Gilded Tears: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 2) Nicole Fox (no david read aloud TXT) 📖

I walk into a large living room setup, where yet another bunch of men are milling around.

The hierarchy is obvious. The underbosses are reclined on the couches, drinking whiskey and smoking cigars.

The men hovering around the periphery of the room are soldiers, runners, grunts.

But every single one of them turns to look at me when I enter.

“Is Kaminski in?” I ask.

No one answers for a moment.

“Are you all fucking deaf? I asked if Kaminski is in.”

Finally, someone speaks up. My gaze swivels over to track the speaker.

It’s one of the smug idiots on the couch. He’s tall, broad, muscular, with a distinct and massive tattoo of an eagle sprawling across the front of his throat. Apart from that, his features are forgettable.

“Who’s asking?” he says.

“Artem Kovalyov.”

I hear someone swear to the side, but I don’t even glance in his direction.

“Send a message up,” Eagle Tattoo snaps at an aide.

I stand there silently and wait. The atmosphere is tense at best, but I keep my expression calm, unbothered.

I don’t have to fake that. I am calm. I am unbothered.

I’m in my element.

Then I hear footsteps. A few seconds later, three men stomp down the stairs into the middle of the space.

The last one I recognize immediately as the Polish mafia don, Kaminski. I’ve seen him in passing before when I was a boy.

He hasn’t changed much. Maybe a few kilos heavier and a few more grays in his hair and beard.

“Kurwa!” he exclaims in Polish as his eyes settle on me with disbelief. “It is you.”

“Surprise,” I chuckle, raising my hands with a smile.

“You must have some kind of death wish coming back to this city.”

I shrug. “I have a slightly different perspective.”

“Which is what?” Kaminski asks, taking a few steps forward as his underlings converge around him.

“This is my home,” I reply. “And I’m taking it back.”

Kaminski smiles, his eyes taking stock of the men behind me. Then he turns to his.

“Out,” he orders. “All of you.”

Of course, he doesn’t actually mean all his men. A few of his underbosses stay behind, including the guy with the eagle tattoo.

I count quickly and silently as the room empties. In the end, there’s fifteen of them and twelve of us.

I don’t want it to come down to bloodshed. But if that becomes necessary, I like our odds.

Kaminski plops down on a couch and gestures for me to sit as well. I move forward and take the sofa directly opposite him.

My men spread slightly to occupy more of the room, but none of them sit. I can feel them at my back, scanning the area, staying vigilant.

“My sources tell me you haven’t picked a side yet,” I begin cautiously.

He grunts, “Didn’t see the point of getting involved in a fight that’s not mine.”

“Fair,” I agree. “But I’m guessing you want to cash in where you can.”

He smiles, showing yellowed teeth. “For that, all I need to do is present your uncle with your head,” he says. “Budimir put out a standing contract on your life. Of course, that was before he announced that you were dead. Which means your head is probably worth a lot more now.”

“Probably,” I say. “But Budimir will just give you money. Maybe after that, he’ll throw you a bone every now and again. I can do more for you. Far more.”

“If I ally with you, of course,” Kaminski amends.

“Of course. So the only question now is… are you interested?”

“That depends,” Kaminski muses. “On your offer.”

So far, this has gone exactly as expected. I reach into a pocket and pull out the list of concessions that Adrik and I hashed out last night. Territories, shares of various trades and businesses, some rights of passage through Bratva-controlled parts of the city.

It’s a lot. More than I would’ve wanted to give up.

But as much as I hate it, we need Kaminski’s cooperation.

He scans the handwritten list. I watch his face for signs of approval or distaste, but he gives nothing away.

“Well?” I ask when he sighs and leans back.

“Those are generous terms,” Kaminski says.

“It’s a one-time offer. Expires very soon.”

“And if I say no?” he asks.

I glance around at the rest of the silent men in the room. “We’ll leave.”

He smiles again, baring those sharp, yellow teeth. “And you think I’ll just let you walk out of here…?”

“Perhaps not,” I acknowledge. “I hope you will, though. For your sake.”

Kaminski raises his eyebrows. “For my sake?”

I nod. “You don’t want to sacrifice your men unnecessarily, do you?” I ask.

He frowns and makes a big show of counting out how many Bratva soldiers have come with me. “Jeden, dwa, trzy… jedena´scie, dwana´scie. Twelve. Twelve men. You really think you can take on all of us with only twelve men?” he guffaws.

He’s playing like he’s unconcerned, but this man is don for a reason. I know that beneath the bravado, he’s assessing the situation. Trying to figure out if I’m just naïve or if I know something he doesn’t.

“I know I can,” I answer smoothly. “But I brought in reinforcements, just in case.”

Kaminski’s laughter dies instantly. “Pierdoli´c,” he growls. “You’re talking bullshit.”

“Did you really think I would risk coming here with only a dozen men?” I ask conversationally.

“Liar.”

I shrug. “It’s your risk to take.”

I see a muscle in his jaw twitch, but otherwise he stays calm and unflustered. Finally, he leans forward.

Behind him, I see his men tense. They’re waiting for his answer as much as we were.

“I like your style,” he tells me. “If I had to bet on a Kovalyov man, it’ll be you.”

He extends his hand out to me.

I clasp it with mine.

“You have yourself a deal.”

I nod and get to my feet. “I’ll be in touch.”

Then I turn and walk out of there with my men close behind. Adrik falls into step beside me as we go back out through the courtyard and the gates.

He doesn’t say a word until we’re back in the car. “If he had ordered his men to attack, we