Sean

Somehow I didn’t expect for the Pakhan to agree to the bargain his sister made but here he is, sitting opposite me, flanked by his sister and his lawyer, as we hash out the terms.

He’s already promised to cut my balls off twice, if I harm a single hair on Irina’s head. She has such a glorious, platinum mane, why would I want to hurt it? Or really, any part of her.

I had a sister once. I know what it is to be protective. The former Pakhan planted a car bomb six years ago, as she and my father were coming home from a gathering in Chicago.

They didn’t make it.

I don’t blame Roman. He wasn’t even in the country at the time. But Irina was. She would have been around seventeen then. She probably didn’t know much about operations but she might. I want to know what happened that day.

That doesn’t mean I mean her any harm.

My lawyer is a shark and he squeezes as much as he can out of this deal.

“The wedding will take place on Saturday. We will arrange everything. Details will be sent to you.” Roman said, getting to his feet. He has a hint of a Russian accent despite the fact that I know his family has been in America for at least two generations.

We know they retain strong ties with their motherland both commercially and socially just like we do. We smuggle our guns from the NRA and they get their drugs, their weapons, their counterfeits from their contacts in Eurasia. I’ve heard tell that Roman not only works with the Bratva but also the Triad and the Yakuza. I heard tell that Yelena Kim Dobreva – their late mother – was not only of Asian descent but had ties to both organized crime families. Something about the Korean war, forbidden romance and other such shenanigans.

Yes, when Vladimir Dobrev killed my family, I had him looked into. Everything I could possibly find out about him.

“I look forward to it.” I say to Roman before bending over Irina’s hand and kissing her knuckles respectfully. “I have something for you, milady.”

She quirked her pretty eyebrow. “Oh? Presents already?”

I couldn’t help but smile. She really was an intriguing woman. “Something like that.”

I reached into my pocket. Roman immediately went for his gun and so, to my surprise, did his lawyer. I held up the square jewelry box I’d extricated from my pocket, making sure they could see clearly as I opened it and extracted the diamond within. “I bought the ring from one of your smugglers, had it shaped and put in a platinum band.” I said, and offered it to Irina. “I had it made six months ago when I decided you would be my bride.”

Her brow rose higher but she took the ring without comment and put it on  her engagement finger. It was a perfect fit.

I clapped my hands in delight. “Kismet!” I declared.

Irina rolled her eyes, Roman relaxed, his shoulders dropping for the first time since he walked into my office. I had finally managed to assure him, I guess, that I meant his sister no ill.

Irina held up her finger, showing off her ring to her brother and their lawyer. Roman snorted, rolling his eyes. He put his hand on the small of her back and propelled her to the door.

“Come on, let’s go.” He said drily.

***

My best friend in the world, and second in command, Simon Tulley, walked into my office later that day, his shirt stained with blood. I quirked an eyebrow. “What happened? Don’t tell me it’s the Russians?”

His mouth twisted. “Not this time. Motorcycle gang, came in the bar. Rowdy, drunk, stupid.”

“And no one else could deal with them but you?” I asked drily.

He gave a half shrug. Simon was a brawler. He liked to scrap. “Heard ye did the deal. We gettin’ married eh?”

“Saturday.”

“Whew! Alrigh’. Come on, I’ll buy ye a beer and we can toast to the end of yer freedom.”

I laughed as I let him lead me out the door. Marriage had never been high on my list of things to do, but if pressed, I’d have to admit that I was kind of looking forward to being a husband.

“Ye ken she’s going ta be spyin’ on us, don’t ye?” Simon asked.

I laughed. “I’d be disappointed if she didn’t try.”