Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
The four kings, aka the brigadiers, occupy the rest of the chairs: Damien, the old man Igor, Kirill, and the motherfucker Mikhail.
The latter glares at me and I glare back, unblinking. Despite being old himself, a bit younger than Sergei, he still stands tall and his blue eyes are piercing to a fault. I have no doubt he’s the one who suggested marrying Anastasia off, probably to one of his sons, who are more loathsome than he is.
That asshole is in charge of the most despicable part of the Vory, the one I’ve been actively trying to eradicate: the prostitution ring.
He wants me gone because I boldly suggested in front of Dedushka that the brotherhood doesn’t need the prostitution ring, that we’re wasting effort on that part when we can secure better money from V Corp.
Mikhail has wanted me dead since then. He’s the one who backed Ivan, my mom’s cousin, to become Pakhan and kill me off. If he thinks I would ever forget about that, he must not know our last name at all.
“What are you doing here?” he snarls, as expected.
I ignore him, take Granduncle’s hand, kiss his wrinkled knuckles, and lift it to my head. This is how all the members of the Vory greet their Pakhan. I might not have an official title or position, but I’m one of the pillars keeping this organization standing whether they like to admit it or not.
Behind every member of the elite stands their best boyevik, which is basically their senior soldier/bodyguard whom they trust with their lives. Usually, these leaders don’t move without a horde of soldiers, but in a meeting with the Pakhan, only one is allowed out of respect to the boss.
My senior boyevik, Ruslan, follows after me and stands behind my chair as I sit beside Damien. The latter grins down at me in that snakelike way. I smile back and don’t bother to hide that it’s fake.
He’s not only a slippery slope; he’s also reckless as hell. Damien is the type of king who orders hits on other crime families within our territories if they’ve disrespected us in any way. He says it’s to teach them to bow their heads when the brothers are around. His violent nature and unsatiated ambition have always kept him on my ‘to be wary of’ list.
Kirill clears his throat from his position opposite me. He has a physique similar to Vlad’s, bulk-wise, but he’s more calm like Adrian, probably due to the camouflage he excels at. His black-framed glasses make him appear sharp, smart, but they don’t hide the intensity of his foxlike eyes. I smirk internally. I have something on that sucker, so now he can’t open his mouth and agree with Mikhail’s statement.
“Do you have something for us, Miss Sokolov?” Igor asks in his serene, but very noticeable Russian accent. He’s also as old as Sergei but appears younger because he’s healthy and still actually works out with his soldiers. Igor’s brigade is the most closed off and family-like. They would go to war for him with their eyes blindfolded if they had to. After Dedushka’s death, he was one of those who helped me put Sergei in power, but he’s also a traditionalist and sexist like the rest of them. He’d never bow down to a woman.
“Yes, Miss Sokolov. To what do we owe this pleasure?” Damien waggles his brows at me. Although both his parents are Russian, he is American born and bred, and therefore, he speaks without an accent most of the time.
They talk in English around me because they think I’m that ‘American’ who doesn’t belong with them even though I have proven again and again that I’m as much Russian as they are.
“Yes,” I say in Russian, looking at Granduncle. “I will report V Corp’s numbers for the last trimester as well as projection for future net profit.”
“You can do that in the company.” Mikhail doesn’t hide his aggression. “You have no place among the Vory, Rayka.”
I grit my teeth at the disrespectful way he used a nickname, but I plaster a smile on instead.
Kill them with kindness, Rai. Don’t weaken Sergei.
“I beg to differ, Mikhail.” I reach into my bag and retrieve my report, then start listing the numbers. After I finish, I interlace my fingers on the table and stare at him with so much dispassion I feel my face turning stone cold. “Last I checked, your brothels don’t bring in half what I do. Last I checked, a member’s worth is measured by how much he or she brings into the organization. Maybe we should double-check who belongs in the Vory and who doesn’t.”
He stands up, his round frame nearly bouncing with the effort, and points a finger at me. “You little—”
“Sit down,” Vlad orders. “Show respect to your Pakhan, Kozlov.”