Page 29 of Savage Boss

“Here take this.”

Vlad shoved his phone between his ear and shoulder and reached out to take his son from Jane’s outstretched hands. He may as well make himself useful since he’d been on hold with Romanoff’s office for the past twenty-five minutes. Joseph’s scent immediately wafted to Vlad’s nostrils, relaxing him. The bag Jane was holding made a loud thunk as she dropped it onto the floor. She crouched next to the desk and started digging through the bag. Vlad chuckled as her hand appeared over the edge of the desk and dropped a handful of baby stuff onto the surface.

After several minutes of rummaging, her raven head popped up again. She pulled herself to her feet and began laying out a change table right there on his desk. Vlad had to admit, it warmed his heart to see Jane doing something patently domestic with the skilled efficiency of a drill sergeant.

Vlad was so focused on the way Jane’s hands flashed, wiggled and moved as she rolled open the changing cloth and lined up the fresh diaper, baby powder and wipes in the order she would need them that he barely noticed when the head of the Russian Bratva answered his phone.

“Vladimir, zdravstvuyte,” the old man greeted him, his voice a rusty drawl.

Vlad felt a moment of homesickness. It wasn’t the voice of Romanoff; the old man would sell his own grandchildren if it furthered his ambitions. No, it was the formal guttural Russian greeting that made Vlad long for his Russian homeland.

“Romanoff, zdravstvuyte,” Vlad returned the greeting. “You are in good health?”

The man was 92 and had been through so many surgeries, treatments and replacements, that there was little left on his body that actually belonged to him.

“Da, as healthy as a boy,” the older man grunted. “You done fucking around in the new country, ready to come home to mother Russia? A loyal soldier like you could be highly rewarded under my employ.”

Vlad thought seriously about Romanoff’s offer. A position at his side would not only set Vlad for life, giving him more money than he could spend in a lifetime and providing protection for his family, but it would allow him to move back to the home that had been calling him for two decades. Vlad hadn’t been exiled by the Bratva, but there was a clear message that he shouldn’t come back unless invited. This was his invitation.

“While I thank you for your consideration, I must refuse,” Vlad said with some regret. Jane gave Vlad a sharp look as she took the baby from his arms and laid him out on the blanket on the desk. “Your offer is tempting, but I have carved out a life for myself here.”

“If you come back to Moscow, you will never again know a moment of strife. You will stand next to the head of the most powerful family in the country. Once I pass, my son will succeed me, and he will need a trusted soldier and advisor to carry him.”

“It pains me to refuse, Romanoff, but my small kingdom is still a kingdom. If I were to take your offer, I would no longer be king, and I must admit the position is too good to give up.” It was the only thing Vlad could say that wouldn’t come across as ungrateful for refusing Romanoff’s offer.

Romanoff chuckled, the sound a rusty grating. “You always did want the power more than the money. Alright then, boy, why are you calling me? You need some kind of favour?”

Vlad watched his wife as she changed Joseph’s diaper like it was a case that needed solving, going through each step with deep concentration, while still training her ear to Vlad’s side of his phone call. She was absorbing every word. It was uncomfortable, knowing his opinionated little wife would interrogate him the moment he got off the phone, but he’d agreed to share this part of his life with her.

“Da, I want permission to remove Petrov,” Vlad said bluntly, his eyes on Jane’s bent head, which came up quickly. Her eyes met his, a combination of anger and worry in their pretty depths.

“I was afraid it would come to this,” the old man grunted. “You realize what you are asking Sitnikov? The Petrov family is an old one with many powerful allies. If the Bratva sanctioned his removal, then his allies will become our enemies. This is a big thing to ask, my young friend.”

Vlad understood, he was essentially asking the Bratva to choose between families. Petrov had a longer history with the Bratva, but Vlad had taken their interests into international markets, expanded and lined the pockets of each senior member. This was the reason Romanoff would love to bring Vlad home. He wanted Vlad to transform the Romanoff family the way he’d build his own kingdom. Vlad suspected many of the old Bratva families had gone stagnant, too steeped in old traditions to move into the new century with the ease of the younger generations.

“I will make it easy for you,” Vlad said, his voice dropping a few degrees. Jane’s eyes flashed to his, her sharp intelligence reflected there as she deciphered his conversation. “If you choose not to sanction my request, I will be forced to go ahead anyway. The man is here in my city, on my territory after being warned not to step foot on this continent.”

Romanoff pondered Vlad’s declaration, thinking carefully over what he would say next. The consequences of either choice was clear; if the Bratva backed Romanoff, they would make an enemy of Vladimir Sitnikov, the most powerful Russian in North America. However, if they backed Sitnikov, they risked potential blowback from Petrov’s extended family and allies.

Jane finished with Joseph’s diaper, disposed of the wet one, and lifting Joseph up into her arms, rocked him against her chest while listening to every word Vlad said as if her life depended on it.

Romanoff spoke again, drawling slowly as if thinking out loud. “What if we agree that the Bratva knows nothing of any of this? Our phone conversation never happens, eh? You do what you need to do in America. Perhaps Petrov’s body is found, perhaps not. If his allies want reparations, the Bratva knows nothing of what happened, but we will not agree to remove you. We will not back you, but we won’t come after you either.”

Vlad could see his expression reflected in the rising alarm on Jane’s face. He was coldly furious. He’d done everything the Bratva had ever asked of him. He was funneling unimaginable wealth their way. He sent his own loyal soldier, Boris, back to the motherland to pick up his mantle of power and take his place at the Bratva table. Vlad had left Russia when they asked. He’d never once asked anything of them, except for this. He wanted them to sanction the death of a man who had clearly announced to the entire Bratva his intention of taking Sitnikov down.

“No,” Vlad said clearly. “If you refuse this request, you will lose your North American ally.”

He didn’t need to explain what this would mean, what a devastating blow it would be for the Bratva to lose their foothold overseas.

Vlad was surprised when Romanoff began chuckling. Was he amused by Vlad’s ultimatum?

“Good for you, boy. I think you are ready for your place at the table, da? I will speak to the others, but it is as good as yours. You have made a power move we cannot refuse and perhaps shaken up the old guard once more. You have our blessing. Remove Petrov on your own timeline; we will not interfere. If asked, we will acknowledge our sanction and deal with the fallout.”

“Spasibo, you have my gratitude.”

And Vlad did feel grateful. Hell, he felt downright emotional. He hadn’t known he craved the approval of the regime he’d grown up in, yet the approval felt like he was being welcomed back home with open arms.

“Do not disappoint us,” Romanoff said sternly and then abruptly hung up.

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