Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59983 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 300(@200wpm)___ 240(@250wpm)___ 200(@300wpm)
Viktor, my long-standing assistant and former bodyguard, approaches from the other side of the small viewing room in the basement of this restaurant, one among many that we operate.
I spare him a cursory glance, intrigued by what has him smirking so smugly. Yet the punishment being doled out in the other room holds my attention too. I won’t confess that this kind of justice pleases me, and watching this asshole get what he deserves is mildly entertaining.
Not much keeps my interest these days, anyway. After ruling one of New York’s most powerful crime families for twenty years, I’ve fallen prey to boredom.
“Well?” I ask.
Viktor faces forward, watching this man get his due for stealing from the family. He doesn’t need to supervise the punishment either, but since I’m here, he’s faithfully at my side, like always.
“That call I stepped out to take confirms that they’ve recovered most of the funds,” he replies.
“Good.” Sometimes it takes days, weeks even, to retrieve stolen funds. That’s one of the pains of digitized banking. But I have full confidence in the men working for me, like everyone else in the family does, especially those in the control rooms operating the maze of our computer network.
“I also received a call about Roman.”
I stare ahead, blanking my features at the mention of my son. My only child. My heir.
The one person who has yet to earn a speck of my trust or respect.
Roman Sokolov should be a prince in this city, next in line to rule and wield all the wealth and power I’ve amassed over the last two decades. Instead of proving himself in any way, he garners my attention only when he inevitably screws up and needs my help.
“Now what?” I ask, deadpan.
“He was partying uptown last night,” Viktor replies, no-nonsense about it. I can’t tell if his tone is this blunt because it’s far from the first time Roman’s fucked up and made a mess he can’t clean up himself, or because he’s just as annoyed with the idiot as I am.
“Color me surprised,” I mutter.
“It’s not as bad as the debacle over New Year’s Eve,” Viktor quips mildly.
I arch one brow, facing forward as the enforcer hits the man again. “Not as bad?” I huff. “It’s a fucking waste of my time to expect anything but bad from him.”
Viktor nods, well-versed in my attitude toward my son.
“At least no politicians were nearby this time,” he adds.
“You mean no underage and thoroughly intoxicated daughters of any politicians,” I amend.
Roman’s love of partying surpasses his love of not doing a goddamn thing that might help the Bratva. Out of pity, I gave him the task of acting like a consultant last year, just so he’d have an excuse to say he does something. His entire financial expertise amounts to spending money without a thought for what it costs. Raised under my ex-wife’s watch, Roman was conditioned to be spoiled. Fed with a silver spoon. Expected to do nothing but fake a charisma that comes across as phony ass-kissing.
His vices exceed his skills, and his appetite for causing scandals and living the high life seems endless. For those reasons alone, he will never earn my trust. He’ll never receive a vote of confidence from me. It’s precisely why I let him think he has a job acting as a consultant for minor accounts all while delegating someone else to do the actual work for him after the fact.
“Perhaps he will outgrow his frivolous nature,” Viktor says as he shoves his hands into his pockets.
I turn slowly, done with my interest in this traitor who deceived me and lost my favor by stealing from the Bratva. He’s paying for it with his life. Roman steals from me just the same, albeit as my supposed heir. I don’t bother wondering what he’ll ever pay for. His mother will shelter him from any consequences, no matter what.
A sigh is all I can give him. “Oh, you think?”
Viktor lifts one shoulder and lets it fall as he joins me in leaving the room. I’ve seen enough. I’ve also heard enough about Roman.
Leading the Bratva comes with a bounty of headaches, but anticipating Roman’s behavior is becoming an epic annoyance. “I’m supposed to be able to look forward to him taking over in my place.”
Viktor smirks, opening the door for me and exiting after me. “Is this another one of those days when you start admitting you’re getting old?”
I shoot him a side-eye. He’s the only one able to match my dry humor, if and when I care to show it. “No.” At forty-six, I’m a young pakhan. But it doesn’t matter if I don’t have an heir I can have faith in leading the next generation. This is merely my turn in leading the Sokolov family. Thinking of Roman following in my steps fills me with dread.