Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83814 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
That fucking music.
There’s another reason I hate her: that god damn music. Ever since hearing it for the first time, I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. And somehow, it sounds even better now that we’re back home and she’s playing on a legitimate piano again. I drift closer to the door, my heart racing like it does every time, totally immersed and moved by her playing, and I don’t understand how she does this to me. I don’t get what’s happening.
I shouldn’t want to listen this badly. She’s going to marry another man—a man hand-picked by the pakhan himself. I know my duty, and I know I should keep my distance from her, but I can’t stop myself.
It’s like a drug. I have to listen.
I can see her in that little sweaty apartment again, topless, sweat rolling down her pink nipples, her mouth open in concentration, her eyes focused on nothing, swaying ever so slightly, her fingers moving across the keys like graceful dancers.
Beauty, pure and simple.
I want to open the door. I want to see her, desperately, badly. I’ve been staying far away from her for the last two weeks because of tis, right here, this overwhelming urge, this obsessive need. It’s ruining me and I hate it, but I still want to watch her play so badly it hurts.
“Alex? You dead or something?”
I flinch and look back. Lev’s standing nearby in the hall, frowning at me.
“Sorry, what?”
“Did you really not hear me?” He grins and gestures with his chin. “Come on, Dad wants to talk to you. You’re pretty fucking spaced out.”
“Just tired,” I tell him and tear myself away from the door to follow him back into his father’s office.
Another familiar room. If I was born in in the jewelry shop, I came of age in here, sitting with Step and his father and listening to them discuss business, strategy, everything it takes to be a good member of the Bratva.
This is where I learned duty and honor.
This is where I figured out how to be more than the worthless, beaten, bruised, ruined little rat I was before.
“Boys,” Oleg says, sounding almost warm, or as warm as he ever gets. “How are my watches?”
“I think you’re going to be happy, Otets,” Lev says and gestures for me to show him the goods.
Oleg inspects the fake Rolex with a jeweler’s loupe. “From the outside, it looks perfect,” he murmurs. “You’re sure this is fake?”
“Unless the Italians are giving us an amazing deal on the real thing.” Lev sits down and I take the chair beside him.
“I’ll have to look at the movement later, but this will pass any test at a glance.” Oleg puts the piece down and nods to himself. “I’m very pleased.”
“This is why we’re marrying Nat off to Adriano, right? Because they’ve got the best product and we’ve got the best client base.”
“Yes, among other reasons.” Oleg sits back and looks at me. If I feel anything about Nat and Adriano, I make sure it doesn’t show anywhere on my face, or else Oleg will notice.
He’s a clever bastard. Ruthless, efficient, and smart as hell. He’s difficult to please, but not shy with praise when its earned. I’ve based my world view on very hard lessons learned in his service and molded myself into the man I am today with his help.
I owe him everything and love him like the father I never had.
“I have good news for you, Alexander,” Oleg says and there’s the barest hint of a smile, which is unusual.
“We’re doing that now?” Lev asks, brightening. “I thought you wanted to wait.”
“I decided there’s no reason to hold off.”
I frown between them, suddenly on guard. “What’s going on?”
Lev’s grinning like a maniac. Where his father is normally stoic bordering on grumpy, Lev can’t hide his joy. He’s usually bubbling over with it.
“When Stepan died, he left a very big hole in our family,” Oleg says, bowing his head grimly.
Lev’s smile faltering. “God rest his soul,” he mutters.
“My younger son here has been moved into Stepan’s former position as my heir,” Oleg continues. “But that means I need to find someone to move into Lev’s role.”
My guts clench. My heart rate doubles. Sweat breaks out on the palms of my hands.
Lev’s grin returns twice as big.
“Congratulations, brother,” he says.
Oleg nods once. “Yes, I’d say congratulations are in order. From here on out, Alexander Sorokin, you will be my top brigadier, and you will be entrusted with more responsibilities and duties within our organization. Of all my men, you are the most trustworthy, competent, and reliable, and I know I’m making the correct choice.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. I stare between these two men, a father figure and a friend I think of as a brother, and I can’t find the words.