Boris Pavlikovsky Novels & Stories

Creed retorted. Boris, not affected, just looked at his nails, “Yeah, and I am happy to be single. Now go back there.” What I like about Boris is he has no filter and just says whatever he needs to be. He’s not even threatened by his cousin being the past ”Ravager” who could kill him in seconds if he wanted to. A perfect match for a not-so-talkative type like Creed. He just brings out the childishness in Creed that I didn’t know he had. “I am proud you managed to pull this off,” I interjected between their banter.

I can’t think about anything else. Boris sighs in defeat, then downs the rest of his drink. “Fine. Let’s get right down to business. The reason why I wanted to speak to you was because I’ve been observing some…strange behavior from someone in Igor’s family. Or should I say your family?” “Who?” “Leo Makárov.” I gulp. “What kind of behavior?” “He’s been hanging around that woman, Igor’s ex. Well, hanging around isn’t the right term. They’re together. They have been for a while now.”

Two men stood next to Victor, and their presence sent a spurt of frozen adrenaline through his system. To his right, there sat Dmitri Volkov, the notorious "Tsar of Siberian Gas." The granite-jawed mogul with a track record for crushing competitors with the tacit support of the Kremlin. He was oligarchy personified—Politically unstoppable, pitiless, and wallowing in mineral wealth.

If there was a man, America needed to be afraid of, it was Boris but some of the worlds most dangerous criminals never appear to be criminals and such was Boris Egorov. He was not tall but broad shouldered, with unusually wide forehead and dark hair that were always combed backwards and were always shining with gel. His face was that of a strong man with a chin that protruded outwards. Women always wanted to take a second look, for underneath the suit, he seemed like the man who had lifted weights. His stockiness had a masculine sex appeal to it which women noticed. If you stood close to him, you would smell a manly fragrance that was a mixture of perfume and cigar and it went quite well wit

“‘Classic Cocktails.’ Aperol Spritz—refreshing drink with a light citrus bitterness, 220 milliliters, 170 hryvnias.” “But… how?” he stared, baffled. “I have a very strong photographic memory. You read that I finished my studies externally, right?” “Yes, but I thought you were just a bookworm…” “No, there was no point sitting and listening to material I could absorb way faster than everyone else. And also— I, Victoria Aleksandrovna Lemeshko, am a certified biochemist, senior technologist, and specialist at Nikolai Koshev’s company. Nice to meet you.”

“Leonid Antonov. Built a billion-dollar tech empire focused on data surveillance, facial recognition, and internet control. Has close relationships with FSB leadership. He ruins reputations or erases people from digital existence.” “Nikolai Sidorov. Owns several national TV stations, newspapers, and digital platforms. Crafts public narratives and suppresses dissent.” “Boris Vlasenko. An ex-enforcer turned strategic consigliere. Boris is a grey cardinal who oversees dealings between Bratva factions. Knows where all the bodies are from the previous regime.” “Roman Melnikov.Controls massive infrastructure projects, including bridges, highways, and state-funded housing. He has built half of mode

a deep, smooth voice called out, drawing my attention. I turned to see Viktor Volkov, an associate from the Bratva in Russia, standing beside us with a glass of whiskey in hand. He was a tall, well-groomed man with sharp blue eyesand a reputation for being both charming and dangerous—a combination I wasn’t particularly fond of at the moment. “Volkov,” I greeted curtly, keeping my arm around Giselle’s waist. I didn’t care that I was acting extra possessive of her tonight as long as it kept the other men away from her.

he said sincerely and I nodded. "Viktor is an honorable man then," I asked again because if he hesitated, I'd break into Viktor's room and drag my son away, no matter what the two were doing. Vlad nodded and said that Viktor was a Slovakian tsar from the fifteenth century and his last name is Pokrvný and it's associated with blood in his home country. "I'm certain your father Mikhail knew him and if I recall they grew up together in Russia," he added and I shrugged not caring about anything to do with my late father.

Nikolai's POV "The state of the Northern pack is in disarray. There has been a disorganized rearrangement of their distribution system..." I scribbled onto the paper, taking mental notes alongside. The pack's state had gone down, due to the recent increase in border rivalries. I needed to see to that. "There are measures we can take to reduce the number of inter-pack disputes... I've written them down." "Great job! You did well, Alan! Have Marcus see me as regarding that." He beamed at my praises. He was my newly appointed secretary.

“ I asked what you are doing here Brianna! “ Nikolai boomed at me making me recoil. He had never spoken to me in that manner. I tried to understand since he was stressed because of the Russians. “ I-“ I didn’t get to finish my statement because he pulled me away from the scene in front of me and dragged me out of the basement. His grip was tight but not tight enough to hurt me. Even in anger, he still found a way to be gentle with me. “ What has Viktor done? “ I asked when we stopped in the hallway. He gave me a sinister smile and inched closer to me so that our chests were almost touching. “ If you’re here to defend a man before me then you better leave, “ he replied, the smirk never leavin