To an outsider, his scarred face simmers with danger and aggression. Only I know that he’s nervous.
This is an institution Leks was raised to hate. Yet here he is, about to be anointed as one of its leaders.
“Aleksandr Zhukov and Natalia Zhukova, formerly Bryusova, with Leonid Zhukov.”
Someone announces our names as we step into the apartment.
The lighting is dim and moody except for a table in the center of the room, where a tall man with dark features radiates pure power.I’d thought Leks had a brooding look, but his easy smile makes him look like a teddy bear compared to the intensity of the Pakhan’s face.
A slight blonde woman hovers near him. His face only softens when he looks over at her.
His intense black eyes fall to Leks as we approach. This istheir first meeting since more than a decade ago, when they were in school together.
“Leks.”
“Viktor.”
They exchange a firm handshake, and a kind of understanding seems to pass between them.The Pakhan turns to me, his gaze no less intense.
“You must be Natalia.” I nod and he closes my hand in a firm handshake too, then gestures at the papers on the table. “We need your sign-off too, since this is your family seat.”
I sign the papers with a flick. It’s quietly satisfying to give the seat to the one person my father would’ve hated to inherit his empire the most.If there’s one thing I’ve realized through this healing process, it’s that I’m determined to live this life in a way that would make my papa roll in his grave on a daily basis.
The Pakhan gives Leonid a nod, and his eyes flash with interest as Leks explains his background in quiet Russian. The memory of the Pakhan’s own rise to power comes back to me. Wasn’t he a bastard, too?
Leks pulls me close, his lips brushing my ear. “This shouldn’t take too long.”
Dread clutches at my stomach as I realize that I’m now on my own.
The meeting will happen without me, and the rest of us here are expected to socialize.I know what happens to women who don’t make friends in this environment — they get eaten alive. I’ve heard my mother and her friends gossiping to destroy lives.
Leonid quickly finds the other children, who are immediately fascinated to meet someone whohas lived in Siberia.
I hover at the edge of the room until a brunette in a forest-green slip dress walks up to me. Her appearance is slightly more understated than red-haired woman who is literally wearing a tiara. The brunette seems entirely at ease, as if these situations are a regular occurrence which she doesn’t mind.
“You must be Natalia.”
Her mouth spreads in a knowing, expectant smile. I don’t like the thought that everyone here already knows who I am and what’s happened over the past few months, but that is the way the Bratva works.
For the next decade, I’ll be known as the girl who helped her husband murder her father after he blew up the port.
I force a smile in return.“That’s me.”
“Nina.” She points out her husband, Artyom Petrov. I vaguely recognize him from some of my father’s social occasions. He couldn’t be more different from Leks. He looks like the kind of man you’d see in Forbes, not a member of the Bratva.
“And your child?”
I nod. “In every way that matters.” I think his dark hair and eyes make it clear that Leonid is not mine, but I worry about what people would think. I know my mother would have a field day with a piece of gossip like that.
“From a previous relationship?”
I take a sip of my sparkling water. “It’s complicated.”
That makes Nina’s brown eyes sparkle. “Always is.” She lowers her voice. “Art is Ava’s father but he didn’t know that until she was four.”
“You kept it a secret from him?”
I’m such a hopeless liar that I can’t imagine being able to mislead Leks about something that big. I couldn’t even take a pregnancy test without him being there.
