Page 18 of Scarlet Vows
Then it hits me. If I agree to one year, I become the pakhan of the Belov Bratva.
So Demyan wouldn’t just be the only pakhan I trust. He’d be the only one other than myself that I trust.
I know enough women who have bratva ties, even by marriage, and I’d trust a majority of them enough to stick to a contract I draw up. But the families they’re tied to?
Not to that extent.
“Fuck,” I breathe.
Food… I need food, and I know my cupboards are bare. I pick up my phone to call my local Chinese place when it starts to vibrate.
“Okay, who died?” Isaak asks. “You called me three times. Didn’t even bother leaving a message, but three calls? Something’s happened. Spill.”
“Funny thing happened on the way to the office,” I say. “Got a call from an estate lawyer. Seems I’ve got an inheritanceand a newly dead grandfather who likes to interfere from beyond the grave.”
I pour another drink. Liquid dinners count, don’t they?
There’s street noise over the phone, but then the sound ends suddenly. I assume Isaak just crossed the street into his lobby. He says “hi” to someone, and then there’s the ding of an elevator.
“You weren’t getting ready for bed, were you?” he asks. “I just saw the time. Sorry to call so late, but work was a nightmare today. I literally just got out of my cab and home.” Liquid hits glass. “Of course, if you hang up now, I’ll have to come over and kill you.”
I laugh. “I’m not hanging up.”
“What kind of inheritance?”
I open up the folio and read out the numbers listed. “That doesn’t include properties and the like. That’s the bank account. I’m apparently heir to the Belov Bratva.”
“Holy fuck, man.” Isaak pauses. “You’re loaded. And with the bratva, too? That’s exciting. It’s about time you became the leader you’re meant to be. This is going to be great. I can help invest money and grow it, too. You’ll?—”
“Slow down, Isaak. It’s not that simple.”
“What do you mean?” he asks.
I rub my eyes and take a sip of my newest drink. “I mean it’s not simple. I think there’s a big reason my grandfather was estranged, and why my mother told me he died not long after I was born. The man’s a controlling freak in death, so I can’t even begin to imagine what he was like in life.”
Isaak’s silent for a moment. “Look, man, if you have to spend time in Russia, I’m sure we can get some lawyers on it, and then we deal with it. Or just spend time going back and forth. He had a lawyer here, so it sounds like he knew where you were. Even if the Belov family’s based mostly in Russia. US business is a good thing. The dream.”
I sigh. “If it was just that, it’d be easy. But it isn’t. The asshole?—”
“Dead asshole.”
“Dead asshole,” I say with a ghost of a smile, but then it fades. “I need to find a wife to access the inheritance.”
“I’d say put an ad up, interview women, but why do I think there’s more to it?”
“Because,” I say, “there’s more to it. My hypothetical wife needs to be someone with bratva connections.”
There’s silence. I expect protests, ingenious off-the-cuff ideas that’ll be dead in the water in minutes. Isaak’s always been an ideas guy. But he doesn’t.
He says the worst thing possible. “Alina.”
“Who?” I ask.
“You know that guy Demyan? Doesn’t he have a sister?” he asks with a healthy dose of sarcasm. “Alina’s perfect, and from your ‘who,’ I know you know I’m right.”
“I know nothing of the sort, Isaak.”
He snorts. “Bullshit. Alina is perfect. You work for her brother, she loves you, and you… Come on, man. You’ve had a crush on her for years anyway. She’s, in a word that I’ll keep repeating, perfect.”
