In the Beginning (Volkov Bratva #1)(33)

Lauren smiled wide. “Are you and Rob going?”

Amber sucked her teeth, waving her hand. “Of course not, but since you are, I can live vicariously through you.”

“Do you have any tips?”

Piper appeared with two pair of shoes, the first nude, the other the same color as the dress, both with heels that made Lauren’s feet hurt just looking at them.

“They’re like any other party, just better clothes and better food.”

“Have you ever been to one, Piper?” Lauren asked trying on the first pair.

“Not since last year when was with David.”

Lauren looked to Amber. “David?”

“He was a trust fund baby. They dated for like two months.”

Piper sighed, studying her manicure. “Until I caught him in bed with someone else.”

Lauren winced. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it wasn’t because he cheated that she broke it off with him,” Amber said. “It was because he was secretly gay.”

“He could have at least waited until I was out of the city before shacking up with that whore.”

Amber and Piper bantered back and forth between trying on shoes, and after another half hour, they were ready to check out, Lauren having chose the silver pair.

The line was relatively short, the wait going by faster than expected. When they reached the front, Lauren set her shoes on the counter, pointing out the dress that was hers. The cashier—her name tag reading Tasha—retrieved the dress, then looked at Lauren appreciatively as she rang her up.

“Was that your boyfriend?” She asked sounding positively giddy.

“Uh, yea.”

“I totally know his sister. Doesn’t he own that club over on Fifth?”

Lauren never got to answer any of the girl’s questions, she just kept talking, gushing about her friendship with Alex and how hot Mishca was. By the time she took a breath, there was a line of people behind Lauren.

“How much is the dress?” Lauren asked as nicely as she could, ignoring Amber’s snickering beside her.

“Oh, it’s already been taken care of.” She handed her the garment bag.

Mishca. He never ceased to amaze her. “Well, thanks.”

“Can you get me in?” Tasha called after them as they were leaving.





Chapter Eleven:


Vory v Zakone


Located on the corner of Fifth Avenue and 55th Street was the Peninsula New York, a premiere hotel that provided luxury accommodations, along with the privacy the men in the Peninsula Suite required.

Mishca Volkov stepped out of his Mercedes, nodding towards the doorman that hurried to open the door for him. Inside the lobby, a woman dressed in a black pencil skirt and pale pink blouse, greeted him with a smile, holding a tablet in her hands. She had worked there for as long as Mishca had been brought in, and even longer since she worked for his father.

Heather, he thought her name was though he never cared enough to verify.

She was nice enough, but artificial in every sense of the word. He doubted there was anything on her that wasn’t altered or implanted, and despite her attempts at trying to get near Mikhail—and once at Mishca—she was still just another trinket that was passed around. Anya never let any female close enough to Mikhail to do any harm.

“Mr. Volkov,” she greeted him formally though she stuck her chest out to get his attention, “your party is awaiting your arrival.”

Mishca and Vlad took the elevator to the 19th floor and entered the room where the Four Families were meeting.

In the living area, the drapes were drawn back, allowing a view of the bustling street below and the sights of Manhattan. A grand piano of polished black stood in the corner of the room, tying together with the upscale furnishings in the center of the space.

But more than the surroundings, the men—and a single woman—drew attention even though they all sat in silence. It was a rathe large gathering, three members from each family. It might have been less, but since Mishca and Viktor were both in attendance—as well as Mikhail—it was only fair that each family was even and had a fair say.

When Mishca entered, they each stood one by one, greeting him with a handshake and a kiss to either cheek. The practice was a bit outdated, in Mishca’s opinion, but being Mikhail’s son afforded him the respect.

He took up his usual spot, a warm, butter colored leather chair near the piano. It was situated in the corner of the room, not in direct view of the windows, but far enough away from the door. He had been around long enough to know that there were some that coveted power and would not hesitate to take him out.

The Four Families consisted of the Volkovs, the Zolnerowiches, the Pavlovs, and the Kaminskis. They were spread out along the Eastern seaboard, ruling their prospective states though they all answered to Mishca’s father.

Mikhail Volkov was as much a law abiding citizen as he was a career criminal. He owned a chain of successful restaurants in Brighton Beach where he also conducted most of his business. Although as Pakhan—the Boss—he had control over all the designated territories, he normally stuck to Brighton Beach, leaving the other cities to his officers.

He was as charming as he was deadly, with a head full of graying black hair, and hard gray eyes. He might have been nearing sixty, but he had the physique and attitude of a man in his thirties. Whereas Mishca was lean, Mikhail had at least a hundred pounds on him.