Forced Marriage Vows

6. Mikhail

CHAPTER 6

Mikhail

I like to run. Not away from things but toward them. My goal with every single task that’s placed in front of me is to take care of it as well as I possibly can. As soon as is humanly possible for that task to be done.

I test the boundaries of what can be done and then I push past them. Focused and persistent are the words that have been used to describe me all my life. It’s how I was able to build my own company from the ground up when I was twenty-five.

Right now, I find myself in the face of possible allies or enemies. And all I can think is that I have to win this. I have to get to the top.

Two years ago, a meeting like this with the Cosa Nostra would have been next to impossible. It would have probably led to the death of everyone present. But that’s all changed. Nicolas Ramirez made sure of that when he opened up communications between the two factions. He had a goal and he ensured he succeeded. A man like that, I definitely want on my side.

That being said, it’s been a week since my father and Ivan Volkov gave me a proposal I couldn’t turn down. And since then, it’s been secret meeting after secret meeting to identify our allies and secure our victory. I’m getting tired. Who do I have to kill to get what I want?

“I’m a businessman, Mr. Ramirez,” I say to Nicolas, who sits across me at the table. “Tell me what you’d like in return for your support.”

Seated on my side of the table are Ivan Volkov and my father. On the Don’s side, there’s a lot more people. Among which is Adrian Rossi, who has a gleam in his green eyes that tells me he’s very happy this meeting was called—and I can guess why.

Other people on the other side include Camila Vitelli, the only woman at the table. The first of her kind in the Cosa Nostra, if I’m remembering correctly. Her husband Lukas sits by her side. Never too far from his wife. Lukas is Russian, a spy sent to infiltrate the Cosa Nostra. He performed his job well for several years. So well, in fact, that he fell in love with one of them.

Ivan seems not to doubt his loyalties, but I don’t think I could ever fully trust a man who’s so obviously straddling both sides of a fence.

Instead of addressing me, Nicolas Ramirez turns to face Ivan. “You really think he’s the best option for Pakhan?”

I grit my teeth, answering before Ivan gets the chance to.

“I think that’s the reason we’re all here, isn’t it? For you to figure it out yourself,” I state.

Ramirez smirks, leaning back in his seat. He’s in a crisp three-piece suit, not a single black hair out of place.

“You can’t blame me, though, Mr. Morozova. I don’t know much about you. And like you said, you’re a businessman. You’re not a made man,” he points out.

“Made men belong to the Cosa Nostra. In the Bratva, we have vors . And I can assure you, what I plan to do is not to become one, but to lead every single one of them.”

“Alright then,” Nicolas starts, his blue eyes fixed on me. “I didn’t mean any offence, Mr. Morozova. This is a delicate matter, after all. But I trust Lukov’s decision. Which means I’ll have to trust you as well. He seems to believe you have an idea in order to ensure this plan succeeds. I’d like to hear it.”

“This plan will succeed regardless of my idea. We have more manpower, more influence in the Bratva. With all of us working together, there’s no way Igor doesn’t fall,” I say. “But my idea is a fail-safe. It’s a plan you’re very familiar with yourself, Don.”

Beside me, my father stiffens. Recognition lights up in the eyes of the people before me. Nicolas looks damn near impressed. But it’s Ivan that speaks up first.

“What do you want to do, Mikhail?” he questions.

“I think every man in this room knows what I plan to do. I’d rather not spell it out at the risk of it getting back to Igor before I can go through with it. All you need to know is that I plan to win, no matter what it takes.”

My words seem to be exactly what Adrian has been waiting to hear. He offers me a conspiratorial grin as he clasps his hands together on the table.

“Can we go back to what we want now, Morozova?” he questions.

“Which is?” I ask when the Don doesn’t stop him.

“It’s simple, really. I’d like the chance to kill Igor Vasiliev,” he answers, just as I’d been expecting him to.

I understand his need for revenge, really I do. Igor murdered his mother in the worst way. That being said, I can’t help the uneasy feeling that settles in my chest at the thought of Igor’s death. I feel no sympathy for the man, of course. He’s been nothing but a lying, cheating, lazy waste of space in all his years of being Pakhan.

My worries are more inclined toward his children. Anthony might claim to hate his father, but I know for a fact that he’d care if anything happened to him. That’s how family works. And that’s not to even consider Anastasia. She’d be heartbroken if Igor died.

I know there’s not much I can do to change Igor’s fate, however. I just wish there was another way I could go through with this without losing my best friend.

I can’t admit any of that right now, though. It would spell weakness. So instead I smile and offer Adrian a short nod.

“As you wish. You’ll get first dibs.”

He turns his grin to the Don. “Yeah, I definitely like him.”

When Nicolas looks at me, I can tell he’s trying to figure me out. Perhaps determine my secret motivations. But I’m hardly a complicated man. The only thing that drives me is success.

He’ll have the chance to learn that later. Right now, we have a battle to plan. Because considering all the meetings we’ve had in the past couple of days, there’s no way Igor hasn’t figured out we’re moving against him. He’s at least suspicious by now. Which means we have very little time before he makes a move of his own.

The first time I met Anthony Vasiliev, I absolutely hated his guts. He reminded me of a puppy, a golden retriever wagging his tail at everyone. Anthony’s always had this bright light that just sucks people in. Then I got to know him and I realized he was just as messed up as me. He and I had similar scars, he just found a way to live in spite of them.

He was a fourteen-year-old from a family of murderers, the most dangerous family in the Bratva—and somehow, he still managed to keep that light. It was intriguing. It’s why I didn’t tell him to fuck off that first day when he offered me a peanut butter sandwich at lunch. I wanted to get to know what made him tick. I wanted to see if I could push him into breaking into the deep dark part of himself that he keeps hidden.

I wanted to see if I could push him into becoming like me. More than a decade down the road and I still haven’t been able to succeed. I thought I’d be able to corrupt him, but the truth is, he’s done more corrupting of the two of us.

My best friend is my sounding board. He keeps me from going over the edge and completely losing myself. Anthony’s worked hard to ensure I don’t become the worst version of myself. If I told him what my plan was, he’d tell me to stop before I went too far. But I can’t tell him—not when it’s a plan concerning the members of his family.

“And then out of nowhere, the ball just flies toward me.” Anthony’s voice buzzes through the speaker, excitement practically leaking through the phone. I tune back in to his riveting story. “I mean, everyone around me is scrambling, right? Total chaos. But I, being the graceful, athletic god that I am, just reach up—bam! One-handed catch. Crowd goes wild.”

I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me. “You caught a ball, Anthony. A ball. Congratulations.”

“Hey, hey! You weren’t there, man. This was legendary. People will talk about it for years.”

“I’m sure they will,” I say dryly, leaning back in my chair. “It’ll go down in history next to… what? The moon landing? World War II? Anthony catches a baseball. Incredible.”

“Exactly! Now you’re getting it.” He laughs, not the least bit deterred by my sarcasm.

That’s the thing about Anthony. Nothing sticks to him. He’s like sunshine coated in Teflon. I rub a hand over my face, glancing out the window of my home office. I’m supposed to be reviewing the applications for the new interim CEO for Vortex. It’s proving more difficult than I expected.

“So what about you? What’s going on in the life of Mikhail ‘Too Serious for Fun’ Morozova?” Anthony asks, amusement lacing his voice. “Please tell me you’ve done something besides brood in your cave of darkness.”

You have no idea all that I’ve done, Ant.

“I don’t brood,” I mutter, though it’s useless to argue with him. “And it’s not a cave. It’s called working. You should try it sometime.”

“Oh, I do work. I work very hard at living my best life.”

“I’m sure you do.” I smirk.

He actually does work. He’s into crypto trading. He earns a lot of money through strategic investments. He also has some other investments on the side. For example, he has a huge stake in my company. Which means whether I like it or not, he’ll be made aware of the change that’s coming.

And the reasons for the change.

“Whatever. When are you coming back to L.A.?” Anthony questions. “We need to go out for drinks. You, me, a night out. It’ll be fun. You remember fun, right?”

“I vaguely recall the concept,” I reply. “But I can’t come to L.A. yet. I have an idea though. Why don’t you fly out to Chicago?”

“Why? What’s in Chicago?” Anthony asks blandly, the excitement in his voice dampening.

“Your sister’s here, isn’t she? And we could catch up when you arrive. I actually have to talk to you about some stuff,” I reply vaguely.

Anthony falls quiet for a couple of seconds. “What stuff?”

I sigh. “You’ll have to come home eventually, Ant. Something big is about to happen. I can’t tell you over the phone.”

“If it’s about the Bratva, it doesn’t concern me.”

“It does, though. You know it does. Just trust me on this, alright? I’ll explain everything in person.”

He blows out a breath. “I’ll think about it.”

“Let me know when you plan to leave. I’ll send the plane. Alright?”

He doesn’t reply for the longest moment.

“Anthony?”

“I have no idea what the hell is going on,” he starts, his tone serious. “But whatever it is, keep my sister out of it. Are we clear, Mikhail?”

I grit my teeth. “Just come home.”

He hangs up and I run my hands through my hair in frustration. Yeah, I’m definitely fucked.

It’s easy to make plans and have a certain understanding of how those plans are supposed to go. Unfortunately, in reality, something always goes wrong—and once that happens, it’s impossible to predict what happens next.

Ivan calls me later that day, and while he sounds like his calm, easy-going self, there’s a slight note of panic in his voice.

“Igor knows,” he grits out. “He’s making a run for it.”

Something chilly spreads through me at that. And then the only thought at the forefront of my mind is to get to Anastasia.