TODAY IS THE DAY. My father arrived in New York yesterday morning and has yet to bother me, to make his presence known, or even to call me. Tonight is collection night, and it’s a complete waiting game. Yakov and Dominik’s men are ready, the Irish have checked in, and Patrick’s men are also ready to go. Sergei arrived just a few hours ago with a small crew of his own, and he’s ready as well.
The only person not ready is me.
I didn’t believe that this shit would truly come down to this. I also didn’t believe that my father would put a hit on a Bratva member, especially his own son-in-law.
I try to put everything aside. Mika and Misha almost dying. My sister and her obvious contempt for our father. And Devyn, my sweet wife, whom I continue to fucking cut with my words, over and over again. I don’t have time to dwell on anyone else’s motives but my father’s right now.
Unfortunately, I can’t stop one thing from entering my mind. The updated contract with Patrick. I can’t get the image of how he looked all too thrilled to present it to me. Knowing that something is not right with him, either. I need to deal with my father first, then it’ll be time to deal with the Irish fuck.
“Fei?” Devyn asks as she wraps her arm around me from behind, hitching her leg up and over my hips so that I can feel her hot pussy against my lower back.
I don’t say a word, rolling over in her arms and fitting my hips between her thighs. I need to feel her before I leave, to know that she is waiting for me when I return, that this hot pussy of hers waits for me. That it’s mine, all mine, no matter what happens tonight.
Positioning myself at her entrance, I slide all the way to the root, smiling when her breath hitches against my ear. “Are you sore, my sweet Devvy?” I ask against her ear.
“Yeah, I am,” she admits.
“Good,” I murmur before I rear back and slam inside of her. “I want you to feel me with every breath you take today, devochka.”
I don’t make sweet love to my wife. I passionately fuck her. I slam against her, making her eyes widen and causing her to gasp for air. Her pussy drenches me, and I know she’s enjoying the sweet pain as much as I enjoy giving it to her.
When she comes on a sob, only then do I let my cock fill her with its release. If I could pick any day to create life with Devyn, it would be today, right at this moment—before I take down my crazy fucking father from power.
I walk into the restaurant. The Oleandr—owned by the Bratva and frequented by them often. On collection night, it turns into much more, or at least the back half does. I walk past the hostess, and she dips her chin with a shy smile. I’ve fucked her, more than once. She’s a good piece and very willing to please.
“Timofei,” she whispers. “Will I see you later?”
It’s been a while since I’ve been inside of her, since well before my wedding or my engagement. I would come to her each time I had to visit the city. I don’t know her name, which makes me a much bigger asshole than I care to think about. This girl in front of me doesn’t hold a candle to my wife. I’ve only had Devyn on my mind for over six months. I shake my head with a smile.
“Sorry, I’m a married man now.”
I continue walking toward the back of the restaurant, where I know my father and his men are. This isn’t something I would typically come to, since I don’t have my own crew here yet. Another thing my father is dragging his feet on—assigning me a crew.
Once I make my way to the only door that leads into the meeting room, we are stopped by one of my father’s Kryshas—one of his enforcers. I know him, went to high school with him, and he dips his chin slightly.
“I’m supposed to check every person who enters this door for weapons, Tim,” he rumbles, calling me by the name I went by in school.
“But?” I ask, arching my brow.
“I’m a friend of Konstantin’s,” he grins as he stands to the side, his eyes roaming over every man who is behind me, letting us pass.
Once we’re inside, the door is closed behind us and we’re met with silence. My father sits at the head of a long table, looking like every bit of the tyrant he is turning into, but that isn’t what shocks me. Camilla, the wedding planner I fucked for months, is sitting on his lap.
Women are not allowed at collection, not ever. Only after the money has been counted and exchanged hands do whores or strippers sometimes come in and the men let loose and party. Never during. Never with money in the room.
“Timofei,” my father booms, his eyes connecting with mine.
Looking at him, I see nothing of my papa. He isn’t the same man he was just a few years ago. He’s different, maniacal, hardened, angry and calculating.
“I didn’t know used up whores were allowed at collection. This is a new thing?” I state, loud enough for the entire room to hear.
“You better watch your mouth, you little cunt,” he shouts, his face turning red and spittle flying into the air.
Camilla smirks and crosses her arms under her chest to make her tits appear larger.
“Sloppy seconds, papa? I thought you were better than that,” I smirk.
“What did you say?” he asks, looking from Camilla to me.
I snort. “Fucked her before I got married. Can you still taste my cock when you kiss her?” Camilla gasps, and my father stands, sending the bitch down to the floor with a yelp.
Not one man makes a move, their eyes glued on our exchange. “I could give a fuck about some cheap whore, not when you clearly don’t get your rocks off with her. Instead, you fly all the way to Paris to watch me fuck my wife on my honeymoon. There a reason you decided to do that, papa?”
His face turns so red that it’s starting to take on a purplish color now, but I can’t find it in me to do anything but smile at the bastard. “What do you want?” he shouts.
“To be Pakhan. You need to step down,” I announce. The room stays completely silent, but there’s an air of shock surrounding us now.
“You’ve lost your goddamned mind,” he screams.
Shaking my head, I answer, “No, that’s you. You hired a fifteen-year-old boy to kill Mika. Regardless of your personal feelings for Mika, he’s Bratva, he’s a Brigadier, and you’ve hired more than one hitman to kill him. This time, he could have killed your grandchild.”
“The little bastard, better off that he’s dead,” my father spits. I don’t mistake the sound of rumbling from some of the men around us.
Most of these men are Brigadiers, like I am. They’re husbands, fathers, and in some cases, grandfathers. We were always taught that you don’t fuck with women or children. My father’s crazy is waving around loud and proud right now.
“This shit ends now. Either you walk out of here and relinquish control, or I’ll end it another way. No matter what, it’s done,” I state.
Pasha snorts before he throws his head back with laughter. “You are nothing but a spoiled little cunt. You will never lead any men. Your wife, some Irish whore, will never be good enough to be a Pakhan’s wife. You are nothing, Timofei Vetrov. Nothing but a worthless little piece of shit your mother shot out of her. I’m not even sure you’re mine,” he clucks.
It’s too much. It’s as though he’s fucking taunting me right now. If I were leading with my emotion, the fuck would be dead already.
“What is your endgame, papa?” I ask calmly.
“His endgame is to swindle as much money from the Bratva, the men, their families, and the other Pakhan’s until he can crawl away and hide out, spending his days on the sand like all of the other worthless pieces of shit hiding out in tropical locations,” Sergei states from behind me.
“Sergei,” my father breathes.
“Tell him, Pasha. It didn’t take me too long to figure it out, but it took long enough. Kudos to you for that. Tell your son and your men why the largest operation in the country yields the least amount of profit? Oh, but they don’t know, do they? They make the most and yet, they’re all taking home a fraction of what they took home when Sonia was in charge of your books. You got greedy when you saw all of that money, when there was nobody around to hold you accountable anymore. You got greedy, and you got stupid.” My father’s eyes widen and he shakes his head as his men start to close in on him, anger filling the room.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t even live in America,” my father cries out.
“Hmm, no, I don’t; but I’ve had my own tech guys look into you for a while. We’ve been tracking what comes in, what goes out, and where to. Especially that offshore account that has quadrupled since Sonia’s death. It’s over, old friend,” Sergei states solemnly.
I watch as my father reaches behind his back and pulls out a gun. It all happens so fast that he’s fired two shots before I can get my own out. I fire three shots to his chest and watch as he falls to the ground. It feels like it’s happening in slow motion. I turn to Sergei and see that he’s on the ground as well, but he’s not moving. His eyes are open and there’s blood pooling beneath his body.
Russians and Irishmen rush in and force all of my father’s men against the walls, including Camilla. Dominik, Yakov, and Patrick O’Neil stroll in, as though they’re the kings of the world. I’m on the ground, my hands over Sergei’s lifeless body, trying to put pressure on the wounds, when they stop right in front of me.
“I’ll call Dr. Pavlov,” Dominik announces as he turns and pulls his phone out.
“Pasha’s gone,” Yakov murmurs close to me.
“I don’t give a fuck,” I growl as I look down at a man that I’ve considered my family my entire life.
A man who has done nothing but support and help Oksana and me. A man who has lived a harder life than I could ever have imagined. A man who has lived for the Bratva, who took down Ivan Chekov and his reign. A man who has conquered men of power, and brought them to their knees.
A man I love more than my own father.