52
IVAN
Cora is still asleep when Yasha texts me a warning. Your dad is on his way to the house.
Not exactly the start to the morning I was hoping for. My hopes were firmly wedged somewhere between Cora’s sleep-warm skin and the top sheet.
I could have the guards lock the front gates and refuse to see him. It’s my house; I can do whatever the fuck I want.
The trouble is, laying out my future with Cora felt good. We’re going to start a family and build a life together. As much as I’d love to stay here and get a head start on building that family, I also need to make it clear to my father that the window of time when he could barge into my house and call the shots is long over.
I quietly slide into a pair of dark jeans and a t-shirt and head downstairs. I get to the entryway with just enough time to open the front door and intercept Boris on the porch.
Based on the way he stumbles back a half-step, I can tell he wasn’t expecting me. Surprise drop-ins have always been his favorite. I’ll have to thank Yasha for the heads-up later.
“You put a tracker on me or something?” he grumbles, lowering his shoulder like he’s ready to push through me to get inside.
I fucking wish he would.
I wave him in with a stiff arm. “I pay the guards to tell me when visitors arrive.”
“I’m no ‘visitor.’ I’m your father. I was your pakhan!”
“You were,” I agree. “Not anymore.”
His eyes narrow. The wrinkles around his eyes are deeper than I remember, the blue veins across his cheeks more visible. He looks worn. Tired. A lack of power does not suit him.
“I’ll be pakhan again if shit keeps going the way it’s going around here.” He paces across the tile floor and then spins back to face me. “I hear your latest little fiancée is gone.”
“Francia was not my fiancée.”
“Oh, excuse me. Your whore,” he spits.
“Insult Francia all you want. I couldn’t care less. If you want to get a rise out of me, try complimenting her. That might do the trick.”
“This isn’t some joke, Ivan. You may think this world is your playground, but the way we present to our enemies matters. The way we present to our allies matters even more. Right now, we look weak.”
“My enemies. My allies. None of it belongs to you anymore.”
He snorts. “Call it what you like! I wouldn’t want my name on this mess, anyway. Your allies include biker gangs now, apparently. Everyone is talking about the stunt you pulled the other night.”
Yasha has kept an ear on the ground the last few days. We hoped the attack at Alexander’s house would skate by unnoticed, but exploding motorcycles and suburban fires aren’t exactly lowkey.
It doesn’t matter. I’d do it all over again to have Cora here with me.
“I pulled that stunt to make sure people know they can’t walk all over my Bratva. To make sure they know Cora is my woman and she will be protected as such.”
“I’m sure it was an honest mistake on their part. You have so many women coming and going; who could even keep count?”
“Would it be better if I just had one woman that I beat into submission?” I fire back.
The words land exactly like I hoped they would.
Rage ripples across his face and his lips twist into a hideous sneer. Any calm he possessed when he showed up here is long gone. “Your mother knew what she was getting into with me. I never made her any promises I couldn’t keep. I gave her a life and children and she brought her wealth and status with her. She made the Bratva stronger.”
“She made the Bratva stronger while you broke her apart, one slap at a time,” I growl. “That’s a fair trade?”
“She also raised you and your sister to be soft. You think that what you want should be more important than what the Bratva needs. You and Anya are more focused on your useless fucking feelings than what is best for the Family. When you think about it,” he says, “your mother tore me down, too. Child by child.”
At one point in the not-too-distant past, this conversation would have made me livid. Now, I’m just finished with it.
I gaze down at my father. He looks so old these days. “I feel bad for you, Otets. Actually, no—if I wasted even a moment of my time thinking about you, I’d feel bad. Because, despite spending your entire life giving up everything for the sake of your legacy, you’ve lost it all. Your wife, your children, your Bratva—it’s all gone and you have nothing left. There’s not even anyone to pity you.”
He puffs out his chest. “You are in temporary control of the Bratva, son. If you think I can’t take it all back at the snap of my fingers, then you’re—”
“You talk too much.” I sigh and rub my chin. “If you want things to change, stop jabbering and fucking do something about it.”
My father stares at me, his jaw set and grinding together in frustration.
“Well?” I press. “Are you going to challenge me? Or are you finally realizing that I could have you relegated to the motherland with nothing but the clothes on your back within the hour? One word from me and you would live the rest of your life shivering in fucking Siberia and looking over your shoulder, wondering if I’ll come do to you what you did to my mother.”
Silence like nothing he and I have ever experienced before descends on us. He clears his throat and shuffles in place.
“And here I thought family loyalty meant something to you,” he mutters at last.
“It means everything to me. Which is why I’ll kill you or anyone else who threatens mine.” I take a step towards him, voice low and razor sharp. “You may call love useless, but my love is what I will live, fight, and die for. It’s my reason. If you think you’re more powerful than that, I welcome the challenge. But if you’re smart, you’ll either bend the knee or disappear.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You will live just long enough to see your family and former allies turn their back on you. Then I’ll kill you with my own two hands.”
I can count the number of times I’ve seen my father speechless on one finger. He meets my eyes for a long moment. When he sees that I mean every last word, he turns on his heel and leaves.
I stand there for a while after he’s gone. The entryway smells like his old man cologne and, beneath it, the tang of his sweat. I used to work to make my father happy. I was raised my entire life to be the kind of leader he was, the kind of man he was. Now, he’s gone, and I’m the one calling the shots.
I have everything my father never knew he wanted.
Soon enough, I’ll have it all.
My dad has only been gone for five minutes when another text from Yasha pings. The Sokolovs want a meeting with you.
Very funny, I text back. I haven’t even been awake an hour and he’s already giving me shit.
I’m heading into the kitchen to get coffee when he answers. I’m serious, Ivan. They want to meet. What should I tell them?
Fuck. He’s not kidding.
I forget the coffee and turn towards my office.