Page 38 of Scarlet Vows
No wonder my mother didn’t like the old asshole.
Aleksandr Belov isn’t exactly endearing himself to me.
One thing I was shocked to read last night was that he had his base both here and in Russia, but he lived and operated things from here.
Silently, covertly, with other bratva, maybe under other names. I won’t know until I go through everything.
But Jordan Smith’s papers and notes are very detailed and precise.
The mansion, the base for the Belov Bratva in the USA, is here, operating beyond those gates.
And they’re expecting me at some point soon.
So it may as well be now.
I send Alina a text.
Me
Going to look at my grandfather’s home and meet the bratva.
Alina
Let me know how it goes. U’ll be a star.
I smile and put everything away, apart from my ID and the pass that my grandfather included for me in his will.
Yes, so nice that the man went to all this trouble to prep for me taking control but never made an effort to meet me.
I drive up to the gates and hand over the pass and my ID.
The man blinks, makes a call, and lets me through.
I’m almost shocked he didn’t pat me down.
In any other circumstance, I’d be armed, but I’m not.
A confident leader, one who has a birthright, shouldn’twalk in with a tool of war against those who are to be under his command.
Demyan isn’t armed, unless there’s a reason, at his home. And now that there are children, our weapons are locked away.
While there are no children in this mansion, I decide to enter like I’m setting foot in my home.
It’s weird I’m able to take possession of this right away, but it’s that double-edged sword meant to lure me in with luxury and hang heavily around my neck if I choose to turn my back.
Asshole is too weak a word. Too American, but it will do.
I want to keep animosity from my expression here, just in case that leak in my emotional interior world encompasses everything.
The mansion is sprawling, much bigger than I thought it would be, as are the grounds.
This is beyond a step up from my modest duplex, because itismodest. The upstairs primary bedroom is essentially the entire floor. There’s the bathroom and the small study, but it isn’t huge.
My entire place is big enough. Bigger, really, than what I need.
But when I compare them? I’ve been living in a matchbox for the past five years.
I park outside, and I cross the paved driveway onto the porch that’s too majestic to be called something so homey.
