I bit my tongue when Mikhail came into the room, though I still wasn't sure why he was here. He was not a head of the family. If he was here, there was no reason for Pavel, Kostya, and the others not to be here as well.
Setting my annoyance aside, I had to admit that Mikhail had proven himself worthy and loyal. But there was a difference between proving you were good enough to be part of thefamily and marrying the only Ivanov daughter without offering something in return.
There was nothing I could do about that now, but I could correct the course the family was currently on.
My nephews had forgotten their place.
I had put far too much trust in them. That was my mistake, and I was here to correct it. Maybe things would have been different if I had been allowed to follow my brother to America, or if I had been allowed to stay in Russia. Then my control over the family wouldn't have been so easily forgotten by these boys playing at being king.
But I had been sent to London. My role was to manage the family's legitimate financial empire while my brothers handled the more visible arms of the syndicate.
Had their sons continued in their stead, I'd still be in London, instead of wallowing in the stench of greed, desperation, and piss that only the American capital could be saturated with so completely.
"I am here because you failed," I said, keeping my temper under control.
Gregor had clearly forgotten what control looked like. It was time someone reminded him.
He stalked back, curled his hands into fists, and braced them on the table as he leaned forward. "I have not failed," he spat. "We are?—"
"Distracted," I cut him off. "You have become distracted and weak. Did you think I didn't know you let a senator, a woman, lie to your face? You are sending a message to the world that the Ivanov name means nothing, and I will not stand for it."
"I am the head of?—"
"Nothing," I said.
My control was absolute. I did not raise my voice; there was no need. A man who had to yell and flail his arms about was not a man in control of anything.
"You forget your place. I am the head of this family. I have allowed you to take your father's position here, but you still answer to me."
I looked at his cousin Artem. "As do you. Since you have forgotten our arrangement, allow me to remind you. Gregor is supposed to run the business here. He is supposed to deal with arms trafficking and less-than-legal arrangements with the United States government. Artem, you are supposed to run the same operations in Russia. And both of you answer to me because I am the head of this family."
Both men stared at me with fury in their eyes, jaws clenched, but they didn't say a word because they knew I was right.
"I have allowed you leeway, I have given you grace and trusted your decisions. But you have taken advantage of my kindness. No more."
"You know why I left Russia," Artem said.
To go after Kostya, his brother, who’d also disobeyed orders and gone after a woman. Yet another example of how far things had gotten out of control within our syndicate.
"I do." I nodded. "I also know that you did that without permission, without even considering the ramifications of what you were leaving behind while you came over here to try and steal your cousin's territory."
"I didn't come here to steal?—"
"Save your lies and your excuses for someone with the patience to listen to them. You came here to steal your cousin's territory because he was weak. He was distracted. He lost himself between the legs of a woman and never got himself back out. That's why I allowed it. Because if Gregor wasn't manenough to keep his territory, then he didn't deserve it. But then what did you do?"
Gregor surged forward. His chair clattered backward, hitting the floor with a crack. "You'll speak about my wife with respect," he snarled.
Mikhail was on his feet instantly, positioning himself between Gregor and me. His hand was on Gregor’s chest, holding him back.
Cold. Calculating. Loyal to his wife's family but clearly displeased.
“Hands off. I’m fine.” Gregor's command was sharp, but his eyes were on me. Furious.
Gregor shook Mikhail off but didn't advance. His chest heaved, hands flexing at his sides like he was imagining them around my throat.
"You fell into the same fucking trap," I continued, casting my gaze over at my next target, Artem, as if the interruption hadn't occurred. My voice remained level, dispassionate. Bored, even. "You met a pretty girl and became totally whipped."
I scoffed. "You both forgot that your marriages were supposed to be strategic moves and not love matches. Then you went off and let that family-less, penniless mongrel marry my niece."
