CHAPTER THREE:
VIKTOR
“Dutiful. Honorable. Strong. Cunning. My father Boris was one hell of a man, and raised me and my brothers right. He fought hard. Let him not die in vain.” Viktor raised his glass of vodka to finish the eulogy. “For Boris Sokolov!”
“For Boris!” The rest of the men shouted out in agreement with their glasses held high. The sound of clinking was followed by quiet as everyone took a heavy drink.
Viktor pounded back several gulps of vodka and slammed his glass down onto the table. The rest of the men looked up.
“I know you all are good men, and were loyal to my father. But whoever killed him is still free. Our only chance at revenge comes from unity, brotherhood, bratva. Just as you were all so loyal to him, now you must all be loyal to me as he who is next in line,” Viktor said.
He looked the men over with a steely expression, as though daring any of them to challenge him. No one did.
Good, Viktor thought. No one should dare. As ever, fear is the key to respect and power.
“Who else could it be other than competing mobs? Has there been anything new discovered?” he asked the group. A few men shifted in their seats while others took to staring into their vodka.
“There is a gun runner, Anatoly Popov, who has been making inroads into our business,” Daniil, the leader of their Obshchak—a security group—said through his mustache, his pot belly pressed into the table. “Just a few deals here and there, though. We do not know much more.”
Viktor considered the man’s words as another voice scattered his thoughts.
“If Boris was indeed murdered, justice needs to be swift and merciless,” Iosif, a thick-armed Brodyaga said. “But you are not Boris. You are a boy with no experience. You do not have it in you.”
Viktor set his glass down. He stalked toward Iosif like a prowling tiger and leaned in to get in the man’s face. How dare this man question him? His anger spread like fire through his body, his muscles tensed and ready for engagement.
They stared each other down. Iosif did not apologize, and did not look away; Viktor didn’t like the fact that he wouldn’t stand down, even when he confronted him so closely.
Viktor’s hand closed around his collar. With a grace and speed unexpected of someone with such a powerful build, he turned him and slammed the man into the wall. The rest of the group watched tensely, but most stayed in their seats. Only one of them rose from his seat and spoke.
“Allow me.” It was Kostya, one of Viktor’s brothers. He was grinning and eager for bloodshed. Kostya didn’t wait for response—even as Viktor took a step to the side, Kostya charged Iosif where he stood against the wall and sent a fist into his skull. Then another, and another.
Viktor stepped back toward the table. He watched Kostya wail on the man until the naysayer was bloody and trembling. Viktor couldn’t take the sight of violence any longer, however; his father’s death had been more than enough bloodshed for one day.
“Kostya. Enough!” Viktor snapped. Kostya stopped, looked to his older brother with a smirk, and dropped the man. He hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. Viktor looked the group of men over, pleased with the discomfort he saw in their eyes.
“All of you. Go.” He ran a tongue along the front of his teeth. The men at the table glanced to one another warily, as though uncertain of whether to move. Then Kostya strolled out the door, which seemed to spur the rest of the group toward leaving.
“Take him with you.” Viktor pointed to the bloodied man on the floor. Two men from the group grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him into the hall while the rest cleared out.
When the room was empty, Viktor closed the door and leaned against it. He ground his teeth and resisted the urge to throw one of the chairs as a heavy sigh escaped his lips, and then he sat back down at the head of the table and stared into his glass of vodka.
There, Viktor sat in silence, drinking, until his stomach and chest were warm and his anger had drifted away. He didn’t know how much time had passed, and didn’t particularly care.
The doorknob clicked. Viktor lifted his head to see Alexandra poke her face into the room. When her eyes found him, she gave him a slow smile.
Viktor just glared at her. Interrupting his meeting earlier had not been enough for her—now his new wife would interrupt his private time? Yes, they were married, but Viktor considered Alexandra a relative stranger. He felt irritation prickling at him.
“I know today has been so difficult for you, Viktor. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now,” she said as she slipped into the room and closed the door behind her.
He didn’t bother responding, and only watched her, examining her. There was something soft in her voice, something that felt like a satin ribbon sliding against his skin. He was surprised to find his irritation waning.
She approached him slowly from the doorway, and Viktor noticed for the first time the short, tight dress she’d changed into after the wedding. It rode just a little too high, and gave him a view of the woman he’d married—it was the first time he had seen her figure. She was toned, with a trim physique that accentuated her curves perfectly.
He felt his pulse rise a bit, but his face remained stone-like.
“Today was a very strange day for me,” she offered. “It had to be strange and sad for you.” She stood behind his chair. Her hand slipped down from the top of his head, along his ear, and down his neck. Viktor felt his clenched jaw begin to relax.
“Let me help you feel better?” She moved to stand directly in front of him and caressed the side of his face. He looked her over and felt a stir of lust.
Viktor continued to stare at her, but his glare had softened, and there was a hint of captivation behind his eyes. He barely knew this woman, hadn’t planned on marrying his father’s bride-to-be, but there was something about the way she touched him, about the way she spoke to him, that he couldn’t deny had some power.
His anger from the meeting had mingled with burgeoning lust and, now, confusion. He pushed his tongue around in his mouth dryly. Perhaps he shouldn’t have had so much vodka. He wasn’t drunk, but felt a little tipsy.
Alexandra moved closer to him. She straddled his lap and tilted her head at him. From how close she was, Viktor was gifted with a fuller view of her gorgeous upper body. He slowly grew hard.
“Yes,” he said, the single word breathed out from between Viktor’s lips with hunger.