Chapter Ten
The tension in the air was so thick, Rome felt as if he could slice it with a machete. He and his father, Boris, sat on the couch opposite the two chairs currently occupied by Sasha’s father and Lenny, the ostentatious glass and gold coffee table acting as a buffer between them. Lenny had not wanted his wife, Klara, anywhere near today’s meeting, but before she had departed for her sister’s house, she, insisting on being a proper hostess, had arranged several desserts—homemade pastries, two boxes of chocolates, and sliced fresh fruit—along with coffee and tea on the glass table in front of them, all of which currently sat untouched. Misha, who acted as second for Andrei, just as Rome did for Boris, stood over by the built-in fireplace to the left of Rome. Both the Valentin guards and the Poriskova guards had been respectfully ordered by Lenny to remain outside and the weapons were also left, safely tucked away in another room, save for the ones the guards refused to give up, but since they were stationed outside, Lenny allowed it.
Rome had been the last to arrive, due to being pleasantly held up this morning by Sasha, but when he finally had made his entrance, Boris, Andrei, and even Lenny were surprised when he immediately went over to Misha to shake hands. He gave a courteous nod to Lenny and Andrei, and then took his place on the couch beside his father.
“Now we can begin,” Lenny said at the same time Boris grumbled in Russian, “It’s about time you showed up.”
The memory of Sasha’s body entangled with his last night and this morning made him giddy, and even his dad’s snide comment could not spoil his mood, especially not with the prospect of finally having peace put forth before him. He had no doubt his father was still angry with him for not taking care of Andrei, but he felt it important to drive the point home now that he in fact would not be completing that task, so he spoke first, breaking the tension-filled silence.
“Papa,” he began,” forgive me for not speaking to you about this first, but time did not permit me. I mean no disrespect.” He turned to Sasha’s father. “I had no intention of taking your life yesterday. As a matter of fact—”
Andrei jumped up from his seat, shaking his finger at Rome, effectively cutting him off. “But you mean to disrespect me by lying?”
“Don’t call my son a liar,” Boris spat, also getting up from his seat.
Rome tried to interject that he was telling the truth, but too many voices were chiming in at once, including Andrei’s about the footage of Rome in the lobby yesterday. The shouting match went on for several minutes before Lenny banged his fist on the table and yelled, “Enough!”
Lenny cleared his throat and calmly, he said, “Take your seats, gentlemen … please.” He waited until both patriarchs sat back down. This man was calm and collected, but powerful enough in his day as an enforcer for the biggest crime family in Moscow, that he garnered reverence and fear from all who knew of him, despite no longer being in the business. He was one of the few ever allowed to retire—still breathing, that is. Even Misha walked over to Andrei and sat on the arm rest of his chair giving his undivided attention.
“It no longer matters what was or wasn’t done,” Lenny continued. “The way I see it, all that matters now is what we do going forward.”
“I agree,” Rome said.
“Did you know it was your son who came to me and asked for this meeting?” Lenny asked Boris.
Boris’s brows shot up in surprise, but before he could respond, Rome cut in. “I don’t want another generation of war.” He looked pleadingly at Andrei. “I don’t want more blood on my hands. No matter what happens here today, you have my vow that I will not have yours.”
“He’s telling the truth, Uncle Andrei,” Misha stated.
The puzzlement on the older man’s face was evident. Only then did Rome notice both of Andrei’s hands were fisted at his sides, and then he noticed the man visibly relax, uncurling his fingers. He seemed thoughtful for a moment before he spoke. “I know the death of my wife was not an order that came from you,” he said directly to Boris, who nodded in acknowledgement. “But the man responsible for her death was not punished. I cannot agree to peace until he is.”
“This is outrageous,” Boris said raising his voice. He, too, then banged his fist on the table. “You would have me hand over my own nephew?” He huffed out a heavy breath. Rome recognized this as his way of reining in his temper. “Sinok,” he turned to Rome, “I know you have been unhappy lately. I’ve seen it in your eyes, and yet you haven’t spoken to me about it. I was waiting for you to come to me.”
Rome shook his head. “And what would you have said, Papa? It’s okay, go do something else?” It would never be as easy as a simple conversation. He was too valuable an asset to his father. He had to show him he meant it, and what better way to do that than to bring peace between their two families as well as procuring a merger that would make all other rivals quake in their perfectly polished loafers?
Shedding blood, even his enemies’, had slowly been eating away at his soul.
Rome wondered what his father had seen written on his face when Boris’s demeanor suddenly changed. He looked sympathetic. He laid his heavy hand on Rome’s shoulder and nodded, as if some decision had been warring inside him.
When he removed his hand, he turned to face Andrei again. “Take my word that I will see to Vitaly’s discipline and let us be done with this.”
“No! Your word does not cover the insubordinate actions of your nephew. What’s to stop him from hurting my Aleksandra next to get to me?”
Rome visibly flinched at the mention of her name together with the possibility of getting caught in Vitaly’s crossfire. He was sure though only Lenny and Misha had noticed. Now perhaps was not the most opportune time to share his connection with Sasha.
“My precious wife lies rotting in the ground,” Andrei angrily continued, “while that animal roams free.”
“He has not walked away without punishment, Andrei. He has no father or brother, both of whom you took from him. My brother and nephew both lie rotting in the ground as well.”
The men both continued to talk in opposition, each time raising their voices an octave louder than the other in rapid-fire Russian.
“There must be some kind of compromise here,” Lenny suggested.
There would be none, Rome knew. Vitaly had to die. It was the only way. He returned Misha’s slight imperceptible nod.
“Your nephew’s head is what I will accept as a peace offering,” Andrei spat.
Boris stood. “This meeting is over.”
Rome stood as well. The meeting may not have gone well, but it went better than expected. He at least made some headway with both his father and Andrei. Vitaly would die tonight, and both Andrei and Boris would know it was Rome who executed him—his last kill, just like he had promised Misha earlier today at his apartment.
Vitaly would never even see him coming … or at least that would have been the case if the devil they had all just been speaking of wasn’t currently standing at the arched entrance to the living room, both sets of guards running in shortly thereafter.
“Where was my invitation to this meeting?” Vitaly asked with malice in his voice. He then strolled into the living room with an air of arrogance and stopped just a few short feet away from where the rest of the party stood.
Physically, Rome and his cousin resembled each other. Both men were tall, well-built with similar hair and eye coloring, though Vitaly’s eyes were a darker blue, and both had the perfectly sculpted Valentin nose, which was just a little too wide in the nostrils, but that’s where their similarities ended. Vitaly had no soul, Rome thought, no passion or goals save for money and power and he was definitely not a man who could be reasoned with.
“My apologies, Boris. He said you had requested his presence,” Dmitri, Rome’s father’s bodyguard said. He also explained how he and his men had no choice but to come in when Andrei’s guards decided to follow Vitaly. Both sets of guards were now cautiously inching into the room.
Boris aimed an angry glare at his nephew. “When I request your presence, you will know it, Vitaly. Do not dare speak to me with disrespect.”
“But from him,” Vitaly jerked his chin in Rome’s direction, “you tolerate disrespect? Looks to me like the great Valentin assassin is slipping,” he finished, referring to Andrei, who clearly was still breathing.
Rome mentally cursed the fact that his gun was in the other room. He could have put an end to this feud right here and now.
“You will not stick your nose into matters between me and my son,” Boris yelled.
“I demand justice!” Vitaly’s eyes were burning with anger as he drew his gun, too quickly for Rome to speculate if he had been disarmed before entering the house. Apparently, he wasn’t. Vitaly aimed at Andrei’s head, after which, both sets of guards drew their own weapons, leaving hardly any heads in the room without a gun pointed at it.
Rome saw the fury brimming in Lenny’s eyes, and the guilt nearly choked him. He had brought this back into Lenny’s life, a life finally made peaceful, and the only thing he remained thankful for was that neither Sasha nor Klara were anywhere near. His gut told him this would not end well.
He had to stop this somehow. “Not here, Vitaly,” he warned. “This is neutral territory. Put the gun down before you do something else you’ll regret.”
“Regret? I regret nothing except being second to you, Rome. I should be in line to take over the business. Me!” He shifted his focus to Boris, his aim at Andrei’s head never wavering. “I loved you like a father and respected you more than my own father. He was not strong enough to lead our family, and neither were any of your other brothers. Give me the order, Uncle Boris.” He thumb-backed the hammer of the gun. “Let me do what your son was too chicken-shit to do, and then all of our rivals will know who their king is.”
Rome could practically see the steam rising off his father, the look in his deep-set blue eyes lethal enough to make grown men cower, and yet, when he spoke next, his voice was calm and collected, calculated even in his choice of words. “This isn’t a monarchy, Vitaly. I run a business. If I were a king, you’d be bowing down to me and kissing my feet in gratitude for giving you a position you did not deserve. You have no head for business. And you have no honor!” He shouted his last sentence, and Rome reveled in his cousin’s flinched response.
Boris held out his hand. “Give me the gun … now!”
The tension at the start of the meeting was nothing compared to now. The room became too quiet, eerily so. Rome could practically see the indecision warring within Vitaly. He didn’t have many options at this point, and he knew it. If he pulled the trigger, one of Andrei’s guards would take him out immediately.
Footsteps in the hallway broke the silence right before everything went to shit in a blur. Through Rome’s peripheral vision, he saw Vitaly shift his focus to the entrance of the living room. To his horror, Sasha appeared, her mouth forming a silent O. As if in slow motion, Rome hurled himself at his cousin, but it was too late to stop him.
Vitaly fired.
“Aleksandra,” someone yelled.
Rome wasn’t sure if it was Andrei or Misha, nor did he care at the moment. He ran to her and knelt beside her prone figure on the floor. She was bleeding on the right side of her head. He heard shouting behind him, scuffling sounds, and then another shot fired followed by breaking glass.
“Sasha, open your eyes, baby … please.” His voice broke on the last word. “Don’t leave me.”
“Never,” she whispered. Her eyes fluttered open, but Rome’s relief quickly turned to mortification when Sasha shrieked. She practically shoved him down right after she kicked out at Vitaly and missed.
Vitaly seethed with rage, blood staining his left shoulder, and then he aimed his gun at him and Sasha.
A single shot made the room go quiet again.
Earlier, everything had moved in slow motion for Rome, but now time seemed to freeze completely, a photograph of the aftermath. Vitaly was dead, lying in a pool of his own blood, his eyes open, his father’s hand outstretched pointing a gun at Vitaly, finger still on the trigger, Andrei and Misha standing beside him, and the guards seemingly about to spring into action.
The world began to turn on its axis again when Sasha spoke. “I was so scared it was you he shot.”
“Aleksandra!” This time Rome was sure it was Andrei’s cry he heard, but he never took his gaze off the precious woman in his arms.
“She’s okay,” Rome quickly reassured them. The blood was coming from a small scratch on the side of her head she must have gotten when she fell. The bullet Vitaly fired never touched her.
And then Andrei was there, kneeling beside them. He tenderly put one hand underneath his daughter’s head and one on Rome’s shoulder. “You saved her life. I am forever in your debt.” He looked up at Boris, who was handing his gun back to Dmitri, and added, “And in your debt.”
“She threw herself in front of my son,” Boris said, his voice thick with emotion. “The debt is mine.”
Andrei stood, walked over to Boris, and held out his hand for him to shake. “Let’s call all debts paid.”
A single shot, and the feud between the two families had finally ended.