Page 77 of Immaculate Corruption (Romanoff Bratva)

Blaming Dima for all of this isn’t fair. If it wasn’t for him, I’d still be a sex slave in Taras Kreshnik’s house.

Or worse, I’d be dead and Lukas would still be with Brigitte.

Without Dima, my life would still be shit. But I just don’t know who else to blame.

If I blame myself, I’ll fall apart. Lukas needs me too much for that. So blaming Dima is the easiest option.

It’s not fair, but nothing in life is fair right now. Then again, nothing has been fair for a long, long time.

26

Dima

I call a meeting less than an hour after Arya leaves for Chicago.

“The main order of business is going to be restoring the Romanoff name. Everything Zotov did must be undone,” I say to the gathered group of my inner circle.

It should feel odd being in front of them after so long. But it doesn’t. This is where I fucking belong.

“We’ve already cut ties with the Albanians,” Eduard Vinogradov says. He is one of my lieutenants and, according to Gennady, remained completely loyal throughout the mutiny. “Though that wasn’t much of a choice. After you killed Jorik, they became suspicious of our motives.”

“Then the fentanyl is gone from our supply?”

He nods. “Nearly. We have a few more storehouses we are clearing out.”

“Make sure it’s done by the end of the week.”

“Yes, Don Dima. And sir…” He hesitates, then meets my eyes. “It goes without saying that it’s good to have you back. But there are some… structural issues we should clear up. For your sake and for ours.”

I cross my arms. “Which would be?”

“Much was said about your abilities as a leader while you were away. By Zotov and others—at the direction of your brother, I’m sure.”

“They weren’t exactly going to sing my praises.”

“Perhaps not. But the main argument was about your conviction to the Bratva. Your dedication.”

I bark out a laugh. “I risked my life to get back here, Eduard. I crawled through fucking hell to reclaim what’s mine.”

“We all know what you’ve done and we all respect it. But your… motivations have been called into question. Namely, where it concerns Aryana Georgeovich.”

“Arya,” I correct in a menacing growl. “She’s not Albanian anymore. Not in any way that matters.”

“Perhaps not,” Eduard says with a shrug, “but many within the Bratva, on both sides of the divide, are worried about whether she has softened you.”

I glance around the room. It’s hard to get a feel for the others. If they agree. If they think I’m weak.

Time to remind them of who the fuck I am.

“I killed Jorik Bogdanovich. Giorgio and Ennio D’Onofrio. Zotov Stepanov. I slaughtered countless numbers of their men along with them.” I glare from man to man. “Have you all forgotten who Dima Romanoff is? Have you forgotten what I’m fucking capable of?”

Eduard sighs. “No one has forgotten your pedigree,patsan. But that doesn’t mean every Bratva man is willing to throw their lot back in with yours right away. Some are saying they want their trust to be earned.”

“Whose trust?” I demand. “Yours?”

Eduard lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “Everyone’s. The Bratva is on shaky ground right now. We are fighting on all fronts. Including on the inside. All of these adversaries have to be dealt with and the men want to make sure you are the right person to do that. The Trials would go a long way to prove you’re the right leader for the job.”

“How did you know about the Trials?” I demand, glancing to Gennady. He shakes his head, indicating to me that he never told.

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