Page 120 of Arranged Control
Alina
Three Months Later
The whole housesmells like cigar smoke.
It’s always like this when the full bratva leadership gets together, which isn’t often for obvious reasons. A meeting like this is a ripe target for enemies.
Which is why about ten dozen armed men are lurking around the property.
I pace in the hallway outside the conference room. I hear the murmur of Russian and English leaking out from under the door. Seamus watches me, his face very calm, arms crossed over his chest.
“You know, unless I knew better, I’d say you’ve never done this before,” he comments.
I give him a look. “Hilarious.”
“Come on, you’re just about to establish the new Pakhan of the Morozov Bratva. No big deal at all. Happens once a generation.”
“You’re not helping.”
He gestures for me to come over. I lean up against his shoulder and try to steady myself. I’m in an uncomfortable power suit, heels a little too high for my liking, hair slicked back and dangerous looking. I’m going for a mix of chic and womanly. Too feminine and the men won’t respect me. Too masculine and they’ll think I’m trying to take power myself.
Not an easy balance. But then nothing’s been easy ever since my father died.
Except for this.
I breathe in Seamus’s smell. I let him hug me, and that helps calm me down a little bit. Through it all, he’s been my rock. He’s been my everything.
“You know, you could name whoever you want in there,” he says very softly.
“Yeah? So what?”
“I bet there are men who would happily take on the title of Pakhan while giving the real power over to a strong woman like you.”
I glance up at him. “Seriously?”
“Plenty of relationships work like that.” He shrugs, grinning widely. “What? I have personal experience.”
I sigh and lean my head back against the wall. “I don’t think I’d enjoy being the power behind the throne.”
“I’m just saying you could. You’d make a good leader. At least, a good puppet master. Your tits are too nice to be Pakhan.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
I close my eyes. I picture all the work I’ve done to get to this moment. The negotiations. The hours spent in the hospital helping Taras with his physical therapy. The egos to soothe. The bribes, the gifts, the promises.
“I’m sure.”
“Good.” Seamus kisses me softly. “Then go fucking own them, baby.”
I stand up straight and nod to myself. I adjust my jacket, smooth my pants, and take a deep breath. I get a lungful of cigar smoke, cough a little, and fuck it, I shove straight into the room.
The sound of men talking and laughing is like a blast of cold water. There are thirteen generals spread out in the room, some standing around the bar cart drinking vodka, others sitting at the table, also drinking vodka. These are the most respected and powerful members of the Bratva. Some came from across the country and a few are from overseas.
“Hey,balbesy, the meeting’s getting underway,” Viktor Morozov calls out. He’s a cousin of mine and one of my closest allies on the council.
The men watch as I walk to the head of the table. Yuri Volkov is sitting there, but he quickly stands and gives up the position with a nod and a wink. Another ally. We rehearsed this moment the night before. I shake his hand, and he sits to my left as the rest of the men gather around.
