Forced Marriage Vows

4. Mikhail

CHAPTER 4

Mikhail

A part from the Pakhan, three other men hold the highest positions in the Bratva. The commanders, so to speak. They’re all middle-aged men who contribute to the running of the organization, giving out orders and making the major decisions with the Pakhan. My father, Damien Morozova, is one of those men.

He’s mostly known as a lethal snake. One that’s inclined to bite you in the back. He amassed most of his power from making shady deals with people in the Bratva, collecting secrets. He’s not a particularly violent man. My father didn’t get to where he is by killing people. No, he did so by being smart and not giving a fuck about anyone else but himself.

I despise him.

Another one of those commanders is Ivan Volkov. Now him, I admire. My father might be smart, but he’s also selfish, with only his best interests at heart. Volkov, on the other hand, actually cares about what happens with the Bratva. He’s the one who takes on the brunt of the work, making sure the organization continues to flourish. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t dangerous. He might be the most dangerous one of them all.

The last is Yuri Zakharov, but at the moment, he doesn’t matter to me. What matters to me is the reason my father requested I return home to Chicago. He spoke about urgent business, and I would have refused his invitation. If it wasn’t for the fact that he guaranteed I’d like the outcome of the meeting.

Now, here I am, seated in a room across from him and Ivan Volkov, and I’m already intrigued. I wasn’t even aware they had friendly relations. Whatever they’ve got to say must be good.

“Well? I’m waiting,” I drawl when they don’t immediately speak.

A crease appears between my father’s brows, making it clear he’s not impressed with my attitude. It’s a good thing I don’t owe him shit.

Volkov speaks up first.

“Thank you for meeting with us, Mikhail,” the dark-haired man starts.

For a man his age, he certainly looks youthful. I haven’t seen him in about a year, but he looks a little different. Happier in a sense.

“Mr. Volkov,” I greet with a short nod. “I should congratulate you on your wedding.”

“I got married a month ago,” he states.

“Yes, I’m sorry I missed it. I heard it was quite the affair.”

And by that I mean, his brother nearly murdered both the bride and groom. It sounded really dramatic.

“Yes, we’re all disappointed you couldn’t make it to the wedding. But that’s not why we requested your presence.”

“I await the reason with bated breath.”

Ivan seems to defer to my father to tell me, arching an eyebrow in his direction. My father and I look eerily similar. I can’t count the amount of times people have told me that I’m basically the younger version of him. Which, in my opinion, is a fucking insult.

His blue eyes rest on me as he fixes me with a serious look.

“It’s time for you to return to the Bratva, Mikhail. Permanently.”

My brows rise. “I wasn’t aware you could order me to do anything, Father. And I’m not inclined to listen even if you could.”

“Put your goddamn feelings aside and listen to me, son.”

“Don’t call me that,” I cut in. “I’m not your son.”

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure the last name you parade about is mine,” he says, blue eyes flashing.

“As it was your father’s and his father as well. You think they’d be disappointed with what you’ve become.”

He starts to curse me out in Russian but Ivan interrupts.

“Enough. I don’t have time for tedious family spats,” he says calmly. “We’re planning a coup.”

That gives me pause. “Interesting,” I say simply, not giving them much of a reaction.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“I’d also say it’s a long time coming. Igor’s being nothing but a figurehead all this while. We all know who’s really been running the organization,” I say with a short nod of respect toward him. “What do you need from me, though? Money, support?”

“I’m not taking over as Pakhan. I have no interest in the position.”

I always suspected he never got rid of Igor because he was content to control him from the background. I guess this is confirmation of that.

“I see. So who are you hoping to seat on the throne? Please don’t tell me it’s my father.”

“Arrogant idiot,” my father says under his breath.

“Actually, Mikhail, we plan to make you Pakhan.”

Now that surprises me. I look between both men, gauging their expressions. Their offer feels almost like a trap. It takes a long moment before I speak again, and when I do, I make sure to do so slowly.

“I can’t become the Pakhan. Not only have I maintained a passive role in the Bratva all this while, I neither have a legitimate claim nor a relationship with members of the organization..”

“Your last name is claim enough. The Morozovas have been a part of the Bratva for decades. And as for connections, you have me and your father. We’ll get you to where you need to be,” Ivan states.

“I like the confidence. But this isn’t going to be a walk in the park. We’re talking about something that could very well get all of us killed,” I say blandly.

“Your father and I will take care of it.”

“Really? My father supports me taking over as Pakhan?” I question like the man himself is not currently in the room.

He speaks up then, his voice hard. “Despite how much you hate me, Mikhail, I actually have your best interests at heart.”

“No, you have your best interests at heart,” I correct. “This is about putting someone with your last name at the top. You don’t care about me.”

A muscle ticks in his jaw but he doesn’t say a word to contradict me. As expected.

“Regardless of his motivations, all our needs are aligned,” Ivan says.

“You’re just going to assume I’m interested in the position?”

“Aren’t you?”

The air grows a little tense as we all stare at each other. This is a delicate situation. Any of the men in this room could betray our plan to the Pakhan. It would all blow up in our faces. Oddly enough, I trust Volkov a hell of a lot more than I trust the man who raised me.

“How long have you been planning this?” I ask, facing my father. “You’ve been loyal to the Pakhan all these years. Or have you simply been waiting for the right opportunity to stab him in the back?”

“Why does that matter?”

“Because I need to make sure you’re not going to run back to him with your tail between your legs like a good little dog.”

“Careful about how you speak to me, Mikhail.”

“Please, you should be used to it by now.”

“Enough,” Ivan says, his voice sharp. “We’re all dead if the both of you continue to act like this. Do I need to remind you how important this is? Mikhail, I’m about to throw my lot in with you. I’ll give you my support, but first I need something from you.”

“Of course you do. What is it?”

“Prove to me that you’re deserving of the role of Pakhan. Bring me a plan on the best way to get rid of Igor. The best way to put you in the position.”

My eyes narrow. “What happened to you taking care of it?”

“I said I was going to make you Pakhan. I never said I’d hold your hand or wipe your ass while at it,” he replies. Ouch . “Nothing in this life is free or easy, little Morozova. I’ll make you Pakhan, but you get to choose what kind of Pakhan you want to be. One I can respect? Or a simple puppet?”

I meet his brown eyes head on, liking the challenge I find in his gaze. I’ve never been able to back down from a challenge, and I’m not going to start now. And earning the respect of a man like Ivan Volkov is definitely something worth doing.

The rhythmic pounding of my feet against the treadmill fills my ears, perfectly synced with the steady beat of music pulsing through my earbuds. The numbers on the screen blur as I push harder, faster. Every step is calculated, every breath controlled.

For a few moments, the only thing that exists is the track beneath me and the fire in my muscles. Then I notice movement out of the corner of my eye. Jerome waves timidly, trying to draw my attention.

I grit my teeth, ignoring him. He knows better than to interrupt me while I’m working out. Still, I can feel him hovering, his presence persistent. After a few more seconds of trying to push past it, I sigh and slow the treadmill to a stop. Pulling out my earbuds, I glance at him, catching my breath.

“What is it, Jerome?” I ask, not bothering to mask the irritation in my voice.

He shifts uncomfortably, pushing his glasses up his nose. In light of recent events, I realize it was probably a mistake to bring him with me to Chicago. That being said, he could always surprise me, prove that he’s made out of tougher skin than most. I could just send him back, but he’s worked with me for years. And I’d have to find another assistant who’s as acclimated to me.

Unfortunately, Jerome has made himself indispensable.

“I wouldn’t have bothered you, but there’s an issue with the company.”

I wipe the sweat from my forehead with a towel, annoyed. “What issue?”

“The new software integration,” Jerome says quickly, his tone clipped. “The development team says it might delay the launch by a few weeks unless we intervene.”

Of course. There’s always something. It’s never just smooth .

I give a short nod, already thinking through solutions. “Have them send a detailed report to me, and set up a call with the department head this afternoon. I’ll handle it.”

Jerome relaxes slightly at that. “On it, boss.”

“I can’t keep handling everything, though,” I say, stepping off the treadmill and draping a towel around my neck. “I’m not going to be with the company much longer.”

I watch Jerome’s reaction. His brow furrows, showing he was clearly caught off guard.

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

It makes sense. There’s no way I can continue to run a company full time while working as the Pakhan. Plus, it’ll be easier to distance myself completely so my new job doesn’t affect the company’s sales. Being the CEO of Vortex Technologies was great. I built the company from the ground up and it flourished. But that was never my end goal.

“I have other responsibilities. More important ones,” I say, meeting his gaze and wondering if I’ll have to spell it out for him.

I’ll have to eventually, so he can choose if he’d want to be a part of the Bratva. Or if I should send him along on his merry way, back to the company. I’m actually curious about what he’ll choose.

“But, but,” he splutters, “you can’t just leave.”

“I’ll still oversee things from a distance,” I say to reassure him. “But an appointment will be made and someone else will handle to day-to-day affairs.”

Jerome swallows, clearly processing what I’ve said. I understand why he’d have reservations. He’s been right by my side through everything, starting from the company’s inception.

“Understood, sir,” he finally says, nodding.

I know he wants to ask other questions but he doesn’t, deciding to stay quiet.

“Good,” I reply, ready to turn away and get back to my workout. Then I remember something important. “You never got back to me on the Smithsonian issue.”

“Oh right. Sorry, Mr. Morozova. It skipped my mind,” he says.

“It’s fine. Did she get her deal?”

He shakes his head, “According to Mr. Rodriguez, Miss Vasiliev turned down the offer. He says she refused to work with them and that there was nothing he could do to convince her.”

“Did she now?” I murmur, amused. Anastasia continues to surprise me.

“Yes, sir. What should I do about Rodriguez? He seems terrified he’ll lose his job.”

I wave him off. “Leave him to it. He’ll get the message when he doesn’t get fired. Bye, Jerome,” I say dismissively,

He doesn’t need any more prompting before he leaves me alone. I get back on the treadmill, switching it on and letting it hum to life beneath me.

I think back to what Ivan said. About me having to prove my worth. He asked for a plan to make me Pakhan, and I just might have one.

One that’s crazy enough to succeed. Unfortunately, it just might mean losing the only person I’ve ever really cared about.