“It seems to me that you view my company as merely a means to an end—a symbolic gesture we can use to bury the hatchet. Not to mention, piss off my father.”
“And that’s where you’d be wrong. This is bigger than Bratva affairs.”
That catches his attention; he lifts his eyebrows in interest. “Bigger than Bratva affairs? Now, this is something I never thought I would hear from you, Sasha. I’d always figured AngelCorp was a smokescreen, a logistics network to make Bratva affairs run more smoothly. And now you’re telling me it’s the opposite?”
“Different times,” I say. “You want to survive in the world that’s coming, you go legitimate. I want to make AngelCorp run clean. And I want Dandelion to be the technology powering it.”
He nods slowly, considering my words. “I hear you have quite a bit in crypto holdings you’re looking to splash around.”
“Correct. My key financial assistant is overseeing it.” Just thinking about her is enough to send a rush of heat through me. I put her out of mind as quickly as I can, though it’s not easy. “And she’s preparing my official merger proposal.”
Johan drums his fingers on the table. “A merger. That would change the world indeed, Sasha. We’d merge companies, merge Bratvas, end the war… give my father a heart attack.”
“And make ungodly amounts of money,” I add.
“And make ungodly amounts of money.”
“And become legends, if such things interest you. You’d be known as the man who made the Morozov and Orlov names into that of a true empire. AngelCorp is international, as I’m sure you know. Dandelion could follow the same path.”
He nods again. “It’s tempting. But there’s the little matter of giving my life’s work over to you.”
“It’d still be there,” I say. “You’d still oversee it. And besides, you’re how old?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“Twenty-nine.” Quick flashes form in my mind’s eye, of meeting Johan when he was just a child and I was barely a teenager. There was a time when his family and mine were close enough for such things. “You’re young—make another life’s work. Make two. You’ve got the talent and the time.”
“I can’t believe there was a time when your father and mine settled things with bullets. Now you and I are talking about international tech empires.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” I say. “Violence is still a tool in my arsenal—one I’m not afraid to bring out, if necessary, or if your father decides he wants to test me. Or if you get any ideas about being the hot shot Bratva leader your parents intended you to be.”
He snorts. “You’re honest.”
“Honesty is easier and faster. For example, we’ve been talking for only fifteen minutes, and I think you already see the shape ofthis thing.”
“I do. But elevator-pitch me.”
“Of course. I present you a merger. We discuss. We merge. We do it fast, move too quickly for the market to react until we’re ready. On the street, our people stop fighting. In the market, we both make money—legitimately. You get my distribution and logistics, I get your tech. That’s the size of it.”
He shifts in his seat, processing. “There’s still the matter of the Orlov council. You’ve got to convince them, unless you’re planning on going over their heads.”
“I’m planning on letting them know what happened by showing them the additional millions in their bank accounts they didn’t have to lift a finger to earn.”
“So youareplanning on going over their heads. Risky, risky, risky.”
“Even your father will get paid,” I say. “And if he makes too much of a stink about it, we can have him shipped out of the city.”
Johan lets out a sharp bark of a laugh. “And what’s to say I won’t just leave here and tell him about this meeting?”
“Money and peace. Two things I know you care about.”
No sharp retort to that. I know I’m right.
He holds my eyes. In those long moments, I know he’s weighing potential decisions, making calculations. He’s young, and he’s brilliant.
“I’ll think about it,” he says finally.
It’s not a yes. But I wasn’t expecting a yes.
