Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
No one has seen her since, and I don’t think anyone here cares about her absence. Maybe they’re used to this behavior from her.
Back to the current moment. I stand on the periphery of the professionally decorated garden as part of security. If it weren’t for the black and white velvet tablecloths and the image of the deceased man, one would think this was a wedding reception.
The part that makes me stop and stare isn’t the number of people with a dangerous aura in one place. It’s also not the one-hundred-eighty-degree change in both Yulia’s and Konstantin’s behavior in public compared to their viciousness in private.
It’s how utterly composed Kirill is through the whole thing.
Every now and then, I can’t help ogling him. In my defense, I don’t mean to, and I usually stop when I notice I’ve been looking for too long, but it’s a compulsion I can’t put an end to.
Maybe I am taking my bodyguard role way too seriously, and I’m watching him this frequently to be able to protect him.
At least, that’s what I tell myself every time my eyes stray in his direction. On the other end of the garden, he stands with a few higher-ups from the Bratva, one hand in his pocket and the other clutching a drink.
He’s in a dashing black suit, tie, and shoes, looking straight out of a fashion show. We’re all wearing black suits, but he’s the only one who makes it appear regal. The black-framed glasses add a sense of powerful intelligence to his sharp features.
On anyone else, those glasses would look nerdy, but on Kirill, there’s something entirely sinister about them. It’s his expression, I realize. There’s an overpowering control lurking beneath his calm façade. A dangerous edge that’s pushing him to accomplish more, no matter what price he has to pay.
He had already lost half of his men, and even that didn’t stop him.
Probably nothing ever will.
A finger taps my shoulder, and when I look to the side, Maksim pokes my cheek with his forefinger and then grins, appearing proud of himself.
“Aren’t you tired, Sasha? You should go rest for a bit.”
“I’m fine.”
“You won’t be saying the that when you’re deathly exhausted by the end of the day. And it’s going to be a looong day.”
“Because of the funeral?”
“Because of what happens after the funeral.” He juts his chin in the direction of Yulia and Konstantin, who are also in their own small circle with the mafia leaders. “Those two won’t stop until they have power over the Morozov family, and guess who’s in their way.”
“Kirill?”
“Correct. I wouldn’t be surprised if they sent those snipers to the last mission we went on, just to get rid of him. His recent return that’s coincided with the old boss’s death is the worst disaster that could’ve befallen them.”
“But wasn’t he named the heir in his father’s will?” The lawyer was ushered here the day of Roman Morozov’s death, and he read the will to the family.
Kirill is to inherit ninety percent of his father’s assets—that includes countless properties, cars, a plane, and a multi-billion-dollar stock fortune. Karina gets ten percent on the condition that she signs away her votes to Kirill and assigns him as her proxy. In fact, considering her ‘challenged’ state, Kirill is named as her guardian and that gives him the authority to not only have control over her money but also to throw her in any mental institute if he chooses to.
Konstantin and Yulia only got one thing—permission to live in the house with Kirill and only if, no surprise, they don’t challenge his authority.
Needless to say, his brother threw a fit and threatened to sue. However, Yulia, who didn’t look surprised in the least, just grabbed him, and they left together.
Maksim hums thoughtfully. “On paper, yes.”
“What does that mean?”
“The will means nothing if he can’t prove himself in the real world. In other words, he has to snatch back the power Konstantin and Yulia have been building during all the years he was gone. Yes, Boss had his father’s support, but not everyone will blindly follow his will. It’s a psychological game that’s a lot harder than it looks.”
I inch closer to my friend. “Whose support does he need?”
“The main players’, of course. First of all, the Pakhan.” He points at an old man with whitening hair and a calm, wise demeanor. “Sergei Sokolov, head of the Bratva ever since his brother died. He’s kind of laid-back, but he’s strict and has old ways. Second of all, his similarly old-fashioned friends are the two next to him. Igor.” Maksim juts his chin in the direction of the strongly-built older man. He looks like a wrestler but has a white beard, hair, and a few wrinkles around his eyes. “That’s the first of the four kings. His household is self-sufficient and shrouded in mystery, but he’s been close to the current and previous Pakhans. In fact, he’s known them since they were young, so anything he says or recommends will have a major impact on Sergei’s decision-making process.”