Page 34 of The Bratva's Sextuplets
“That she doesn’t know her place and letting her into the conference room sets a dangerous precedent.” Dmitri’s clipped accent joins the conversation. “Some are wondering if you can control your own household.”
My heart suddenly feels like it’s in my throat. They’re talking about me and my involvement in the organization. Part of me wants to walk away before I hear something that will hurt, but I lean closer to the door instead.
“My wife proved her value in that meeting,” Tigran says, and there’s steel in his voice that surprises me. “Her analysis prevented us from making a costly mistake. Frankly, I had already reached the same conclusion and was about to tell you all that when she interrupted.”
“Her analysis embarrassed seasoned lieutenants who’ve served this family for decades,” Viktor counters. “Georgi hasn’t spoken to anyone since she questioned his recommendations.”
“His recommendations would have started a war we couldn’t win.” Tigran’s tone grows sharper. “My wife saw what he couldn’t, and she had the courage to speak up about it.”
“Your wife humiliated him in front of his peers,” Dmitri interjects. “In our world, that kind of disrespect has consequences.”
I press closer to the door, my pulse thrumming. They’re debating whether I’m an asset or a liability. That he’s defending me when I’m not there to hear it makes me smile in spite of a surge of fear about whatever consequences Dmitri has in mind.
“The only consequence will be better decision-making,” Tigran says firmly. “Zita brings perspectives none of us have. She sees patterns we miss because we’re too close to the situation.”
“She sees patterns in newspapers and academic journals.” Viktor’s voice carries skepticism. “That’s not the same as understanding how this business actually works.”
“She understood enough to recognize that gang warfare brings federal attention we can’t afford.” There’s pride in Tigran’s voice now, unmistakable and fierce. “She understood enough to know that maintaining political relationships requires subtlety, not violence, and she’ll learn the rest.”
My breath catches at the conviction in his tone. He’s not just tolerating it but genuinely advocating for it while defending my contributions against men who’ve been his advisors for years.
“Boss,” Dmitri says carefully, “We’re not questioning your wife’s intelligence. We’re questioning whether including her in operational discussions compromises security.”
“How does it compromise security?” asks Tigran.
“Wives talk,” Viktor says. “They share information with friends, family members, and other people who might not have our best interests at heart.”
“My wife knows how to keep her mouth shut. Her family consists of her father, who’s already our ally. Who exactly is she going to talk to?”
“It’s not about who she talks to now,” Dmitri says. “It’s about the precedent it sets. If other wives think they can demand inclusion in business matters?—”
“Other wives aren’t Zita.” Tigran’s interruption is sharp and final. “Other wives don’t have business degrees from Northwestern or the analytical skills to prevent catastrophic mistakes. I can’t think of another wife of an associate or rival who has any interest in the business. Can you?”
The warmth inside intensifies. He’s defending me specifically, acknowledging abilities that set me apart from the decorative wives mostBratvaleaders prefer.
“No, I guess I can’t. She’s different, and we understand that,” Viktor concedes, “But different doesn’t always mean better. Your father?—”
“My father is dead.” The words come out like bullets. “My father’s methods died with him. I’m building something different here that will be better.”
The room goes silent for a moment. When Viktor speaks again, his voice is careful and respectful. “What exactly are you building, boss?”
“A more stable, prosperous business,” Tigran says simply. “I’m smart enough to recognize a woman strong enough to challenge me when I’m wrong and shrewd enough to offer solutions when I’m stuck. She’ll only help make things better serving as my partner.”
“Partnerships require trust,” Dmitri says. “How can you trust someone who’s been in this world for such a short time?”
“How can I not trust someone who’s already proven her loyalty by choosing to learn our language, our customs, and our business instead of running from them?” Tigran counters. “She could have demanded living separate lives after the wedding or retreated into socialite activities and charity work. Instead, she asked to be included.”
I touch my throat unconsciously, remembering the Russian phrase I was practicing when the lesson ended. He’s noticed my efforts to learn their language and to understand their world better. The observation makes my chest constrict.
“Including her in strategy sessions is one thing,” Viktor says, “But there are other aspects of this business?—”
“That she’ll learn about when she needs to know,” Tigran finishes. “I’m not naïve, Viktor. I understand the risks, but I also understand the value of having someone I can trust completely, whose interests align perfectly with mine.”
“Do you think her interests align with yours?” Dmitri’s tone suggests doubt.
“I think her survival depends on the success of this organization,” he says after a moment. “She’s smart enough to recognize that fact and strong enough to act on it.”
The conversation shifts to other topics, covering shipping schedules, protection payments, and political contributions, but I’m no longer listening. My mind races with everything I’ve just heard and Tigran’s fierce defense of my involvement.
