Luerna got up and laid the baby in the second bassinet. She kept her back to Levka. Her pride was destroyed in these terrible moments. She didn’t want anyone to witness her breaking. She hated him for it and wanted to get away. Luerna wiped the stupid tears off her face, took a deep breath, and turned around to face him. “I’m sure your father is looking for you, Mr. Borisyuk. Let me escort you back to the office.”
Levka kept standing there as if he was disappointed in her response. Then he nodded and stepped back. “I know my way. Excuse me, Mrs. Morozov.”
Levka left the room, but as soon as he was in the hall, he paused and leaned against the wall.
Being in love with Luerna Morozov was a ridiculous thing to be. She was ten years his elder, married, and had four children. Nothing there had sparked any hope in ever getting her to himself. It began as a stupid teenage crush, only increasing as the years went on. Now, it was more of an infatuation. One he needed to destroy.
But he did the worst thing he could possibly do.
He spoke to her.
Levka ran a hand through his hair, clenching it painfully. It was physically painful to keep thinking of her. Luerna was so far out of his reach she might as well be dead.
But he had touched her. He had his hand on her wrist.
“There you are.” Alexei was coming down the hall. “Trouble in the bathroom?”
Levka snickered and pushed off the wall to approach him. “I hate these fucking meetings.”
“You and me both. And I got a bad feeling about this one. He called for Kira.”
“Kira?” Levka knew all the Morozov daughters, and Kira was the oddest of them. She wore gothic clothes and typically colored her hair. She used to hang with them as preteens, but speaking to her was like talking to an oracle. It always left him feeling awkward. He hadn’t spoken to her in four years since he left for boarding school, but he highly doubted she changed any.
Now, walking into the office, he saw Kira standing behind her father. Like him, she had changed in four years, now looking more like a picture-perfect runway model with dead eyes and a fake smile.
Alexei took a stand next to his sister. The family gene was impeccable. Yakov had seven children (one adopted), and they all had blue eyes like glacier ice. The two boys, Alexei and Adrik, had black hair like their father, while the four girls were blond like their mother, yet all physically fit and annoyingly brilliant. They were an incredible family, a picture of perfection for every Mafia Family to model after. It was not a wonder to Levka why his father did whatever he could to please the Morozovs.
Ivan and Yakov both stood up and shook hands. “Then it’s settled.”
Levka questioned. “What’s settled, Papa?”
Ivan slapped a hand on his shoulder and gestured toward Kira. Her bright eyes were full of silent bewilderment. “Meet your fiancée.”
Chapter two
Help
Levkasteppedoutontohis balcony overlooking the city of Moscow. With his arms on the railing, he stared out, listening to the random beeps from some impatient driver or the yelling of a distant argument. He had been raised in its chaos and loved it. Here, he was a king, a small one, but powerful nonetheless.
But it didn’t fill him with the same satisfaction as it used. All his control had been ripped from him since his father bartered him to the Morozovs like he was fucking car. The bitterness was overwhelming. Levka thought he wouldn’t have to marry, and now here he was stuck in a contract he couldn’t get out of. His father had told him from a young age to fuck as many women as he wanted, to have as many kids as possible like Genghis Khan. So how could he do that strapped down to a wife?
A knock on his door told him it was nearly time to go.
Tonight was a birthday party for Rurik, Luerna’s deadbeat husband. Since Levka’s father was trying so hard to gain favor with the Morozovs, there was no skipping this ridiculous event.
Levka dressed in a light gray suit with a purple undershirt and matching pocket square. His wolf tattoo crawled up his neck, and he slipped on his family ring, more embarrassed than proud.
He begged to get out of the contract, but his father heard nothing. Apparently, his son’s happiness was no longer important. Levka ignored his father this last month; no matter how hard Ivan tried to butter up his son, he wouldn’t be swayed. No amount of material items could make this better, but the new Rolex did look nice on his wrist.
They arrived at the ballroom. The extravagance was beyond ridiculous. Yakov had old money, money from his father’s father’s father. They owned Russia right down to its core. Nothing was built without Morozov’s approval, and nothing would be destroyed without it either. Levka’s family had always been in the Morozov Empire, but never important enough to gain Yakov’s attention.
Until now.
It would be incredibly stupid to screw up a partnership with them. Levka felt invisible chains strapped to his ankles, put there while his father smiled.
There were dozens of political representatives in the room, and Ivan leaned into his ear. “Look at this. He has everyone in his pocket.” The jealousy in his father’s tone was comical. The Borisyuk family was wealthier than half of Russia, but Ivan had a specific goal: to overrun the Stephanovs. The main family went to America a year ago. Since then, the Borisyuks and the remaining Stephanovs have been at war, but with Morozov’s help, the Borisyuks would officially own Moscow.
Levka left his father mid-sentence, ignoring his hiss of disapproval. He searched for the sons of Bosses. Though he hadn’t been to an event like this in years, not much had changed except everyone was a little taller, and a little more narcissistic.
