear all about your generous offer.”

Her lips twitched into the smallest smile before she withdrew to retrieve one of the folders in front of her. And when she started talking, I was starting to understand why Enzo treated her like an asset.

“Our economic data suggests a promising forecast for the joint ventures. If we proceed cautiously, both parties will see significant returns. You have an issue here, so I’ll pass the mic to you to air your thoughts on the split. Our offer is fifty-fifty.”

“Seventy-thirty. You need us more than we need you.”

Leonora narrowed her eyes. “We’ll stick with forty-eight percent. And that’s the end of it.”

I didn’t argue. This alliance between my family and Leonora's had the potential to reshape the landscape of our operations.

“Our collaboration on the shipping routes will cut costs by nearly forty percent. Your ports in the East are strategically placed, but they lack the distribution networks we’ve already established.”

She wasn’t wrong. Their logistical network was unmatched—routes that threaded through cities like veins, connecting supply chains with brutal efficiency. In return, our control over the eastern ports gave us the power to funnel goods without scrutiny. If we worked together, we’d dominate the underground market from production to delivery.

“Access to our financial channels ensures that both families can launder funds seamlessly,” I added, smiling when her eyes locked with mine. “With fewer intermediaries, we’ll increase profitability and reduce risks of exposure.”

One of the men nodded in agreement, and I had to blink to catch a clearer picture. He wasn’t familiar, but seemed wise. He looked like he didn’t like me, but he concurred with my thoughts.

Our financial system was airtight—banks, shell companies, and even legitimate businesses woven into a perfect facade. It was something her family had been struggling to replicate for years.

“And let’s not forget manpower,” Leonora continued, leaning back slightly. “Your security teams are unparalleled, Rafayel. Pair that with the intelligence my family can provide, and we’ll eliminate threats before they become problems.”

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