Page 8 of Dark Bratva Christmas
“I see your reputation for calculation is accurate.” He pulls his lips into a tight line and nods his head. “The Vitales are not the sharpest, but maybe they’re foolish enough to think they could pit us against each other to stop the marriage.”
“Maybe.”
“Two rival families all gathered together for the first time in decades must have been a damn good opportunity,” Boris says through gritted teeth. “Mauricio Vitale is a bold man. He has a lot to live up to in his father’s shadow, and this is the kind of move that would earn the family’s respect. Nothing worse than being a goddamned Italian mutt in the Bratva world.”
I don’t bother to join his speculation. I don’t give a fuck about mutts or pure bloods. I just care about giving whoever killed my brother a slow, prolonged death.
My mind runs back to the image of Mikhail on the floor, bleeding out at his own wedding. His final words to me as he took his last breath. My blood runs hot, and I feel my chest rising and falling with anger.
“We need a better plan,” I grit out. “Playing detective like this, questioning everyone without putting them under the knife—it’s not my forte.”
“Spilling more blood isn’t the answer.” Boris shakes his head, and I narrow my eyes at him.
“Spilling blood is theonlyanswer in many cases.” I shake my head. All these old timers have gone fucking soft.
“And you’ll have your blood in time,” Boris assures me, taking a few steps closer. “Right now, we need to send a message—towhoeveris behind this.”
I hesitate, raising a brow. “And that is?”
“We stick together.” Boris pauses and looks at me, scrutinizing my expression. He’s waiting for me to explode, to have some kind of reaction to this bullshit of an idea.
I don’t give it to him.
“And what benefit does this have for me?” I narrow my eyes at him and crack my jaw. “If you wanted to play nice, you’d have called my father to this meeting. Not me. Everyone knows where I stand.” I lean forward, towering over him. “I havenointention of being your friend,Petrov.”
He chuckles, his icy eyes holding mine. “Which isexactlywhy you’re the one who needs to send the message. I’ve already agreed to share my shipping territory. We aremorepowerful as allies than as enemies—and the Vitalesaregetting stronger. Once the bastard connects his blood to the don of the Accardos, we’ll be fucking toast.”
My stomach knots up at that. “What do you mean?”
“Mauricio is Jon Accardo’s bastard son,” Boris leans in. “That means that in the long game, he could pit the Dons against the Pakhans. Is that really what you want? To come up against Italian fucking slime?”
“He’d never.”
“And I’dneverconsider an alliance with you if it didn’t benefit our businessesandprotect us. Your brother's death has left both of us vulnerable. If we fall into fighting each other again, the sharks will strike. Maybe the Vitales, maybe the Morozovs.” Boris takes a few steps forward, standing only inches away from me. I can see the passion burning in his eyes. “If my blood and your blood are tied, then no one will dare strike one for fear of striking the other.”
I glare at him. “And for the sake of this, my brother died.”
“We have to show them that we stand strong regardless of their attack,” Boris continues, shaking his head at my refusal. “Mikhail died, but you're alive and well. You're the Pakhan, Matysh. What you do means something.Youshould marry my daughter.”
On, dolzhno byt', soshel s uma(He must be crazy).I shake my head and let out an incredulous laugh that only makes Boris angry. “Ni za chto(No way).”
“Ne bud' durakom(Don’t be a fool), Matysh,” Boris spits at me. His eyebrows are furrowed into a scowl as he glares at me. “It should have been you to begin with.Yousend the strongest message. Don’t let the name prevent you from getting your hands on the power.”
“The only message that’d send is a lack of my standards,” I spit back, shaking my head. “I don’t want your daughter.”
“Trust me, in due time you will. Don't let your ego get the better of you. You know as well as I do this is the only way.” Boris takes a deep breath and stares at me, his lips pressed tight together as he steps his hands back in his pockets. “Either you marry my daughter or, as much as I hate to say it, you consider this war between us. We need peace, we need each other, and if you cannot set aside your ego,youare the fool, Matysh.”
Fuck.I shake my head, every ounce of my blood screaming to pull my Glock and rid the fucking world of Boris Petrov and his rancid deals. But unfortunately…
I know exactly what my father would do. And what he’d advise. And my ability to follow that guidance is what led me to my position in the first place.
It would send a message. A stronger one than Mikhail being the one to do it.
ThePakhanof the Volkov family marrying the sole female heir of the Petrovs? That’s a fucking match made in hell, and itdoessend a message.
That I can make the Petrovs my bitch, and rail their mouthy little heiress—all while still upholding my promise to my brother. I’ll keep her safe. And miserable.
Boris smiles and extends his hand. I stare at it for a moment, knowing that once I shake his hand, it's as good as being set in stone.
