Page 42 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

It’s not comfortable in the slightest. Still, I manage to doze off to the even sound of Arya’s breathing and the smell of her shampoo.

When I wake up, I start driving again. The sun is dipping low in the sky before we finally start seeing signs for Chicago.

“I can’t wait until this shit is over,” I grumble. “Making this drive too many times is going to kill me.”

“You think there’s a real chance that will happen?”

“That this will kill me?” I ask. “If the terrible drivers here are anything to go by, neither of us is long for this world.”

“No, I mean—” Arya swallows nervously. “You think your brother can make it so we won’t be on the run anymore?”

I grip the wheel and stare straight ahead at the road. I’ve tried not to think about seeing my brother too much since we left. Because every time I do, I can’t help but feel I’m wasting my time.

“I think my brother has the power to give me what I need,” I say diplomatically.

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I admit. “Because your question is a tough one to answer. With a lot of history.”

“So, tell me. And don’t say, ‘It’s a long story.’ We still have another few hours before we get there and I’ve been doing all the talking. It’s your turn to fill in the silence.”

No one has ever had the audacity to talk to me the way Arya does. It should infuriate me. I should threaten to backhand her for even thinking about giving me a command.

But I can’t bring myself to care when it’s her.

I like that she talks to me like a person. That I feel, for a minute, like the title ‘Don’ fades away. I’m not in charge of the life and death of men anymore. I’m not a titan, not a kingpin.

I’m just Dima.

Maybe that’s why I tell her the story.

“Ilyasov is my older brother,” I begin. “My parent’s firstborn son.”

“But you’re the one who took over after your father?” she asks.

“Astute,” I say with a humorless smile. “That is the crux of our problems, yes. My brother was irresponsible. Unprepared. He didn’t mature as quickly as he should have and he wasn’t ready to be a good leader in the way I was. He wasn’t ready to work for what he wanted.”

“So your father rewarded you.”

“At my brother’s expense.”

Arya turns to me, eyebrows furrowed.

“I thought at the time it was the right thing to do. Ilyasov was doing lots of bad shit in his younger days. Drugs. Drinking. Partying with dangerous people. I believed he’d ruin the Bratva if he was handed the keys. That he’d run it right into the ground. If he had taken over, his problems would have only gotten worse. I’ve seen it happen a hundred times. Men get money and power and their vices eat them alive. My brother wouldn’t have survived the year. So I told my father about what Ilyasov did when he thought no one was looking.”

“Does your brother know you did that?”

I shake my head. “I’ve never told him. I don’t plan to. It wouldn’t have changed anything, anyway. My father already knew. He just wanted to test me and see if I’d tell him the truth.”

“Well then, it seems to me, if your brother should be mad at anyone, it should be your father. Your father chose you over him. It wasn’t your doing.”

“Ilyasov expected more loyalty from me. I think, in his perfect world, I would have refused my father on principle and left the family with him. Maybe we’d be running his mafia together or something like that. I don’t know, but he didn’t expect me to accept the position over him. Not after I spent the previous eighteen years at his side night and day. We were best friends… until we weren’t.”

Arya clicks her tongue. “I’m so sorry. That’s sad.”

“It’s fine. You had it worse than I did.”

Arya shrugs. “Things like that are hard to quantify. No two traumas are the same.”

---