A Beauty So Cursed by Beena Khan

Chapter 1

ONCE UPON A TIME…

A beauty was born into the Solntsevskaya Bratva.

A queen named Roza Ivanova.

The daughter of a Pakhan.

A monster kidnapped her. A Beast. Enzo Vitalli was the kind of evil, mankind shook even thinking about.

Corrupt. Immoral. Unforgivable.

During captivity, she had her firstborn.

Vlad Vitalli.

Everyone knew about him… but not everyone knew about her secret baby.

Her second born.

Miran Demir lifted his eyes and stared at Vladimir Vitalli—his half-brother.

Studying Vlad, he noticed that they were both tanned and tall, over six-foot, although, Vlad was leaner, and he was stockier. Vlad met his stoic expression with ashy eyes. Both were silent, and he was unsure of how to begin. It was too late for formal introductions after everything they had been through.

A happy reunion wasn’t for them.

After a few moments of awkward eye contact, he broke off the stare and glanced at the red gilded gates of Alexei Nikolaev’s residence.

The previous Pakhan of the Bratva.

A large white mansion stood behind those gates.

“Should we wait for them to call us in?” a deep, female voice

asked from behind.

Miran glanced over his shoulder and met Dahlia’s almond

shaped amber eyes in the backseat. Her black, thick eyebrows were raised, and her eyes sparkled in excitement. His gaze fell on her green blouse and tight black jeans. She even wore heels for a change. Her midnight, long hair was in curls with her face adorned with more makeup than usual.

She was meeting his family today.

Her mother-in-law.

“No,” he replied, remembering her original question.

She sheepishly shrugged before scrunching her small nose.

They all planned on meeting the Russian family before the couple left New York in a week. He didn’t know where their destination lay, but he would find out eventually. He hadn’t informed them, but the DEA still tracked Vlad to this day even though the former Don had immunity.

One could never be too sure…

“Is it wrong to think I thought they would welcome us with balloons?”

Miran was amused. “Are you a newly wedded bride?”

Dahlia gave a lopsided smile. “Actually, I am.”

Then, she glanced at her husband sitting next to Miran in the passenger seat. Dahlia and Vlad had disappeared in the last five days, and when they had returned, she sported a wedding ring on her hand.

“Is… my mother inside?” Vlad asked in a low voice.

He turned to look at him. “She’s waiting for you.”

She’s been waiting thirty-three years.

As if on cue, the gilded gates opened, welcoming them in.

“Is this safe?” Vlad asked.

Miran faced forward and pressed on the accelerator.

“They won’t attack you. They never have before.”

When he didn’t hear a reply, he glanced at Vlad’s hand drumming on his knees lightly. Vlad wore all black. Black shoes. Black shirt. Black pants. His hair was messier and tousled like he’d purposefully messed it up. Miran hated suits but wore formal clothes too. Although, his hair was more polished than Vlad’s.

After a few moments, Vlad spoke again.

“I’m not giving them my weapons at check-in.”

Miran curtly nodded before pulling the car in park and exiting. “You don’t have to. I never give them my guns either.”

It wasn’t that that he didn’t trust Alexie. He did, but he couldn’t part with his weapons. They were a part of him. As director of the DEA, he was always armed even when he slept at night.

His gaze wandered to the couple still seated inside the car and stared at them curiously. Dahlia leaned forward from the backseat and brushed her hand against Vlad’s, and Vlad’s sharp eyes fell on the mansion, memorizing it like a hawk.

They both exited.

Vlad inspected the golden marble porch and all of them made their way toward the mansion’s front door. One of the byki’s—bodyguards keeping watch opened it. The guard asked them to wait inside and closed the door behind him. Vlad’s hand latched to the gun that was on his back as he eyed his surroundings.

Miran watched him the entire time.

Alexei didn’t keep security in his home. The byki were only stationed around the perimeters of the mansion.

The hallway was endless as they walked, approaching the massive living room. Vlad stared at the large red couch with black handlebars in scrutiny like there was a bomb under it. In contrast, Dahlia plopped her bottom on it, like it was her home. Her guard was dropped, and she looked comfortable.

She trusted him, whereas Vlad…

Well, why get into that now?

Both men sat on the opposite side of Dahlia and waited quietly. Melancholic silence fell, and Miran glanced at the walls of photographs of his family members. Turning his face away, his gaze met the white granite tiles on the ground. He always came as a guest and as a DEA director, never staying too long in case any of the guards were suspicious of him.

Few people knew that he had Bratva blood in his veins … and now Vlad and Dahlia.

He glanced to his right and caught Vlad eying him right back with a frown. The first two buttons of his black shirt were unbuttoned, and Miran caught the black wings on his chest.

The Phoenix.

Miran jerked his head up to Vlad’s face.

Ever since he revealed the truth to Vlad, the former Don had been throwing brooding glares whenever he had the chance.

“Spit it out,” Miran challenged at last.

Dahlia watched the exchange curiously but said nothing.

Vlad’s feral gray eyes flashed.

The deep ice in them was harsh and unforgiving. And cold like the winter. Hatred still churned in his stare and his deep silence. Vlad wasn’t a man of many words. He was quiet, reserved, but lethal when he acted.

“You know that I was your brot—" Vlad paused before correcting himself, “that we were related, yet you tortured me in prison. Why?”

Ah, so that’s what’s on his mind.

Miran assumed he was going to get yelled at again for hiding the truth. He glanced at Dahlia whose face turned into a grimace before she fiddled with her fingers nervously. He frowned at her fidgety hands. She often did that when she was overwhelmed.

He glanced up from her and arched an eyebrow at Vlad.

“I didn’t know you.”

He hoped that answer was sufficient, but Vlad didn’t seem to be backing down.

“I didn’t trust you,” Miran continued, “Enzo Vitalli kidnapped my mother and tortured her. I assumed you had done the same thing to Dahlia.”

“You hated my father, that’s why you targeted us first?” Vlad questioned.

Miran replied, “He deserves to be punished for his crimes. It was more personal, but the Vitalli Family is more dangerous than the other Families.”

“What if Dahlia landed in the wrong Family’s hand?”

“She can speak for herself,” Dahlia butted in.

Both ignored her and continued their conversation anyway.

“If it wasn’t you, it would have been Salvi Moretti next,” Miran replied.

Vlad’s eyes darkened.

It pleased his cold insides when Vlad’s jaw ticked.

“You shit.”

Vlad reached out to grab his collar, but Dahlia pushed him back. She glanced at Vlad and flashed a cheeky smile. The fierceness in Vlad’s eyes slowly vanished as he took her face in. If Miran was a romantic, he would think it was sweet that a notorious Don had turned into a puddle at the hands of a woman, but he wasn’t romantic at all.

“You guys should kiss and make up,” Dahlia butted in.

At the same time, both men sneered at each other.

Dahlia sighed. “How about you both kiss me on the cheek?”

Miran had never kissed her before, not even on the cheek.

Vlad glared at Miran, daring him, “Do it, and I will cut off your balls.”

“Not if I cut off yours first,” Miran challenged.

Dahlia facepalmed her hand against her forehead. “There’s too much testosterone in this room. Come on. You men have enmity with each other. I’m a third party, and no, “she continued, glancing at Vlad, “you’re not cutting anything off.”

Vlad glared at her, but he didn’t argue.

Miran hid a smirk at the sight of him being schooled.

“Kiss me, please,” Dahlia whined.

When they didn’t, she declared, “It’s an order.”

Miran sighed and stared stonily at Dahlia’s twinkling eyes lit up with mischief. That sparkle in her eyes told him she was planning something. Before he could question it, Dahlia pointed a finger at each side of her face. Both men leaned in to kiss the opposite side of her cheeks.

Just as Miran’s lips were about to brush against her face, she jerked her head back, giggling like a toddler.

Startled, his eyes widened in alarm when he realized how close he was to Vlad. Their eyes stared at each other, horrified. Vlad grimaced, pulled back, and shook his head at Dahlia. Miran blinked slowly, disgusted, before pulling back.

Vlad glanced at Dahlia and hissed, “That was not funny.”

“Unfortunately, I do have to agree,” Miran chimed in.

Dahlia's eyes sparkled in delight. Miran’s lips twitched, seeing her little moment of joy before he bit the inside of his cheek to not smile. It was nice to see her happy.

“Oh, come on, lighten up,” Dahlia said, giving them one of her grins. “Are all Bratva blood incapable of smiling?” she joked. “You should smile with dimples and all.”

She reached out and poked them both in the cheeks where their dimple lay.

Miran glanced at Vlad who rested his back against the couch and lay his arm on the black handlebar of the couch. He looked like he wanted to choke Dahlia.

“I found out he was Bratva two seconds ago,” Vlad muttered.

“Two weeks ago,” Miran corrected, “And I am not Bratva. My parents were.”

“Same shit.”

Before Miran could counter, Dahlia spoke first, “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Miran glanced at her. Her tone didn’t sound hurt, but the disapproval was in her voice. He knew that she was still riled that he hid the truth from her too.

“It wasn’t safe, Lia. No one could know about my parents. The less people knew, the better,” he said softly, meeting her curious gaze. “I didn’t want… Enzo to find out. I only revealed the truth when it was safe to after I arrested him.”

Speaking of arrest, Enzo—his stepfather—was in lockdown in a maximum-security cell. Miran hadn’t visited him yet, but his body tingled in anticipation of seeing him and boiling his body. He cracked his knuckles, imagining Enzo’s face was in his hands. He could feel himself getting aroused imagining the blood seeping out of the mobster’s body and seeing the terror in his eyes. A rush traveled to his body, and he shifted his legs, trying to hide the visible boner in his black pants.

Fuck. That couldn’t be good.

He hoped Dahlia wouldn’t see and realize that her—once—guardian was a sadistic, violent man of nature. He liked to blame it on his Russian Bratva genes.

“I guess everything makes sense now. Your purpose to go after the Vitalli Family,” Dahlia replied, interrupting his thoughts and breaking him out of his trance. Her voice held no judgment, only wonderment.

“I knew my mother suffered, but I didn’t know the details,” Vlad added in a low voice.

Miran glanced behind Dahlia, at him.

“She’s strong.”

Vlad nodded and fell silent. After a few moments, he swallowed hard and asked quietly, “What else is she like?

Miran felt a pang of pity in his soul that shocked him. Vlad never had the chance to know their mother, Enzo had taken it away from him. After a few seconds, pondering over his thoughts, a small smile formed on his lips.

“She’s everything,” he murmured.

Vlad opened his mouth to speak, but a deep smooth voice in the background interrupted them, “Well, I’ve never thought I’d see Vladimir Vitalli in my home.”

All eyes fell on the new person who spoke.

Miran nodded in greeting when he met Alexander Nikolaev’s black eyes—his cousin, the grandson of Alexei, and the Pakhan. He had been ruling for the past five years.

His cousin had an aura and a flair about him that demanded attention as soon as he entered the room. A staggering height of six-foot-four with lean and hard muscles. His raven-colored, silky long locks were swept and styled behind his pale skin. He strolled in a long, black fitted blazer over a button-down white, satin shirt paired with black pants. His dark eyes fell on the group before landing on Vlad.

Vlad sat upright when he noticed Alexander.

Alexander looked away from Vlad before his black eyes fell on Dahlia. His fingers grazed through the light beard growing on his skin, and Miran’s gaze caught a black tattoo on the back of his hand. The thin tentacles wrapped around the back and disappeared to his palm.

The Spider.

His eyes fell from Dahlia’s and did a quick sweep over her dress, lingering on her curves. A spark of fury ran through Miran’s blood, tempting to boil Alexander for checking her out.

“Where’s Dimitri?” Miran asked, trying to distract Alexander.

“Little brother wasn’t willing to come.” His eyes fell on Vlad before adding, “He doesn’t like the idea of an Italian in our home.”

Vlad only stared stonily.

Miran frowned. “You could’ve given him an order.”

Alexander only smirked.

“Hello… Mr. Pakhan,” Dahlia said after a moment.

His cousin still eye-fucked Dahlia.

The Pakhan smirked. “Alexander.”

Dahlia stared with mild curiosity and tensed shoulders.

“It’s an honor to meet the woman who brought the five Families in,” Alexander added smoothly.

His leather shoes moved forward to greet her.

Miran was just about to chide him, but he was interrupted.

“Don’t even think about coming near my wife,” Vlad growled.

The room fell quiet, and the tension in the room made Miran’s pulse spike.

Alexander looked at Vlad and paused before ignoring him and returning his attention to Dahlia. “I feel left out now. When will I be in handcuffs?” he spoke. His face held no smile, but his dark eyes filled with a mischievous glint.

Miran glanced at Vlad who looked like he wanted to throttle Alexander. He was just about to get up, but Dahlia grabbed his arm and shoved him back in his seat.

“Watch it,” Vlad ordered Alexander.

Dahlia was more relaxed now, and the tension in her shoulders left. “I’m retired,” she replied at last.

Well, fired, Miran wanted to correct, but deep down, he knew she had left the force before she was officially laid off. She wasn’t the same after she had told him she didn’t want any more assignments. It had just taken him longer to realize.

Now, it wasn’t a good idea to say that he offered the Bratva as her next assignment. He didn’t plan on sending her to take down Alexander but someone in another position. His cousin did a lot of fucked up shit, but Miran was primarily after one person in the Bratva.

“Well, that’s disappointing,” Alexander said, then, he raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Maybe you can come work for me.”

Miran rolled his eyes at the size of balls his cousin had to flirt with her in front of Vlad. He was just about to tell him to cut it out, but someone spoke before him.

“If you can’t learn to shut your mouth, my gun will gladly meet the back of it.”

All heads turned to Vlad’s edgy voice.

“You don’t have any authority here, Vladimir,” Alexander replied and took a seat on the opposite end of the room. He leaned forward and rested his hands on the armrest of his throne. “You touch me, and my men will kill you without a second thought.”

Miran figured the two had a history together, and it wasn’t the first time they had met. At least, he didn’t have to introduce them. It saved him the awkwardness.

“Really?” Vlad mocked as he reached toward his back and pulled out a gun, pointing it at Alexander. “It will take ten seconds for your men to come inside. By that time, you will be dead.”

Miran tensed up, and his lips set in a grim expression. He hoped the gun Vlad was carrying was licensed. He wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t.

“How about a classic game of Russian Roulette first?” Vlad challenged.

Alexander’s jaw ticked before he pulled out his gun and raised it in the air.

Miran had enough. “Stop it.”

His voice boomed, catching everyone’s attention.

“This is a peaceful meeting. Put away your guns, now.”

Vlad only stared sternly. At least Alexander lowered his gun.

Miran glared at them. “If you both don’t, I will arrest you for possessions of unlicensed weapons.”

Well, that got their attention. The threat made them put away their guns reluctantly. Once the weapons were placed away, Miran relaxed slightly.

“If I wanted, I could take the next seat available. Yours,” Vlad threatened, taking a jab at Alexander.

Miran watched the exchange stonily.

Rightfully, Alexander was not the true Pakhan or the rightful heir. Vladimir was the first son of Roza Ivanova. He could be Pakhan but…

Alexander’s eyes darkened before he replied, “Italians will never rule over the Bratva.”

…and that was why no one would ever accept Vlad as the Pakhan, even if their mother advocated for it.

“Is that why you stole the seat for yourself?” Vlad jabbed.

Miran wanted to facepalm his forehead at the tension escalating again. In less than five minutes of meeting each other, they were already bickering.

“But Turkish and Arabs can rule,” a croaky voice teased.

All eyes fell on the new voice.

Miran stood to his feet when he noticed his mother and Khala, Aunt Galina enter with Alexei. He made his way toward them. Behind him, the couch springs popped when someone on the couch followed suit. He didn’t know if it was Vlad, Dahlia, or both. Not bothering to glance behind, he crouched in front of Alexei’s wheelchair. Alexei was in his early eighties, and he couldn’t walk well because of chronic problems. He sported a silver beard and a full head of silvery hair.

Miran met Alexei’s warm blue eyes as he leaned over and kissed his hand swiftly.

Footsteps followed behind Miran. He assumed it was Vlad, but it surprised him when a feminine voice spoke.

“Hello, I am Dahlia.”

Alexei looked away from Miran before glancing up at her.

“Yes, I’ve heard so much about you,” Alexei teased.

In the past two weeks, Dahlia had been given the nickname, The Seductress by the mobs. Vlad, of course, hated it and wanted to burn those who spoke it alive. Miran snapped out of his thoughts and focused on the conversation.

Dahlia grinned at Alexei and tucked her hair behind her ear.

Miran assumed she’d taken a liking to Alexei and hadn’t taken offense. Sweet old people were kind of hard to dislike.

“I never had a grandfather before,” Dahlia said softly.

Miran looked at her in surprise.

Technically, Alexei was his granduncle.

“That’s enough, Doll.”

Miran glanced back at Vlad’s deep voice that boomed behind them. Vlad rose, but he hadn’t made a move to come toward them. His eyes weren’t on Alexei anymore, he focused on the people who had wheeled the man in.

Galina Ivanova.

Roza Ivanova.

Vlad darted his eyes from one woman to another, probably trying to figure out who was his mother. Miran hadn’t shown him a photograph of her, and Vlad didn’t know what she looked like. Miran thought it was best if he saw her live. After a few seconds, Vlad’s eyes settled onto their mother Roza, scrutinizing her.

She was still beautiful to this day.

Her soulful black eyes were stunning, and when they crinkled, her wrinkles appeared. Moving away from Alexei’s wheelchair, her small frame slowly approached Vlad. Her chest-length black locks swayed as she walked and paused a few feet when she reached him.

Miran gazed as his mother took the sight of her firstborn in.

Vlad didn’t close the distance and stood stiff like a board. His eyes briefly fell on their mother’s neck, at the rose tattoo marking her flesh.

Miran wanted to walk over there and kick him in the balls for not hugging their mother already. She walked closer to Vlad, and her legs wobbled. Miran couldn’t see her expression anymore since she turned her back. With shaking hands, she reached up to cup Vlad’s face but then… Vlad stepped back.

Miran silently growled when his mother paused at the rejection, her hands still in the air. A protective instinct filled his heart. He turned away from Alexei and took a step toward Vlad, but a hand latched onto his wrist, stopping him.

He glanced impatiently at Dahlia who only said, “He is overwhelmed,” as she stared at her husband, “He needs time to adjust.”

Before he could say something, Alexei suggested calmly, “Roza, my dear niece, why don’t we all have a seat for now?”

His mother stood still for a few moments before she slowly turned around and nodded. She glanced up, and Miran’s blood churned at the sight of her red-rimmed eyes, her rosy cheeks stained with tears. She reached up to wipe her face and retreated with shaky legs.

Dahlia stepped in and said, “I am Vlad’s wife.”

His mother glanced at her, surprised at the voice before she gave Dahlia a hesitant smile. “You are as exquisite as they all have said.” Her smile turned into a grin, her dimmed eyes slowly brightening.

“She is, сестра,” Galina chimed on. Sister.

“Thank you,” Dahlia replied, her cheeks coloring slightly.

“Come sit with me?”

His mother’s voice was so hopeful, it squeezed his icy heart. He sighed in relief when Dahlia nodded eagerly. She could finally have the family reunion she wanted all her life. Seeing his mother grab Dahlia’s hand, he knew they might bond well.

At least someone appreciates her.

The fire in Miran slowly faded. His mother collected her composure and sat down on the opposite end of the room, on the couch next to Alexander’s seat. Dahlia sat with her, followed by his aunt. They settled on the same large couch besides Alexei, leaving Vlad alone.

He glanced at Vlad sitting and staring at the floor in silence.

He didn’t do hugs, but he wouldn’t kick a man when he was down. Exhaling slowly, he made his way to Vlad and sat down next to him. He couldn’t offer any words because he felt if he spoke, he would end up misspeaking and cause chaos.

He gave Vlad the only thing he could do at the moment: his presence.

As if Vlad sensed him, he glanced up with pained and stricken gray eyes.

Vlad quickly looked away before rubbing the back of his neck and exhaling. He made himself comfortable on the couch and before Miran knew it, brooding Vlad had returned.

“Hello, Vladimir,” Alexei said politely.

Vlad gave a slow, curt nod before replying, “Alexei. I’m surprised you let me come here.”

Alexei glanced at Roza. “When your mother was in Turkey, she called me every day, and in those daily conversations, at least five times, she has mentioned you.”

Vlad’s eyes fell on his mother, holding eye contact briefly before breaking it off.

“The chaos that occurred decades ago had nothing to do with you,” Alexei replied gently. “It was your grandfathers’, Maxim and Antonio’s rivalry. We lost lives at both ends. I’ve never hated you, Vladimir. You are my Roza’s son. She is a part of me like a daughter… which means you’re a part of us.”

Vlad looked startled and stumped. After a few silent moments, he asked, “Why didn’t you retaliate when my father killed…” He glanced at their mother, “Irina?”

At the mention of their youngest khala, their mother sucked in a sharp breath.

“We didn’t want to risk another war,” Alexei admitted.

Taking the hint after Vlad hadn’t replied, Alexei seemed to back off. “So, as I was saying,” he began, and all heads turned in his direction again. “When are you,” he eyed Miran, “going to take your place as Pakhan, Miran?”

He held in a deep sigh. Alexei was big on principles, and for him, it mattered that the leadership should be restored to the rightful ruler.

“I’m satisfied with my current line of work,” Miran replied.

Alexei shook his head in disapproval and frowned.

“Is this the legacy of my brother-in-law, of the Ivanov family? The firstborn can’t rule because he is half Italian,” he glanced at Vlad before focusing on Miran, “And the second born can but is neglecting his duties. What a mess.”

Miran looked away and pretended to be fascinated by his clean nails instead. Pretense was good. Hopefully, his granduncle would stop talking.

“The Bratva tainted by the DEA? Cops and criminals don’t mix,” Alexei continued scolding him.

“Do they not?” Dahlia chimed in.

Miran glanced up from his nails and caught a smile tugging at her lips.

Alexei lost his frown and replaced it with a chuckle.

Her magic was working on an old man like Alexei too.

Miran stifled a laugh that wanted to erupt from his throat.

“Oh, leave my son alone,” his mother butted in, glaring at her uncle. “Besides, Alexander is doing just fine. Aren’t you, my boy?” she asked, looking in his direction.

Alexander only smirked.

“I second that. Miran is better off in the DEA,” his Khala Galina butted in.

Alexei and Roza started talking at once, arguing, losing themselves in the conversation. Miran closed his eyes, and he wished he could shut off his ears too. It was always the same argument. His granduncle wanted him to rule as Pakhan whereas he had no interest in it, but it was difficult to argue with an elderly man with a personality of a persistent toddler.

“That’s a great idea. Take your place as Pakhan but secretly work for the DEA, and in the end, sell everyone out,” Vlad murmured.

Miran’s eyes snapped open. He heard the dig, but he ignored it. “I do wish for them to stop the bloodshed, but I could never lie and sell them out… Not Alexei and Zander.”

“And why not? You did it to me indirectly.”

Their voices were low and hushed so only they could hear each other.

“They are my family,” Miran slipped out.

After a moment, he realized how brutal the words sounded and internally winced. Vlad was his family too by blood, and knowing this, in the past, he’d created a plan for him to be arrested. Miran pinched the bridge of his nose and stared straight ahead.

“Look, I can’t change the past,” Miran said under his breath.

Vlad was silent as he listened.

“Aren’t you lying to your police force by not arresting them?” Vlad questioned with curiosity.

“I don’t have any evidence on them. I just know that they engage in illegal activities. That’s a gut feeling, but they don’t talk about their business trade in front of me,” Miran replied. “They’re not stupid.”

He exhaled before continuing, “Alexander is like my brother.” A timid smile played on his lips. “I’m aware that he has killed his men for coming after me, although, again, he leaves no evidence behind. He will destroy those who harm his family… just like me,” he turned to look at Vlad, “and you.”

Vlad’s jaw ticked before he nodded slowly.

Miran turned his face and straight ahead at Alexander who was conversating with Alexei. “They both can give the order to have me killed, but I am still alive. No one in the Bratva can touch me based on their orders. They are powerful, they know what I do for a living, yet they have kept my identity a secret, that I am related to them. In the past, I did what I did, what I had to because, you were just another criminal for me, even though you are my…”

He struggled to get the next word out. It was hard for him to accept Vlad as his brother, so he settled for, “blood. I didn’t know you then. I still don’t but… I overlooked your past because you left the Cosa Nostra. You have immunity now.”

“What if I leak your identity?” Vlad challenged with a threat. “I’m not loyal to you.”

Miran arched an eyebrow. “If you do, then you will lose many people. This long-lost family that you’re meeting now will be the first and last time you’d be seeing them… Our mother,” his eyes fell on a laughing Dahlia, “And even her.”

Vlad followed his gaze, and his jaw tensed.

“How do you know she won’t pick me over you?”

Miran eyed Dahlia again.

“If you truly know her, you will know that she chooses sides based on her morality. If you sell me out, I know she will stand by my side.”

“How can you be a straight man with a dick and not find her attractive?” Vlad asked bluntly.

Miran was startled before he collected his composure and stonily met Vlad’s icy gray eyes. He tried to stifle a laugh that wanted to erupt from his throat, but he could feel his lip twitching. The smile never surfaced to his lips. Instead, he trapped it with the rest of his bottled emotions and shoved it back inside his body. He cleared his throat, catching the attention of Alexander who arched an eyebrow.

After a moment, he replied, “I found her when she was seventeen. It’s hard to see her as anything else to this day.”

Vlad fell silent now, and Miran waited for another threat, but it never came.

At least they had exchanged more words in this conversation than they had ever before. It was a start of… something.

“I gave you another chance since you’ve chosen a different path for yourself. Don’t risk it because you hate me,” he added.

He glanced at Vlad who looked at him in wonderment. He broke off eye contact and stared straight ahead again and glanced at his mother who was smiling at what Dahlia had said.

“When will you give her a chance?” Miran asked, raising his eyebrows at their mother. He glanced at Vlad who sucked in his teeth and shot lasers at him through his eyes.

Vlad raked a hand through his tousled, black hair as he sneaked a glance at their mother who was stealing glances at her firstborn in return. Eventually, these two would get chummy with each other.

Miran wondered where his father, Kaya, was. Probably hidden in the house in case of Vlad’s reaction.

Vlad replied, “How would you react when your dead mother appeared in the flesh?”

Miran had no reply since he couldn’t compare.

Alexei intervened, “Miran, I want to speak to you about another important matter too, and this time I need a final answer.”

Miran looked up and raised an eyebrow.

“Lada Sokolova,” Alexei replied to his unanswered question.

Miran sighed deeply and slumped back into the couch, his back feeling like spaghetti. He felt cornered and trapped. He’d never met Lada or seen her picture before. She was the daughter of one of the older men in the circle of the Bratva Brotherhood, the daughter of Adrian Sokolov—who served as Sovietnik, the councilor to the Pakhan.

He knew little about her.

He rubbed his forehead and stared Alexei dead in the eye.

“My answer is still no. I have no interest in settling down.”

He could feel Vlad watching him again.

Alexei opened his mouth to protest, but Miran continued, “I’m too dedicated to my work. I’m barely home, and I work in the field. I don’t need a wife.”

“What he means to say is that he is boring,” Alexander said, “His wife would probably end up cheating on him,” then, he cockily added, “probably with me.”

Zasranetc.

Asshole. His mother had taught him Russian from a young age. Miran gave him the middle finger when his mother and Alexie weren’t looking. He had to be on his best behavior when he was with family, apparently.

Alexander stared with amusement.

“You cuss at your Pakhan?” a deep voice next to him jostled him.

He glanced at Vlad’s curious eyes.

“Gabriele’s never given me the finger.”

Miran smirked as if the answer was not obvious enough.

“Alexander is not my Pakhan. I don’t follow any leader.”

Because you’re the true leader yourself, his inner voice came.

He shoved that thought in the back of his head.

Miran returned his gaze to Alexei. “You can get Zander,” he raised his eyebrows at Alexander, “married instead. He’s planning on stealing my wife anyway.”

Alexei protested, “But you never even met her even once. You have refused every time.” Then he grinned wickedly. “Lada is here today.”