Page 67 of Taken By My Grumpy Pakhan

“Apprehension is reasonable,” Nico replied before sliding his eyes to Vasily. “What is not reasonable is resorting to cheap theatrics to communicate your emotions.”

“Is he dead?” The man asked.

“Decapitated and burnt.” Lev, my right-hand man and brigadir, answered.

“And his son?”

“He would not be bothering us.”

“So we still have a loose end,” the man concluded.

“With the way his father was cut down, it would be very foolish of him to rear his head.”

“Or it could be his motive for revenge,” Vasily spoke in a softer tone.

“Or we could focus on the task at hand and deal with his son if and when he decides to show his face,” Svet said again, frustration evident on her face.

In her father’s absence, the inherent flaw in the family was even more pronounced. I could see both why they were my family's most formidable enemies and why they were not capable of taking the throne for themselves because of the same trait. Impatience.

They had a bloodthirst that clouded judgement, greed that surpassed reasoning and a fundamental need to attack and think later.

In the Bratva, you needed to be as skilled, technical and wise as you were strong.

The smart ones knew to outsource decision making when they noted a flaw, and prideful ones like Svet’s father tried to convince themselves they were formidable till the only thing standing between them and a blade was pressure.

I could understand why it drives her nuts to maintain the peace and why she only trusts herself to make negotiations and vital decisions.

Regardless, I loved to watch her struggle.

“When the attack happened, I went to see the Pakhan immediately,” she continued. “And when I told him we were not aware of it,” her eyes softened as they got to me. “He believed without hesitation. So if he says it’s been taken care of, then that’s it. Can we move on to the next thing?”

“Not too quickly, darling,” I finally spoke, causing all eyes to snap to me.

I barely spoke at these things. Five minutes into anything and I knew where I stood and what I intended to do. The rest were usually semantics, but there were things I never looked past.

“Vasily.” My eyes settled on the bulky man across the table. “I believe we all know to insult the Sovetnik is to undermine and insult the authority of the Pakhan. And I don’t take kindly to people undermining mine.” My voice hardened. “Apologize.”

The room fell into a silence that stretched on a delicate tension.

Vasily’s face reddened, his nostrils flaring while his chest rose and fell in heavy puffs of air.

Svet leaned back, watching her brother with interest while the hands of the men disappeared under the table.

The silence was a ticking bomb hanging on the delicate decisions of the firstborn son of the other family.

Another five seconds passed before Vasily withdrew his gaze from mine and finally looked in Nico’s direction.

“Sovetnik.” He nodded.

I could hear the relief in Svet’s relaxed shoulders as the tension in the room slowly dissolved.

I was a bit disappointed, though. I expected a little fight from the human terminator, but I guess this wasn’t my lucky day.

Nico didn’t bother responding as the meeting drifted to other topics which involved onboarding, purchasing, contract reviews and staying out of each other's way, while I struggled between paying attention to numbers being mentioned and the woman on my screen.

She had stopped pacing around the jet and was currently curled up on the couch. There was a bowl of fruit and a glass of champagne next to her as she focused on whatever was displayed on her laptop screen.

When her eyes softened a little and the corners of her lips curved, I switched to another camera, trying to catch a glimpse of her screen and failed.