Page 16 of Daddy's Reluctant Queen

“Is anyone interested in what I think about this?” I say, snapping them all back in line. The brothers sit back in their seats and Lev turns his gaze toward me. “Lev, as much as I appreciate your attempt to take initiative and branch out, I’m afraid we can’t take the risk when it comes to our arms. I want someone with established relationships and experience in regard to making those deals. Arms make up the bulk of the income for the Bratva. Any drop in that cashflow would create problems, and I know you don’t want problems, especially from me, right?”

Lev gets my meaning and backs off. He shakes his head. “No, sir.”

“Then it’s settled. Cyrus gets the Northeast region. And I’d better not hear anything else about it.” I look to both Cyrus and Cyril. “Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir,” they say in unison.

“Good. What’s next on the agenda?”

From there, we go through the rest of the territorial division. In my mind, it’s all quite simple. I’ve had years to decide which of my brigadiers would take over which parts of town. Letting them throw in their hats is always interesting, however. It lets me know who’s looking to move up in ranks and who’s comfortable. That little show of initiative from Lev may come in handy in later prospects.

In my time as Pakhan, I’ve only had to do this twice. Two other rival Bratvas have fallen since I took this role. One Bratva we absorbed and the other we wiped off the face of the earth. Both experiences were necessary points on my mission of revenge as well as making us a much stronger Bratva.

We are large and more widely feared, a sign of a good leader in this game. But none of that matters more to me than knowing that Marius is dead.

We come to the end of the meeting and Cyril asks, “What about the Aristovs?”

I pause. “We covered this already.”

“Yes, but I was wondering if the directive has changed. Do you still want them taken alive?”

I’m a little annoyed by this question. I don’t repeat myself. “If the directive has changed, you will be the first to know it.”

“I only ask because the situation seems to have changed. We can’t allow them to leave the city or elude us in any way. A message needs to be sent.”

“And it will be. Do you doubt that, Cyril?”

He smiles stiffly, his eyes darting over to his brother cautiously. “Of course not, sir. I… I was just making sure that I don’t overstep.”

That’s, at least, a partial lie. Cyril’s itching to kill them. He’s much more bloodthirsty than his brother is. I know he wants to be the one to kill them, if for no other reason than to get his rocks off.

“Don’t be so fucking eager, Cyril.” I give him a sly smile. “You’ll get your chance at them.”

His stiff smile relaxes. A little encouragement and he’s sated.

I close out the meeting and as everyone files out, Ignat asks, “You do still want to be the one to take their heads when they are found?”

“Not you, too, Ignat.”

He shrugs. “Just asking. I know how important this has been for you. I also know how much of a hard on Cyril has for killing. He’ll be… disappointed if you get the killing blow.”

“Don’t worry about him. I know how to handle his kind.”

He scoffs and rises from his chair. “I’ll let you know once contact has been made in the new territories.”

“Thank you.” I watch him go and relax in my chair for a little while. This meeting room has seen a lot of Bratva discussions. The walls are all wood paneling with commissioned paintings of Pakhans past in some of the most ridiculous settings. My predecessor’s painting hangs to my right. He was a heavyset man with a shock of white hair. In his painting, he’s wearing armor and standing on a battlefield, smoke and bodies littered behind him.

I’ve never had mine done. It’s a vanity I’ve never felt the need for… and one that I’d hoped would include my son… and perhaps a wife. It seems sentimental and quite unmanly, so if I ever did such a thing, it probably would not hang in this room.

At least as I stare at the portrait of the man who reared me into this underground world, I have something to remember him by. Little else remains of him since his death. He asked that it all be burned in a pyre so that I could start my reign clean. All that he left me, other than this title and money, was this house, a few furniture and decorative items, and a single gold signet ring that I keep in a drawer in my office.

But I can gaze on his face again. He was as close to a father as I was ever going to have.

There’s a soft knock at the door. “Come in.”

It opens and Natalie peeks her head in. “Is everyone gone?”

I nod. “You can speak freely.”