Dima shrugged. “You don’t like parties. I don’t like Russia. Does that make me a pussy?”
Shaking my head, I teased, “Makes you a t-traitor to the motherland.”
He snorted. “Seriously? What the fuck is there to like about it but the vodka? It’s cold as hell, and the sun barely shines. Not to mention, the girls usemefor sex instead of the other way around.”
A chuckle rumbled through my chest at his summation. He wasn’t wrong about the weather, or the fact that many of the young women there were desperate to get their hooks into Bratva royalty like Dima and myself. “Poor b-baby,” I mused.
Dima threw an arm around my shoulder. “Come on, Man of the Hour. Time to get your fine ass in your tux.”
“I hate having to get into a monkey suit,” I grunted.
Always my best hype man, Dima countered, “You’ll look so fucking fly.”
I snorted. “B-Bullshit.”
“Seriously,brat. Think of all the pussy you’ll be swimming in tonight.”
With a teasing smile, I countered, “I’m always swimming in p-pussy.”
“And that wasbeforeyou were named heir.” He squeezed my shoulder while rolling his eyes in exaggerated bliss. “You’ll be double-teaming chicks for days.”
“And you’ll b-be mooching off my extras.”
Dima winked. “You’re fucking right, I will.”
“Ass.”
“Let’s go.”
“Bylat,” I grunted before letting Dima drag me off the banister. I then followed him down the long carpeted hallway to the family wing of our Chestnut Hill mansion. A few servants rushed around in the hallway. At the sight of Dima and me, they averted their eyes to the floor and gave us a wide berth.
When we got inside the bedroom, I headed straight for the closet where my tailor-made Chaupin tux was hanging. After grabbing it off the hanger, I came back out into the bedroom.
As Dima poured himself a glass of vodka, I ordered, “Get me one t-too.”
Dima bowed like our men did after an order. “Anything for you, boss.”
I grunted as I shot him the bird. “Mudak.”
With a chuckle, he replied, “How am I a motherfucker when I’m just stating facts?”
“You know,” I muttered as I whipped my shirt over my head.
“Come on, Maks. You know as well as I do how much things are about to change for you and in turn for me.”
The impending weight of my inheritance caused me to grimace as I slid my arms into the crisp white shirt. My apprehension about becoming heir didn’t stem from any weakness or fear I had about leading the Korolov men. Besides a top-notch education at a local private school, I’d received just as much training in Bratva leadership from my father and his high-ranking officials. Over the years, I grew to respect the hell out of the Korolov men and would do anything for their honor.
No, my reluctance was rooted in my defect. I thought of the speeches my father often gave to both large and small groups ofhis men. How it wasn’t just the weight of the words he chose, but their delivery.
How the fuck was I ever supposed to do that?
When I glanced up, Dima wore a forlorn expression. My fingers froze while buttoning my shirt. Frowning, I shook my head. “You’re not going anywhere,b-brat.”
“I’m just the bastard son, remember?”
“No one will d-dare call you t-that in my p-presence.”
Although I knew he hated himself for them, tears shimmered in Dima’s eyes. “Thank you,brat.”
