Viktor, taking his place at the head of the table, answered, “They are okay. With the number of times you ask after him, your name might be the first one he knows-before Mikhail and Konstantin.”
“That’s not happening,” I negated from my seat to Viktor’s right.
“Well, we’ll see, brother,” Roman uttered, shrugging.
Yuri came in then, greeting and taking the seat to my right, opposite Roman.
“Sergei should be here any minute,” Viktor informed.
“If he hasn’t taken the liberty to do what he calls driving,” Roman added, making me chuckle.
“Sorry I kept you waiting,” Sergei stated, marching into the meeting room, briefcase in hand.
His blue eyes reflected wisdom sharpened by experience, and his 6’1” slim frame made him look even younger than he really was.
“Good morning, Sergei,” Viktor greeted, and we all followed suit as the grey-haired man settled into the seat to Viktor’s left.
Sergei Ivanov was a Bratva elder. As one of the soldiers who worked the closest to our late father, he was one of the few people we trusted. He was no longer in active service but kept to recording and researching through the many channels still available to him.
“We were just wondering if you drove yourself,” I revealed, my tone light.
“You’d better keep wondering because I won’t be answering that,” he replied, humor clear in his voice as he brought out some papers from his leather briefcase.
“Back to business,” Viktor declared, his expression serious.
Sergei cleared his throat once before speaking.
“Giovanni Moretti died in a hit. An ambush, really. But it was not sudden or unexpected. For months, Giovanni had been skimming from weapons deals with our rivals.”
“The Irish mob?” Roman inquired, a slight, confused frown on his face.
“Yes,” Sergei confirmed. “They warned him. Severely. But he didn’t take heed. He walked into an ambush that they set for him. We had nothing to do with the ambush. But we didn’t stop it, either. We let him fall because he had already double-crossed. He had become a liability to the Lobanov Bratva.”
“But why would Giovanni feel the need to do something like that? The Morettis have never been involved in double dealings,” Roman expressed.
“I can’t say it’s so surprising. I mean, Marco Moretti has been in heavy debt from gambling and his reckless deals. He was probably trying to help his father out,” I disclosed.
“Aside from his gambling debts, Marco is our debtor,” Yuri divulged.
“What?” I asked.
“He owes us millions. I also found out he’s been quietly working with the Caruso family for a while now,” Viktor divulged.
“He’s betraying us?!” I questioned, surprised at all the new information about the bastard Marco.
“Yes. I didn’t want to make it public when I found out,” Viktor answered. “But it’s now time for retribution. Mikhail, since Giovanni was in your fold, you’ll take it up.”
“Okay,” I agreed.
“He can’t go scot-free while owing us millions,” Roman added.
“Marco won’t pay just like that,” Viktor warned. “The Moretti name is stained.”
“Then, I’ll just cut him down. Sell whatever he has left,” I opined.
“No, Mikhail,” Viktor refused. “That’ll be too easy. He doesn’t get to regret or find a way to pay back. We’ll take something he values. Something important to him. His daughter.”
The fact that Viktor himself mentioned Marco’s daughter excited something in me. But, instead of reacting the way I felt, I practically snarled, “His daughter? What if it doesn’t make him pay his debt? What if I don’t want to keep a grown lady in my house?”
