Page 25 of Slipping into the Dark Side

“You talked to him before me?”

Yakov let the silence answer the question. It was the reason he was dealing with people his own age. All the old bastards believed they were in control. But they were last season’s fashion, about to be replaced by the new and younger.

Yakov sat up. “Mr. Nevsky, I have respect for you–” a huff interrupted him and almost derailed his speech, but he pressed forward. “—And your position in this corporation. But everyone has a job. Some wait to be called on. But when they are called on, it is obligatory to show up. Even if their fathers or husbands, or wives or mothers don’t like it. That is the contract you have signed up for. If you want to renegotiate that contract, I’m open to conversation. I can’t promise it will go well, considering all the debt you owe me. Would you like to schedule a meeting?”

Nevsky clenched his teeth. “No.”

Yakov sat back. “My business with your daughter is professional. I would not disrespect her or you. Do you trust me to do the best for this family?”

With a deep breath, Nevsky let out his stress and nodded. “Yes, of course.”

“Good answer. Please join the others so we can begin.”

Yakov watched him leave before he slammed his hand on the desk. The nerve to question him was a sign that he didn’t have them under his control. If he could kill all the fathers without the sons hating him, he would. But it was the sons he needed. They were the future of the company. That’s why Yakov started with Fedor. The man was different. He didn’t connect with his father, hated him even. If all the future heirs saw how well Yakov brought Fedor fame and fortune, they’d fall in line, perhaps overtake their own fathers without involving him.

It was precisely why going after Tatianna was a terrible idea.

Yakov fixed his suit, feeling the weight of his sister’s gaze. She had become his secretary in the last few months. And though she wasn’t savvy in business dealings, she knew who was on his side and who wasn’t. Her presence usually stopped his impulsiveness. She could talk to him like no one else, remind him of the risks, and steer him on a better path.

Typically, that is. But Luerna wasn’t against Yakov falling in love with Tatianna. In fact, she very much encouraged it. “Maybe I can call her and get her here.”

Yakov snatched his coat from her hand, pinning her with a glare.

“I’m very lonely. I need some girl time.” She smiled with a wink.

Yakov left her to do what she wanted. He was not going to be around in a few minutes. He was going to be too busy.

Going down into the restaurant, everyone was gathered at round tables. Thirty-five of his generals and their sons filled the tables and lined the back. Everyone was here. He had finally earned their attention. They weren’t sure if he had been the one to go after the Rostovas, but they speculated and it caused enough fear for them not to chance it. It was exactly the effect he was hoping for. He would be feared, just like his father.

When Yakov made his way to the stage, Fedor eagerly gripped his hand in greeting. The man was trying so desperately to get Yakov to like him. Usually, it was something he hated, but Fedor was aggravatingly nice and a good person. Feeling actual guilt for secretly stealing away his fiancé was something Yakov didn’t want to face.

Yakov stood at the podium and eyed everyone in the room. He wished he could boldly state he had been the cause of this terrible accident. But the old ass fathers looked at him like they were planning his murder. “The tragedy of this morning–”

Fedor slammed into him, and his back hit the ground, taking his breath and choked, trying to get air in his lungs. But the shouts and the shooting overhead kept him from getting up. Fedor pulled out a gun, keeping a hand on Yakov’s chest, keeping him down as he looked around. “Gunmen came through the door behind you,” Fedor explained in an adrenaline-hushed whisper. “They almost shot you.” He peaked around the edge of the podium. A sigh escaped him. “They got them. Holy shit. That was too close.” Fedor laughed.

Yakov blinked.

Fedor was bleeding from his arm. The man had just taken a bullet for him and saved his life.

Chapter twelve

Surrender

The assassination attempt of Yakov Morozov was the talk at all the gatherings for the days that followed.

And Fedor was the spotlight.

Tatianna held onto his arm with a proud grin, more than willing to expose her fiancée’s bravery with embellished words and exaggerated explanations. It was her duty to do such a thing, especially this night, a gratitude dinner held in Fedor’s honor.

“I didn’t really do anything,” Fedor defended as he looked around at all the exaggerated decorations.

“What are you talking about? You took a bullet for him.” She gestured to his cast, but he swatted her away as if it were nothing.

When Yakov entered the room, all her emotions were churning in a chaotic tornado. He walked right up to Fedor and shook his hand. Pictures were snapped, and a round of applause ignited the crowd. Afterward, Yakov gave a speech about Fedor’s quick movements that saved his life, and as a gesture of gratitude, Fedor was now his right-hand man. The shock on Fedor’s face was comical, but he came up and thanked him.

“I did what any one of us would have done for you, Mr. Mozorov.”

“Yakov,” Yakov corrected. “Please.”

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