Captivated by the deadly mafia boss

Micah

I haven’t had dinner with Lena in three nights. Between her volunteer time at the Staszek house and my working on the expansion of the restaurants, we’ve had no time together. We’ve fallen into a routine of sips of coffee between bites of breakfast as we get ready for our days.

These damn ledgers I’m staring at can wait. I grab my phone to text her that I’ll meet her at home for dinner, but the door to my office bursts open and Roman stomps inside. I put my phone down and prepare myself for whatever storm he wants to bring in with him.

“Here you are. Of course, tucked in the back office of your restaurant instead of doing what I asked of you.” Roman slams the door closed.

“What did you ask of me?” I stand up from my chair and fold my arms over my chest.

“You have invested all of your time into the restaurants. Into your dance clubs. Not one minute have you spent on the Ivanov businesses!” He points a shaky finger at me.

“The Ivanov businesses include my restaurants and my clubs. I’m not doing anything you didn’t already know about. I told you I don’t think expanding the stables is a good idea. We need more legitimate businesses, so the other avenues of our revenue are easier to filter.” This conversation is so damn old cobwebs grow from it.

“Nothing I didn’t know about?” His lips curl inward as he asks. “Demetria? You told me about her, did you?”

I leave emotion from my expression. It’s one of the first things you learn growing up in my family. Never expose your true thoughts.

“Demetria was a private situation. It had nothing to do with you or the Ivanov businesses.”

The information was also kept closely guarded. Two people other than me knew about Demetria. Finding her and extracting her had been Niko’s doing, his secret self-imposed mission since the death of my brother. He wouldn’t ruin all of that by telling Roman.

“Ah.” He nods, but it’s a farce. This calmness he’s trying to portray is just the buildup until he unleashes his fury. “So, going behind my back to collect a woman who ruined your brother has nothing to do with me. Nothing to do with our family?”

“She didn’t ruin Igor. He had opinions. You just didn’t agree with them.” I hold my ground. This man before me, seething and ready to throw a toddler-worthy tantrum is not the fire-breathing father I grew up with. He’s laced with self-doubt and riddled with paranoia.

“Igor never would have even thought of going against me without her in his ear.”

“He wasn’t against you. Neither am I. He didn’t want you doubling down on the stables. But it doesn’t really matter now, though, does it? Igor’s not here.” I slam my fist into my desk. “He’s not here. I am. I am your son, the one you keep touting as your heir. The one you say you want to take over the business when you retire, but you refuse to listen to anything I say.”

“Because you want to take our family out of the business I’ve grown. The businesses that have proven profitable and can bring us even more money, more power. We are within grasp of having more control of this city and with that we can do whatever we want.”

“The business streams that make a profit and keep the costs and risks low aren’t being questioned. But your obsession with the fucking stable. For what? So you can get your cock sucked off at your whim?”

His jaw snaps shut, and irate red covers his face, but I’m not done yet.

“It’s not profitable. Not anymore. And if you double down on it, it will cost us money. Let the other families chase their money with the girls. We have solid lines that make us twice as much, and the legit businesses not only increase our profits, but give us a shield.” I march around my desk. No more hiding behind the shade of my brother. No more tiptoeing around my father’s bullshit. If I’m to lead this family, I can’t allow his temper tantrums to sway my actions. “You do what you want with the stable, but I won’t work on it anymore. And my men won’t either.” He has his own guys, but he’s counted on my crews do some of his dirty work. He’ll have to bring up his own ranks now.

“You think to tell me what is going to happen in my family?”

I shake my head. “No. You do what you think is best. I’ll keep running the legitimate business side, and the other streams. You take the stable. Unless you’d like to retire altogether?”

There are men loyal to my father who would gladly cut off my head if given the direction, but I have more. I don’t rule my men with fear, I rule with confidence and leadership. I won’t ask anyone to cross lines here though; this is still the Ivanov family. And Roman will be the head until he chooses otherwise.

“Retire?” He says the word as though someone just shit in his mouth. “Why would I do such a stupid thing?”

“Because you’re obsessed with a business that’s dead. Because you can’t see what’s best for the family anymore, you only see what you want.”

I half expect one of his guys to come through the door and shoot me. Men don’t survive talking to Roman Ivanov the way I am.

He stares at me, the color fading on his cheeks until he’s back in control of his anger. With a deep breath, he straightens his shoulders.

“I had a feeling you’d feel this way, Micah.” The sneer in his voice lessens my confidence that I’m not about to get my ass handed to me.

“I’m only asking you to be logical.”

He pulls out his phone and taps out a text message. After he puts it back in his inside pocket, he turns his twisted grin on me. “Why do you boys make me do things to you that will hurt you?”

Dread runs through my veins. “What the fuck does that mean?” I demand.

He shrugs and heads for the door.Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

“What did you do?” I grab my phone from my desk.

“You’re as compromised as your brother was. I waited too long to get rid of the problem for him, but with you, I’m taking action faster.”

I dial Lena’s phone and press the phone to my ear. She’s at home. She’s safe there.

The phone rings and rings.

When the call goes to voicemail, I look back at the door. My father’s gone.

I dial the phone again.

More ringing.

Voicemail.

Sweat breaks out on my brow. Maybe she’s in the bathroom. Maybe she left her phone in the other room. Maybe she just doesn’t hear it.

No matter what excuse I tell myself, the ice skating down my spine won’t go away.

I’m out the door before the next ring of her phone, and in my car before the voicemail picks up.

If he touched a single hair on her head, I’ll kill him myself.