Page 1 of Disgraced (Russian Sinners 3)

Prologue

Sergei

Twelve years ago

“Are you sure this is smart?” Michail asked me for the hundredth time.

I was absolutely certain this was not smart. But who in the fuck was going for smart here? I still couldn’t believe Irina was marrying that damn bastard. It had only been two weeks since she ditched me. Stabbed me in my heart and my back. She must have been toying with me, stringing me along till she lined up a richer motherfucker.

“I’m doing it with or without you,” I answered him.

He has been with me for the past two years. Dimitry and Nikolai were chasing fortunes in the States, and traveled back and forth to Russia. I stayed behind for my woman. Who was now marrying the head of the Polish mafia. Nothing stroked my ego like being dumped for someone almost three times my age and many times richer than me.

Goddamn it!I was going to make her my queen. Remembering those last words she told me sent burning rage through me, making me see red. The anger seethed inside me, making my ears ring with fury.

I sped down the highway, at twice the legal limit. We left Kaliningrad, the Russian town close to the Polish border and had another two hours of driving. The wedding was taking place in Gdansk, Poland.

“I’m sorry, Sergei.” Irina didn’t sound sorry at all for tearing me in half, taking my heart and basically smashing it with a hammer. “I need someone with stability. Someone that can offer me a real last name, a legacy to carry.”

“You’re acting like my whole life has passed me by. I’m still young,” I couldn’t believe I justified myself to her. It was almost begging. “My brothers and I are working hard to make our own money.”

“I can’t plan my life on ‘ifs’.” Fuck, was she always this cruel? “I want my life to be a memorable event.”

I stared at her blue eyes and noticed for the first time how cold they were. No compassion, no honor… just greed. She didn’t care about anyone but herself.

“No woman wants to tie herself down to a man without any family,” her words echoed in my brain. “No real last name.” She actually laughed, fucking laughed when she said that!

She left me without a backward glance, her new mink coat coming down to her ankles, keeping her warm. All I felt was the cold and kept thinking how one of these days, the cold would kill me.

That damn mink coat should have been my clue she found someone to replace me. She couldn’t afford it and I didn’t buy it for her. I thought she loved me, not the material things. Obviously, I was fucking wrong.

“Sergei, slow the fuck down,” Michail pulled me back from the voices in my head. “I signed up to help you, not get killed by your reckless driving. Besides, if we die, I want to take some of those motherfuckers with us.”

He had a point there. I slowed the Maserati down. My body was itching to get there and crash the entire damn wedding. I’ll give Irina a memorable event she’ll never forget. Lying, manipulative disgrace of a woman.

I sped up again and heard Michail mutter something under his breath.

“What?” I glared at him.

“Don’t look at my pretty face,” he retorted dryly. “Watch where you are driving. I’m in the mood for beating some Polish mafia ass so I’d like to get there.”

I smiled coldly. Yes, I was in the mood for beating some Polish mafia ass too. Smuggling, dirty bastards. Irina had no idea what she got herself into.

When we got to the venue, just outside the city, I slowed down. I approached the large venue parking lot, the valet men already waiting for me to stop my vehicle for him to park it and show my invitation.

No invitation here, motherfuckers.

I waited till the last second and rammed the gas pedal to the floor, the Maserati spinning once, twice, and then it flew over the curb, crashing through the fancy white arched entrance that has been decorated in blue and pink bows and kept on going. People were running to the left and right of me, while I shifted my gears to ensure I made it all the way to the makeshift altar.

Michail sat next to me unfazed, loading his guns.

“You should have done that during our two-hour drive,” I told him. My heart beat didn’t race, my mind clear at what I wanted to do.

“I like to leave things to the last minute,” he replied calmly. “Kind of like your way of planning.”

One of these days I’d beat his ass. Not today though.

From the corner of my eye, I caught one of the men pointing the gun at Michail through the window. I grabbed his head and pushed it down. The bullet shattered the window but missed both of us.

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