Chapter 44
1891words
The sound of laughter rolls through the partially open door of the small building. Beyond the crack, I can see multiple men loitering around a table. Their attitude is relaxed—for the most part. My brigadiers know that when I call them for a meeting, something important is happening.
'Everyone is in there, pakhan," Nikolai speaks beside me.
He's wearing a navy-blue jacket over his taupe slacks. He was the one I instructed to gather the other brigadiers here. Ever since I caught him gossiping with Kostya, he's intentionally kept the two of them separate. I suspect, on some level, that his goal is selfish. Men are quick to do whatever it takes for their own success. Nikolai wants to climb the ladder and be seen as worthy, which means he thinks I consider Kostya to be pathetic.
He's wrong.
While I might have relegated Kostya to less glorifying work like guard duty far below what his rank deserves and I kept him from attending the wedding, it's not because I don't respect him. In truth, my poor treatment was meant to test him.
A lesser man would have turned bitter and fought me.
Kostya, for all his flaws, has accepted every task in silence.
I nod. 'Let's join them," I say, before entering the building.
My home is secure … but there are too many ears there.
'Gentlemen," I say in a loud voice.
They turn as one toward me. There are eight of them in total, including Nikolai. He stands the closest to me. Kostya is tucked all the way in the back corner. The rest form a natural half-circle. On the left is Mikhail, a short man with shoulders bigger than mine. He's one of my best marksmen, but in spite of his steady hand, he's constantly on edge.
Next to him is Iosif. In contrast to Mikhail, he's the tallest in the room. We'd be eye to eye, though he's thin enough that at a distance, he manages the illusion of being taller. He's older than me, but his youthful face hides his age. Despite his age, his loyalty is absolute. That's why I chose him to bear the crown at my wedding.
The two in the middle are nearly twins. Bogdan and Lev. Their fire-red hair is tied in matching ponytails. They aren't related, but they act enough like brothers that it's easy to forget.
Last of all are Maximus—with a nasty scar that bisects his face from his right eyebrow to his chin—and Vyacheslav.
'Thank you for coming on short notice," I continue. 'We have an important topic to discuss."
'Is it Yannick?" Mikhail's question ripples through the group, who all fixate on me with various levels of curiosity.
'No," I say. Folding my arms behind my back, trying to seem relaxed, I make myself smile. 'It's something else."
A few of them perk up—I press on, grabbing at the uplifting mood. I need them to be pleased with me for this to go well. 'You all know that Camila has been here for a week and that she agreed to this wedding as a ploy to lure Yannick out of his hole. A ploy that has failed."
'We're well aware." Kostya stares hard at me. 'The girl has an attitude. Just the other night I caught her trying to slip out the front door again."
Kostya … I assess his stiff posture. He's never liked her. Not since I broke his fingers for speaking about her so crudely. 'But I'll admit, she has a fire in her."
His admiration for her sets off a dark streak of jealousy in me, and suddenly I'm tempted to break his fingers again.
'She's a troublemaker," he finishes.
'Camila is strong," I state, approaching him with purpose. Kostya holds my gaze until I'm standing over him. His formerly broken hand flexes. He's nervous.
Good.
'A woman with such inherent sense of self-worth is rare," I tell him. 'It's allowed her to take charge of the household. She's not afraid of standing up to you, Kostya." I narrow my eyes and he looks away. Standing back, I survey the rest of my men. 'All of you know the strength it takes to challenge fearsome killers like yourselves."
Nikolai smiles crookedly at the compliment. 'You flatter us, Asher Volkov. But you haven't told us your good news yet."
With a light chuckle, I return to the front of the room. 'I plan to make this marriage to Camila official. What might have started as simply a ploy will become a reality."
Vyacheslav gasps. There's a low murmur as my men utter various words of surprise. That, I expected, but my worry that there would be rejection comes true when Kostya slams his fist against the wall.
'You must be joking!"
'I'm not."
'It's not proper!" Lev says.
Bogdan is quick to add his voice as well. 'Be reasonable, my pakhan!"
Nikolai nods rapidly. 'She isn't Bratva. You would be debasing yourself by making this marriage real."
'Yes, she's an outsider," Iosif adds.
The others join in with their arguments. The room is a jumble of chatter, the dissent getting louder and more furious the more time passes. I slam a fist against the wall, cracking the wood paneling with the force of my blow. The clatter startles them into silence.
'Enough!" I roar. 'You all forget your place."
The group simmers in quiet anger. None of them are smiling … The mood is dire. My hope that this could go easy has been tanked.
Angling my chin higher, I gaze at them down my nose with a scowl. 'I am the pakhan. And it is my right to do this."
Kostya kicks the broken tip of the stick across the room. 'Yannick used to say the same thing." His upper lip curls. 'That it was his right to override our opinions. Until one day he couldn't. I think you're familiar with what happened next, Asher Volkov."
My voice is cold as ice. 'Is that a threat, Kostya?"
Kostya holds steady. But when no one else dares to speak up in his support, he recognizes that he has no choice but to concede. 'We merely want what's best for the Bratva," he mumbles. 'My pakhan."
Letting a rush of air out of my nose, I hold my arms wide. It's as vulnerable as I can make myself before them.
'My decision isn't a hasty one, I assure you." Dropping my hands to my hips, I sigh in exasperation. 'This woman … the longer we are together, the more I see that breaking things off is impossible."
'You've fallen for her," Nikolai whispers. 'Haven't you?"
Knitting my brow, I debate how to respond. I never predicted I'd be standing here, exposed before my brigadiers, pleading for them to understand me. When I lost Kristina, I convinced myself that I'd never allow another woman inside my walls. Now I'm fighting to keep Camila at my side. Layla told me I'm holding her heart in my hands. Things have gotten complicated—something I was trying to avoid from the start.
There's no easy path back from this.
But the path forward, difficult as it may be, at least has a light to help me see the way. Her light.
'And she has fallen for me," I say carefully as I look at them one by one. 'I have no desire to harm her tender heart. For that reason, it is my wish to make her my proper wife."
I expect Kostya to speak up. But to my surprise, he ducks his head, shoulders shrugged to his ears, body slumped against the table. He looks uneasy about my decision, but there's no fire left in him to fight me. The other men bow their heads until no one is looking in my direction.
Mikhail steps forward. His arms are like fence posts trapped to his sides. 'If this is truly your wish, then I support you, my pakhan."
My heart thunders.
'I also support you," Nikolai says loudly.
Bogdan and Lev share a look before they move into place together. 'Us as well."
Soon, all of them have declared their vocal approval of my marriage. Kostya is among them, though he utters his words in a bitter hush.
'You are the pakhan. Your duty is to lead, and ours is to obey. If you say you wish to make your marriage with Camila a real one … Who are we to stand in your way?"
I don't need them to be excited for me. I just need them not to stab me in the back.
'Good." I nod. 'Inform your boeviki. Let them know."
Finished with my business, I leave the building, taking wide strides toward my mansion. The tension that had grown in my shoulders like a cancerous tumor fades away with every step I take. I don't know if it's because I'm done telling my brigadiers my plan … or because I'm getting closer to Camila.
Entering my house, I slam the door, moving with intent. I'm driven by a singular hot need to see Camila. Her face—just looking upon it—will help soothe the rabid monster in my brain that demands proof that I did the right thing. I want her to know what I've risked for her. Her approval … her eager reaction … it's all that can comfort me.
I find her in the hallway near her bedroom. She's looking off into the distance, distracted by thoughts I can't see or hear. Not announcing myself, I sweep my arm around her middle, pulling her into my chest.
'Asher!" Instead of hugging me back, she rips away. Stumbling back two steps, her eyes flash with uncertainty. It's a simple rejection, but it cuts me down better than any blade could. 'What are you doing?"
Drawing myself upward, I don't hide my annoyance. 'Hugging you. Is that so wrong?"
Her alluring lips part, but she says nothing. To my surprise, she shrugs me off her and hugs herself, arms binding tight in the way I wanted to touch her. I'm jealous that she can feel her body when I can't.
'Did you need something?"
Baffled by her chilly attitude, I try to make sense of what's gotten into her. 'Why are you acting like this?" I ask tersely.
She still doesn't look at me. 'Like what?"
'Like this!" I gesture wildly. 'Did something happen?"
For a fleeting second, she glances at her mother's door. 'No."
'Camila," I say in a tone that brooks no argument. 'Talk to me."
'About what?" Frowning in my direction, she starts to walk by me toward her room. 'There's nothing to talk about."
My hand grazes her shoulder as she passes. My aim is to halt her, but Camila shoves against me with all her strength. I could push back, easily stopping her in her tracks, but I don't. Her behavior throws me into a mire of confusion. I've never seen her acting like this. Not since she first arrived here. Back then, Camila was a true ice queen. She hated my guts.
I don't have a clue why she's treating me like we're enemies again. But I know one thing for sure. Her body language is screaming at the top of its lungs.
She's hiding something from me.
