Page 3 of The Bratva King's Auctioned Bride

Though I’d moved to the States to take over California almost ten years ago, I still had family and a vast network in Russia. It would have been easy to forget all about Los Angeles and what I’d achieved there, and that was exactly what my advisors and my cantankerous old uncle wanted me to do.

Concentrate on the riches and power I still had, and give up on what I’d left behind. Except, I didn’t give up easily, especially not when the people I despised thought they’d emerged victorious. Because I didn’t lose, either. No matter how many men I commanded here in Moscow and how much wealth I had achieved even while overseeing from afar, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

And I liked the weather in Southern California, damn it. My reign wasn’t over, there, not by a long shot. However, I was willing to bide my time for now, for however long it took to lull the Fokins into a false sense of complacency. As soon as they gave up and thought I’d rolled over and was no longer a threat to them, that was when I’d swoop in and completely destroy them.

For real, this time.

I might have jumped the gun once, made a few strategic errors, but the war was far from over. I would rise again, victorious.

Smothering a yawn, I signed off on the latest document from my uncle, who had been running things for me since I moved to America. I let Eldar think he was in charge and knewwhat was best; most of the time, that was the case. The man had a hair-trigger temper, and it only wasted a lot of time while he kicked off his little tantrums if he didn’t get his way, so having to deal with him was yet another reason I wanted to get back to LA, where I really belonged.

Eldar had a nose for business and could make money appear out of the most desperately failing businesses, hence why I gave him so much leeway. If nothing else, he could turn straw into gold. When I returned, everything was running smoothly enough, and Eldar shifted back into the second-in-command position with only a little bit of acrimony. Now, it was like I had never left.

A draft from the windows slid past me, making me scowl at the dim back room of one of Eldar’s bars and his favorite spot for meetings. A bleak gray sky was visible above the empty parking lot outside, and a sudden, fresh gust of wind made the pane rattle, despite it being late summer. It was a far cry from the high-rise office building where I took my meetings in LA, where the sun blazed so brightly at certain times of the day that I had to lower the automatic shutters or be blinded. No risk of that here.

The best news of the day drew me back into the meeting, relegating memories of sunny afternoons to the background. After weeks of negotiations, we had just secured a huge shipment of weapons that would make me another fortune when they were all distributed on the black market. I remained as cool as a marble statue on the outside, nodding briskly as I signed.

I was rich, in control—at least to the people in the room with me. Underneath the careful facade I had constructed was a pit of snakes, writhing with fury. So much of what I had worked for had been stolen from me, and no matter what wisdom Eldar and my other advisors tried to impart, I was nowhere near calm.

My enemies had what was mine. I was leading them on a merry chase across continents, trying to find me, and while that was amusing, it wasn’t enough. Biding my time was beginning to be tedious. While it had only been a month, I was getting antsy for the perfect opportunity to make my rivals pay, and for me to regain my place in LA.

After the meeting wound to a close, I headed out, ready to blow off steam at a more upscale place than Eldar’s dingy bar. As I was reaching for my car door, my phone rang. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I saw it was my brother, and I almost ignored the call. Only two years younger than me, Kolya and I had never been close, and that was an understatement.

We were as different as night and day—as Los Angeles and Moscow’s weather. After our parents split, he’d been raised by our flighty mother, who indulged his every whim and made him believe he was untouchable in any endeavor he undertook. The way he threw money and favors around had kept him from getting the ass-kicking, which I firmly believed was well overdue.

As the oldest, I was taken under my stern and unyielding father’s wing, raised to take over our family business. After Papa had died when I was only twenty-two, I had been far too busy to bother with my mother’s attempts at a reconciliation between us, and now Kolya and I were virtually strangers.

He’d wanted to go his own way, lazing around in Italy and running scams on wealthy fools, and while he’d never once gone against me or my organization, I only considered him family because of our shared last name.

Which, apparently, he’d stopped using recently, so not even that.

No, my younger brother was the last person I usually wanted to speak with, but my impatient mood made me accept the call. Why not take it out on little bro?

“What?” I snapped, putting the phone on speaker and leaning back in the leather seat. Uncle Eldar stuck his head out of the side door, and I waved absently.

“Oh, what a surprise, you’re in a bad mood,” Kolya said. “But not for long.”

“I highly doubt you could tell me anything to improve my mood.”

He snickered, and informed me he’d been spending the last few months in Milan, raking in the bucks by his usual means. I started wishing I hadn’t answered and interrupted him when he told me he’d seen something I’d be interested in.

“You aren’t trying to run one of your art scams on me, are you?” I asked incredulously. “I swear to God, if you say you’ve found a never-before-discovered Goya, and you’re giving me a first shot—”

“Shut up and listen,” he interrupted. “And you’ll be flying down here in no time.”

Okay, I needed some sunshine, and the chance to clip my brother in the jaw was an added incentive. If he wasn’t careful, he’d get his wish. “Get on with it, then,” I snapped.

“It just so happens I have discovered a hidden treasure here in my new neighborhood,” he said. Yep, he was definitely getting hit the next time I saw him. “But it’s not a rare piece of art. It’s your arch-rival’s baby sister.”

Everything went still around me until I remembered who was giving me this news. “How the fuck do you know anything about that?”

“If you spent more time with Mama, you’d know how she loves to gossip—and how much she loves you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, reaching for the phone to end the call.

“Mila Fokin,” he said. “She’s in Milan. I can prove it.”

A second later, an alert for a photo popped up on my screen. A moment after that, I was staring at none other than the youngest Fokin sibling, standing next to someone who’d been blurred out.

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