76
IVAN
“You let her go?” he snarls. “You let her go? This woman was on my fucking payroll and you let her waltz the fuck away?”
“That’s what I said.”
My father’s eyes narrow. “Don’t talk to me like that. This plan was your idea and now, you’ve let it go completely off the rails.’
“The plan is still on,” Anya cuts in, trying to help. “Ivan is still looking for the people responsible for—”
“Enough, Anya!” Otets swipes a hand to dismiss her and focuses on me. “I want to hear Ivan explain himself. I hear that you barged into Konstantin Sokolov’s office unannounced yesterday. Now, you’re cutting your bait loose without any leads. Make it make sense.”
I arch a brow. “I didn’t realize you kept in touch with Konstantin Sokolov.”
“I have to, when my son decides he wants to start a fucking war,” he hisses. “I built this Bratva from nothing and I won’t stand by and let you drive it straight into the ground.”
Anya is sitting on the very edge of the sofa, chewing on her nails. Her leg bounces with nervous energy.
Strangely, I feel completely calm.
“So what are you going to do?” I ask.
Otets’ scowl deepens. “What?”
“If you won’t stand by and watch me make the decision, then what are you going to do?”
“I’ll take back what is mine, you ungrateful little bastard. I’ll force you out. I did it to one of my children already; I can do it again.”
Anya inhales sharply. She was forced out of all Bratva business the moment she chose Lev. Usually, our father has just enough tact not to bring it up.
I nod. “You can try.”
His lip curls. “Try? I can do more than try.”
“Maybe. There’s a chance more of the men are loyal to you than to me. But I wouldn’t bank on it.”
“Are you suggesting I don’t have control over my own soldiers?” His face is going purple with rage. “You don’t want to start a civil war with me, son. It won’t end well.”
“I don’t want a civil war,” I admit freely. “But I also don’t want your approval. The only thing that matters to me is making the right calls and earning the loyalty of my men. That’s what I’ve done.”
“You sound sure.” His tone is mocking, but he’s fishing for leverage. He’s trying to figure out how confident I am. How sure I am that I can take him.
“If you’re not, then feel free to challenge me,” I say casually.
He opens and closes his mouth a few times, at a loss for what to do. We’ve toed the line of decorum over the last few years, even as his bitterness about being forced out has risen. But now, I’m saying, Fuck the line.
This is my Bratva now.
“So what’s the grand plan, son? Your little wife isn’t much use if she won’t even talk to you.” His eyes remain cold and hard as he takes me in. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You never could keep a woman around.”
I stand my ground. “I guess I should have taken notes from you and locked her up. Maybe I should have slapped her around a bit to take the fight out of her, right?”
“You little fucking—”
“Raise your hand to me and see if it ends well for you, Father. I think you know it won’t.”
His hand flops back by his side, though it stays knotted in a fist. His jaw works as he grinds his teeth. Finally, he says, “Good luck, son. You’re going to need it.”
My father walks out of the room with his head held high. But he might as well have a tail tucked between his legs.
The balance has permanently shifted.
Anya waits until the front door clicks shut behind him before she turns to me, mouth hanging open. “Are you the fucking don now? Is that—Is that what just happened?”
“It was a step,” I tell her. “A lot of formalities need to happen between now and—”
Anya throws her arms around me, squeezing my middle. “Thank God. It’s about damn time.”
Reluctantly, I pat her back.
When she pulls away, Anya smiles up at me. “So…?”
“So what?”
She rolls her eyes, frustrated by my obtuseness. “Now that you have that off your back, you can start making plans. Arrangements.”
I know what she means. Of course I do.
My father wanted me to marry before he handed over the leadership role. That’s the only reason I attended the party where I met Cora. It’s the only reason Cora isn’t under my roof right now—in my bed.
Now, I’m in charge. New leadership. New rules.
“I don’t have any arrangements to make,” I say.
Anya stares at me for a long time. So long that I almost say something, just to break the silence. It’s like we’re in a play and I’ve forgotten my line.
Finally, she speaks.
“It was really noble of you to make that deal with Otets for me,” she says softly. “You don’t like big emotional displays, so I’ve tried not to make one, but…it means everything to me that you wanted me to be happy. You handed over your opportunity for a happy marriage so that I could be with Lev. I’ll never be able to repay you for that.”
“You don’t need to repay me for—”
“But,” she interrupts sharply, “if you sacrifice yourself now, when it’s no longer necessary, you aren’t a hero—you’re a coward.”
With that, my sister, who never knows when she’s overstaying her welcome, makes a timely exit.