The radio automatically starts playing when the call ends, and I flick it off. I like to think in silence. And I’ve got a lot to think about. Sure, I could ask my brothers-in-law for support when it comes to tackling the issue with my father. But the truth is, I feel it’s more important for me to establish my own power. I need to build my own alliances and prove that I have this under control myself.
That’s why I’m on my way home early this afternoon.
I have three very important calls to make from the privacy of my home office. A call to each of the strongest Bratva leaders who were my father’s biggest rivals. Three men who each had their own reasons to hate my father and would probably savor the opportunity to ally with me against him.
I’ve done my homework on each of them. I’m confident I have developed the right approach in speaking with them.
Benedikt Ronkov, whom I’ve met on a number of occasions, should be the easiest man to get on board. He’s reasonable, levelheaded, and calm. From what I know about him, he’s a mediator of sorts. I imagine the call with him will go smoothly.
Kazimir Petrov will take a little more negotiation. He’s less focused on politics and business, more of an adventurer, into the money and power for the carefree lifestyle they allow him. He parties hard and rebels against pretty much any rule someone tries to impose on him. When negotiating with him, I’ll have to play it cool and somehow make it sound less like work and more like a team game.
The last Bratva leader is going to be the most challenging. Artur Stevansko. On the rare occasion I’ve crossed his path, he’s always been elusive. Dark, brooding, cold, and temperamental, his sarcastic nature makes him hard to read. He’s opinionated and arrogant.
But I need him on the team. I need all three of them. So I’m going to have to find a way to make it work.
I’m hoping that on the call this afternoon, I can figure out what he wants and offer it. I just hope what he wants is doable. Men like him, angry and tainted from a dark past, often forego logic in lieu of standing up for some jaded, self-centered view.
My jaw is clenched, tugging at the muscles that run up the back of my neck to my skull. If I don’t get these calls over with soon, it’s going to give me a migraine thinking about them.
When I drive through the massive security gates of my mansion north of Montrose Beach, the guards nod politely and gesture that everything is going smoothly.
No sign of my father.
The short trip between the car and the mansion is another furnace that threatens to melt the skin off my body.
As soon as I’m inside and the door is shut behind me, I peel off my jacket and throw it over the back of a chair in the open-plan kitchen. Tugging open the fridge door, I stand in front of it, letting cold air waft over me while I roll up my sleeves and decide what I feel like drinking.
Homemade lemonade. The chef knows me well. Picking up the jug, I carry it to the counter and fetch a glass from the cabinet. The first glass I pour is gone in three seconds. The second glass I’ll savor.
Up in my office, overlooking the back garden and my swimming pool, I set my drink on a coaster and sit down at my desk.
I take one deep breath and clear my mind before I dial Benedikt.
“Who is this?” he asks politely when he answers.
“Benedikt, it’s Joseph Gregori. I was wondering if you had a moment to talk?”
“I do, just give me a second, and I’ll step into my office for some privacy.”
As predicted, Benedikt is a reasonable and friendly man who is eager to join an alliance against my father. He immediately sees the mutual benefit of the offer and accepts it.
Kazimir Petrov was more challenging, but ended the negotiation with “Oh, fuck it, what have I got to lose, let’s do it.”
Two down, one to go.
Dialing Artur, my tension is higher, and I can feel the muscles over my shoulders are tight.
“Joseph Gregori, now why would you be calling me?” he answers.
“Artur, I was hoping we could speak,” I say.
“Well, curiosity drives me to say yes. But make it quick, I’m a busy man.”
I sneer, agitated by his rudeness.
“I’ll get straight to the point, then. This is connected to my father and our mutual dislike of the man,” I say. “I’ve just gotten off the line with Kazimir and Benedikt, and they’ve agreed to the offer I’m about to make you,” I explain.
“You called me last, how telling. Either I’m your least favorite, or you saved the best for last,” he huffs.
