Lights shone down from the ballroom’s chandeliers. Diamonds sparkled from the bride as she danced with her new husband. The jewelry. Her dress. Adornments in her hair. She spun and smiled up at her spouse, and he couldn’t have looked prouder to have this woman on his arm.
Elegance was the theme of this party celebrating the Russian families coming together here in this packed venue. No expense was spared. All of the finest was on display, from the gowns, the crystal glasses we just raised for a toast, and the gourmet meal that had been catered to the hundreds of guests.
“You see one wedding,” I muttered softly to my father, Grigory, seated to my left, “and you’ve seen them all.”
My younger brother, Damon, yawned from the chair to my left and I smirked.
Amen to that, Brother. This is boring as fuck.
While my father chuckled, his mother disagreed with my wise-ass remark. “The Smirnoffs did a wonderful job with this wedding.”
Saul, my youngest brother, lowered his wine long enough to raise his brows at her. “It’s not like they did anything. They just hire a planner for shit like this.”
Anastasia Ivanov would never tolerate any of her four sons disagreeing. She lifted her chin and didn’t bat an eyelid at his comment, which was probably entirely accurate.
While the Smirnoffs weren’t an influential family like mine was, they mattered in our circle of acquaintances. More than that, they were secure under the Ivanov Syndicate’s protection. Of all the guests here at the wedding for the bride and groom, whose names I had already forgotten, if I’d ever known them at all, our table was the most important. We were guests of honor, the six of us coming to represent the might of our crime family. Even though my father was the boss, the Pakhan of our Bratva, my three brothers and I were princes and bosses with hefty power. Despite being a woman, my grandmother’s influence remained the same—sought-after and envied.
The emcee announced for other couples to join the newlyweds, and my father groaned. Widowed so long ago when my mother turned traitor and got herself killed, he wasn’t one half of a couple. I never could blame him for refraining from marrying again. He had his sons. All four of us brothers were heirs, next in line to wield our family’s power. He vowed to never trust another woman again. With him, he didn’t only talk the talk. He walked the walk and remained happily single and widowed, lacking all interest in letting any woman get attached to him for more than a quick fuck.
“How much fucking longer do we have to stay?” Damon asked. He had to be itching to get that tux off him. As the biggest of us, most muscled and used to honing his body to make it a killing machine as our deadliest enforcer, he looked out of his comfort zone dressed up this much.
He winced at the crowded dance floor filling up with couples and guests who weren’t annoyed to be here. As his face flexed with the wince, the scar above his eyebrow stayed stiff.
“We haven’t congratulated the couple,” my grandmother protested.
“I don’t even know their goddamn names,” my father groused.
I smiled, amused that my father and I shared sentiments about this stupid wedding. I understood that we had to be present for the sake of showing our loyalty to less-influential families in our organization. But hadn’t this gone on long enough?
Reaching back for my glass, I found it empty and sighed. Alcohol would help numb the boredom, wouldn’t it? I hadn’t drunk quite enough to find this evening bearable yet.
“I’ve got shit to do,” Damon complained as he rubbed his hand over his face.
“You mean more assholes to question in the dungeon?” Saul quipped.
Nikolai scowled and looked around the room. He and Damon were twins, in between me and Saul, but they couldn’t have been any more different. Where Damon was huge and scary, Nik could almost seem charming and laidback. But since he was our best spy, too stealthy to ever be caught by our enemies, I knew better than to assume he was merely looking for a way out of here.
He was looking for someone.
“You’ll get back to them soon enough,” our father told Damon. His smile was a proud one, full of appreciation for his second-born to be this lethal of a punisher for the men we captured. “And there’ll be more before you know it.”
Our father wasn’t boasting for the hell of it. He spoke the truth. With the uptick of attacks on our businesses and the sabotage in our operations, it was clear that a trend of unrest was keeping us on our toes more often than not.
I didn’t understand why, yet, but that was how life was in the world of syndicated crime. Violence and death were variables we could count on to be constant, but lately, it’d been nonstop. Sooner or later, we’d find the main source of all the recent chaos.
“It wouldn’t hurt for you to consider all the guests here,” my grandmother chided, glancing directly at me as I took another flute of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray.
I rolled my eyes, knowing precisely what she meant.
“It should be you out there showing off your new bride.”
Shaking my head, I sought a reserve of patience to shut that down. “No, Grandmother,” I drawled. “It should not.”
“You have to marry sooner or later and—”
“Ah, let him be, Mother.” My father waved at her, also mildly annoyed, cringing as he dismissed her. His experiences with settling down with a bride hadn’t ended well, and I was glad I could have him on my side in this matter. He wouldn’t care about my procrastinating.
“I am in no mood to settle down,” I reminded her, something I’d told her several times lately.
“You’re nearly forty already,” she protested. “And…” She went quiet as Nik got up and left the table. Giving up on frowning at him and how he’d stepped away without a word, she sighed heavily. “You’re almost forty, Maxim. You need to find a woman and—”
“No,” I repeated. Being the eldest brother wasn’t a curse, except in regard to this. I would have to be the first to get a wife and knock her up. And I dreaded the time when I’d have to fulfill that obligation.
Sure, I knew it was coming, but I doubted I’d ever fully trust a woman, not one who’d stay in my life for good. Fucking random whores was fine. Anything that resembled more commitment than that was a hard pass.
“Maxim, stop this.” She shook her head before people-watching instead of narrowing her eyes at me. “You can’t assume every woman will end up like your mother did. Beatrice isn’t a representation of every woman out there.”
I shrugged, sipping my drink and wishing I could replace the champagne with vodka. Something stronger to dull this fucking boredom that wouldn’t let go of me. It didn’t matter what she said. I was fine assuming every one of these women were cut from the same manipulative, traitorous fabric.
“There are so many here, all these daughters and nieces of so many fine families.” She lifted her hand to gesture at the expanse of the ballroom. “You could have your pick of the finest. Would it be so terrible to get up from this table and quit this sulking? Just go and speak with someone. Meet a few of the princesses and—”
“No,” I repeated, firmer and without much patience. I loved my grandmother. My family meant everything to me. While I would have to do my duty and get a wife and an heir someday, I didn’t see any reason to focus on it tonight.
“Why not?” she demanded, sassy and able to get away with it. “Look. Just open your eyes and look.”
“I can barely keep my eyes open,” Damon joked wryly. “I’m about to fall asleep.”
I chuckled, smiling at him. This would be a drag for him. A deadly enforcer more used to power and spilling blood than acting like a polished prince would never fit in here.
“Oh, hush, you.” Our grandmother furrowed her brow at him. “You’ll be even harder to work on.”
Damon almost smiled, cracking the kinks out of his neck and sighing like he was put out to be present at all.
“I don’t know,” Saul said as he lifted his wineglass and pointed with a finger lifted off it. “Richard’s daughter is looking more… mature now.”
I spared the nineteen-year-old a glance and rolled my eyes. I did like them young, but not infantile. Shooting my brother a look to shut up, he grinned and obeyed under the rules of reverse psychology.
“Oh, there’s the Evanovich daughters.” He pointed out a couple more Mafia princesses.
I growled and shook my head. “Cut it out.”
“No, he’s right,” Grandmother insisted, smiling as she, too, looked at the regal women in attendance. “The least you could do is look.”
“I am looking,” I lied. I saw all the Mafia women here, but I wasn’t considering any of them. I wouldn’t let my grandmother get her hopes up high that I was on the hunt for a wife. Not yet.
Even if I weren’t so jaded and against the idea of committing to a woman, I wasn’t interested in the women in our circle. They were all the same, all full of themselves and out to secure whatever power and wealth they could. Each and every one of them had just as much of a chance to end up like my mother, and I refused to let anyone hurt my family again.
“And?” she asked, smiling with hope blossoming in her blue eyes.
“And they’re just as annoying as the next,” I replied, deadpan.
She huffed and shook her head.
“Let him be,” my father said. “It’s not like there is any rush.” He arched one brow at her, and she frowned and crossed her arms.
“He doesn’t even try, though. It’s not a bad idea to keep some options open for consideration,” she replied.
“I highly doubt that he’ll struggle to find a woman willing to be his wife,” my father argued dryly. “Even the dumbest of those whores would want to be chosen by an Ivanov boss.”
And whoever I choose will only be in it for the money and power. Nothing more.
“It’ll be a business transaction,” I quipped flippantly.
“Oh.” She perked up, even sarcastically, at that. “You mean you’re ready for us to arrange a marriage for you?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Hell no.”
She sighed again. “Then at least talk to a woman. Consider the options.”
“I am considering options. The option to stay single for as long as I can.” I smiled wolfishly at her.
“Oh…” She scowled. “None of you even try—”
“Hey now.” Saul feigned a hurt expression. “I take my time to cultivate my fan club.”
I chuckled again. So did Damon. “Yes. By the time you’ll be expected to settle down, the rest of us would’ve already accomplished having heirs.”
He grinned. “And look at Nik.” He gestured at where our brother spoke with a woman near the bar. From this distance, it was hard to tell whether they were arguing or attempting small talk. My bet was on the former. Those two had been bickering since we were kids.
“Again?” I mused aloud.
Father looked in the direction of Katerina Kozlov as she seemed to make a snide reply to Nik. “They’ve always been like that.”
I nodded, drinking some more. They had. But back when Nik and Katerina were children—not yet expected to behave like adults within the Mafia—Father and Thomas Kozlov were friends. Since Thomas’s death, though, the Ivanov and Kozlov friendship had gotten rockier over the years.
Maybe he’s just spying, getting her to talk to learn what the Kozlovs are up to now.
On one hand, it was ridiculous to think of the Kozlovs trying to stir up trouble with us, but I couldn’t shake the idea that someone was doing just that.
Cringing and loosening my tie, I hated the feeling that this could very well be the calm before the storm. Something was happening. Perhaps a takeover was being plotted. Wars sprang up over less.
And Grandmother wants me to focus on settling down. Not staying alert for the enemy. I held in a huff of laughter at the stupidity of it all. We would always have enemies. As the most powerful Mafia organization in New York City, we could count on plenty of adversaries wanting to claim our power, our wealth, and our turf.
“You’re not getting any younger,” my grandmother reminded me, almost pouting. She glanced at Damon and Saul as well. “None of you are.”
“Relax, Mother,” my father repeated after meeting my gaze. “They’ll have plenty of time to find a woman and breed her.” He shrugged, showing how little he’d care about the process.
Now that she’d reminded me about her eagerness for me to start looking for a woman, I was the opposite of relaxed.
I ignored the stares of the group of Mafia daughters who strolled by. They could look and ogle all they wanted, but I wouldn’t be tempted.
Instead, I glanced at my watch, wondering how much longer I’d need to be seen here before I could get the hell away from this grand production of a wedding.
Whenever I had to take a wife, it wouldn’t be like this. I finished my drink and knew no one would talk me out of that. I’d find a fertile woman and knock her up as soon as possible so I could resume the life I enjoyed as a Mafia boss.
An independent one.
A free one.
Without a single woman to try to tell me what to do—ever.
