Chapter Twenty-One
Thefamilywasgathered around the table, eating. Only a few of them looked up as we entered. Ilya and I found spots to sit next to each other, and Bron stood by the door.
“Sit, Bronislav.” Vas gestured to an empty chair.
Bron looked astounded.
“There is plenty of food, and there is family business to discuss. You might as well sit.”
Shoulders stiff, Bron lowered himself into the chair to my right.
Servers brought trays for us to select food from. There were things I didn’t recognize, but I was adventurous enough that I took some of everything that looked interesting and hoped my eyes weren’t bigger than my stomach.
As we were finishing up, Vas got to his feet.
“I know most of you have been wondering why I called you to the house. Of course, Ilya’s wedding was a decent excuse, but as most of you no doubt suspect, there is more than that.” He lifted his glass to his lips. I doubted the clear liquid was water.
When everyone fell silent, he gestured for the servers to leave the room. I could tell Bron wasn’t sure if he should go, but Vas stepped behind him and briefly put a hand on his shoulder before moving on to refill his glass from the sideboard.
“I plan to retire.”
His sons turned their gazes to him in shock.
“I’ve worked long enough, and I’m ready to choose a successor. Although I won’t step aside for another few years, whoever takes over will need time to learn his role before I move somewhere warm with my new wife, whoever she may be.”
He toasted the unknown woman, then chuckled and slapped one of the twins on the back. I still didn’t know Oleg from Dmitry.
I would have expected Alexander to be the center of attention, but no one was looking his way. In fact, Alexander looked puzzled at the news.
“I know some of you have no interest in running things.” He gestured to Alexander. “Others have qualities that make them unsuitable.” He didn’t center out anyone, but Yuri and Andrey looked away.
Oh god, Ilya wasn’t in the running for this, was he?
What if he was? None of the other sons had been centered out for toughening up. Vas had no idea that Ilya’s new attitude was all a sham, and I doubted Bron would betray him to his father. I didn’t want to live here—especially not if Vas was running some sort of criminal empire. If he planned to choose Ilya and train him for the position, I was absolutely going back to my family.
That was if Vas would allow it. I had no idea whether this family would tolerate a woman divorcing them and leaving. Bron had said divorces were no big deal, but Bron wasn’t Vas.
My new father-in-law put his hand on the back of Ilya’s chair and moved to stand behind him.
Oh no.
”As you know, my role comes with a certain amount of risk. It was my hope one of my elder sons would prove they could deal with those uncertainties.” He gave a few of them a hard look. “I waited. I even banished my most promising son to a remote island in the hope one of you would spare me the embarrassment of needing to choose him.”
Most of Ilya’s brothers kept their expressions neutral and their gazes fixed on Vas, but a few of them looked at Ilya, disgruntled.
Ilya wasn’t the least favorite? Why would Vas be so brutal with the son he’d felt was the most promising? He’d been left there and made to work hard for over a decade, all to give his older brothers a chance to prove they were the better choice?
“Unfortunately, all you have shown me is that you like your allowances to be on time, and that you have good taste in women.” His large hands tightened on the back of Ilya’s chair.
I wanted to shout at Vas not to be ridiculous—that Ilya was the most soft-hearted of his sons and that he was only pretending to be hard, but I held my peace.
Had this been Ilya’s goal all along? It made sense, but it didn’t mean I was happy about it. Sure, he was tougher than he’d been when I first met him, but there was still a soft soul under the hard exterior he was presenting here. I doubted he would be happy as a mob boss, or whatever the hell Vas did for a living.
I braced myself for the words I knew were coming.
“That is why, beginning tomorrow, I will train Bronislav as my successor.”
I opened my mouth to correct him. What a time to say the wrong name! But then Vas slapped Bron on the shoulder and gave it a squeeze.
Bron glanced up at Vas, his expression blank.
What the fuck?
My mind scrambled to catch up.
If he was Vas’s son…
Ilya staggered to his feet and strode out of the room.
I felt rooted to my chair.
God… They were brothers?
How could Bron be cruel enough to make his little brother fall in love with him?
I thought of Ilya’s poetry journals and the quiet, desperate love he’d harbored for Bron for so long, and how he’d finally gotten everything he wanted.
Had it all been a sick game?