5— He dosen’t scare me.
Adrian
I have no idea how I fell asleep, but I did it. I wake up the next morning, with someone pounding on my door loudly. And who the fuck is that bastard? I think to myself, a groan escaping my lips as I slowly get out of bed.
I'm still wearing my clothes from yesterday and seriously, I need a change of clothes.
"Who's it?" I ask groggily, opening the door to reveal the face of a man.
Huge, tall. Jet black hair with black eyes. He has that terrifying look that scares people. Too bad, he doesn't scare me.
"Who?"
"Follow me." He utters instead and immediately turns to leave.
What the hell? Just that?
My brows furrow and I reluctantly begin to follow behind him.
"If you want to work here. You have to be punctual. No one sleeps till eight." He points out, walking towards the direction of Nikolai's study.
"Where did the boss pick you from?" He pauses, turning to face me.
"Why don't you ask him that yourself?" I challenge, I hate his humor. Who does he even think he is?
"Look Adrian," he begins, stepping close to stand in front of me. He's way taller than me and may be slightly taller than Nikolai.
"If we're going to be working together, I'll make this clear. I don't like you." He says straight to my face and I remain unblinking. I don't like him either.
"I wonder why Nikolai brought you here." He tsks, turning to walk away.
Who in the world wakes someone up in the morning, only to tell him that he does not like him?
I don't even know who the man is.
We arrive at Nikolai's door, he knocks briefly, before opening the door to walk in.
"He's here, boss." He announces and my eye lands on Nikolai whose eyes are buried in his ipad.
"You can go, Ilya." Ilya, he's the Ilya.
"Boss, are you sure about this?" Ilya asks, his eyes landing on me. I do not need to be told that he's referring to me.
"Yes." Nikolai replies, dropping his ipad on the table.
"You can go." He dismisses Ilya who gives me one hard look before walking out of the study.
"Morning pretty boy. Weren't you taught to greet your elders?" He asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he stands up to his feet.
"Good morning, Boss." I greet, clearing my throat.
Patience. It's only for a short while. I mentally tell myself.
What's the magic number that makes him greeting-worthy? I can't help but think to myself.
"Good." He smiles as he begins to walk up to me.
He stops in front of me, his eyes towering above me and he stares at me for the longest of time.
"You know–" He begins, but he's interrupted when the door suddenly opens as Ilya walks in. He's not alone. A woman is with him. She's aged, probably in her sixties.
"I'm sorry boss, she insisted on coming in." Ilya apologizes the moment they walk in and the woman shoots a glare at him.
"Hush Ilya." She then turns to face Nikolai and her face breaks into a wide smile.
"Koyla!" she calls, stretching her hands to hug him. Surprisingly Nikolai hugs her back before she pulls away.
"You've grown so much Koyla!" she exclaims, her eyes filled with astonishment.
"Don't flatter me, Olga. I've only been away for six months." He says in his defense.
"And you never bothered to call us. Not Nice Koyla." she mumbles, playfully hitting his arm.
My brows squeeze as I stare between them. She does not look like his mother. She's probably too old to be his mother and they bear no form of resemblance to each other.
"Who's he koyla?" She asks, finally acknowledging my presence.
"My new guard Adrian." Nikolai replied as the old lady Olga fixes her eyes on me before saying.
"You don't just employ new guards and where did you pick this one from? He doesn't seem to be Russian. He looks suspicious." she doesn't hide her distaste towards me. Great. Just Great.
"Hello, I'm here." I smile, waving at her.
"And I'm Russian." I add, I know I look more American and sound like one. I was raised there for over 10 years before I returned to Russia. The Russian's here have a heavy accent while speaking English.
While my mother was Russian, my father was American. I moved to America when I was ten after my mother's death. Then lived there for another ten years. I came back to Russia when I was twenty. I've been living in Russia for six years now.
"How have you been? Olga? You look thinner. Have you been eating well?" Nikolai asks instead.
"I'm supposed to be asking you that. You and Ilya look so thin. And I can't believe you did not come to see me after coming back." She frowns and I wonder where Nikolai had been.
"I arrived late at night. I wanted to come see you first thing this morning. Seems like you already beat me to it." Nikolai chuckles, wrapping his arm around Olga's shoulder.
"Come on Kolya. I made you breakfast." She beams, looking so happy to see Nikolai of course.
"I have a meeting, Olga. I'm afraid I won't be able to stay for breakfast." Nikolai politely refuses but the look on Olga's face says it all. She's not going to allow him to leave without breakfast.
"Don't turn me down. You too Ilya. You both are having breakfast." She says to Ilya who holds a stoic look on his face. I swear to God, that man is always serious.
"Come on." She practically drags Nikolai out of his study as Ilya and I follow behind them. I follow them downstairs and we stop at the dining table.
Irina is already there and she scowls the moment she sees Nikolai. Seated with her are two other people. My blood boils as my eyes land on the woman. Nikolai's mom. There's no way I'll ever forget those piercing gray eyes of the woman who took everything away from me.
*****
Nikolai
As I walk into the Dining room with Olga, three pairs of eyes stare directly at me. One with anger. I totally understand Irina, she'll come around.
And two with nothing but pure contempt. Those two pairs of eyes belong to my mother and brother. She stands up the moment she sees me, Pavel following suit like the dog he is.
"What are you doing here?" She asks, not hiding the hatred she has for me. I'm already used to it.
Her hair is packed in a tight bun and she's wearing her usually straight red dress which usually has a black belt that matches with her shoe.
"Because this is my house." A smile graces my lips and my eyes land on my little sister.
"How are you, Irina?" I ask.
"As if you care how I am." She mumbles standing up to her feet and she disappears from the dining room, going straight upstairs.
Seriously, Irina and Olga are the only people I care for in this house.
Olga is not my mother but she practically raised me and made me feel motherly love and Irina? She used to be my favorite person while I was growing up. She's still my favorite person. She's only pissed that I never called her in the six months that I was away.
I did not need any distractions, so I did not bother to call. But that did not mean I did not keep an eye on her. I always made sure she was protected. I'm eight years older than her and two years older than Pavel. I'm currently thirty.
Pavel? My brother. The bastard hates me just as much as his mother hates me and I equally hate them too. Sometimes, I don't believe that Zorya is my birth mother. She has shown her hatred for me the moment she pushed me out of her vagina. And I don't care. I stopped caring years ago.
"This is not your house, Nikolai. Go back to where you're coming from. You're not needed." Pavel says with a scowl on his face and I slowly shake my head.
I left after my father's funeral, I didn't move out. I just left because of work. There were lots of things that needed to be put in place.
A lot of things that I need to achieve. I'm not just going to stop as a higher-up in the Bratva, I want to become the Pakhan and I'm going to be just that. I always aim for the top.
"Father willed his properties to me. You should know you're only living here on my mercy." I state the fact. My father was also an asshole, which leaves me quite surprised why he willed his properties to me.
"How dare you?? You insolent bastard." Zorya fumes, raising her hand to slap me. I don't stop her. She hits me in the face and I do not flinch and just stare at her.
"Are you done?" I smile at her.
"I have a meeting with the bratva." I only came to the dining room at Olga's request.
"Of course, she's not done!! And what do you mean about the Bratva? You're no longer needed there. They'll throw you out!!" Pavel yells at the top of his voice. He's standing behind Zorya. He will never dare to stand in front of me. Always in his mother's shadow. Fool.
"The Bratva is nothing without me, Pavel. I'm one of their most loved members." That's true. The brotherhood loves me.
"You really need to keep your dog on a leash." I turn to face Zorya, referring to Pavel.
"How dare you say that about my son??" She practically screams. In the past, I'll ask if I'm not her son as well. But not anymore.
She raises her hand to slap me again, but it never comes.
I tilt my head to see her glaring at Adrian who's holding her wrist. Another interesting fellow.
"Who the hell is this??" She says in Russian, her voice thundering in the room.
None of my men has ever stopped her from hitting me.
"That's my new guard. Meet Adrian." I introduce myself, my smile never dropping from my face.
"Tell him to get his hands off me, or I'll get him killed."
"The boss should not be touched." He simply says and Zorya's nose flares. Good Boy.
"You are you to say that?"
"His guard. And it's my duty to protect him." My smile widens.
"Get your hands off my mother!" Pavel snaps at Adrian who slowly lets her go.
"Keep the food Olga. I'll have lunch. I'm running late." I say to Olga. Zorya's drama never ends and I have a meeting.
"Okay, Koyla." Olga mumbles, knowing things are already getting heated up.
"See you." She nods at me reassuringly and I begin to head outside. Ilya and Adrian are behind me.
"Where's Kuzma?" I ask, having not seen him around.
"In the car boss." Ilya replies and I only nod.
We get to the car and Kuzma is already seated in the driver seat. Ilya joins him in the front.
Adrian is about to join the other SUV when I order him to join me in the back. I really enjoy the way he stares at me, before reluctantly joining me.
I wanted to kill him the moment I caught him, but I didn't. I find Adrian intriguing. Very intriguing.
Firstly, he's pretty. Very pretty. That earned him the name Pretty Boy. Secondly, my dick has been getting hard only around him.
I fuck both men and women for fun and I originally thought it was nothing when I got hard torturing him.
Fuck! I thought his pretty face drew me in at first. But those two brunettes could not get my cock hard last night and just when I saw Adrian this morning, my dick became hard. I want to fuck him and smear my cum all over his pretty face.
But I doubt he is gay and that's exactly what I'm going to find out. Adrian Petrov is a mystery that I can't wait to unravel.
I notice the way Adrian keeps clearing his throat and staring outside the window. He's nervous. I smile to myself as I look outside as well.
We arrive in front of a huge gate. The gate opens and our car drives in.
As we approach the compound, I'm enveloped by an aura of seclusion and security.
The house sits atop a hill, surveying its surroundings like a fortress. The perimeter is shrouded in tall, dense trees.
To the left, a sleek, modern gatehouse stands still, manned by heavily armed guards. Their eyes scan every visitor, their faces expressionless.
As we near the main house, the sound of distant traffic fades, replaced by the soft hum of security cameras and the muted chatter of guards patrolling the grounds.
The car stops in front of the main house, and we all step down.
"Kuzma, you'll wait here. Ilya and Adrian will follow me in." I instruct and notice the way Ilya looks at Adrian. He doesn't trust him.
He threw a fit last night, asking why I suddenly employed another person.
"Okay, Boss." Kuzma nods, feeling glad to wait back in the car. He's the carefree one and Ilya? I swear to God, I've never seen him smile.
"Come on." I say to Ilya and Adrian and they both walk behind me. The doors are opened by the guards as I step into the grand entrance of the Pakhan's house.
The high ceilings, ornate chandeliers, and lavish furnishings scream luxury and power.
I walk through the sprawling foyer, my eyes scanning the lavish decor. The walls are adorned with expensive artwork, and the floors are covered in plush carpets that silence my footsteps. Every detail screams opulence.
To my left lies the lavish dining hall, where we host elaborate feasts and high-stakes meetings. The long, polished table seats twenty comfortably, surrounded by velvet-draped windows and a stunning crystal chandelier.
Moving deeper, I enter the heart of our operations. The conference room. Here, our Pakhan and top-tier members strategize and make life-or-death decisions.
Ilya stops and Adrian takes that as a cue to stop, while I walk inside, the room exudes power, with Six leather-bound chairs surrounding a sleek wooden table, and a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf filled with law books and tactical manuals.
"You're late, Rostov." Alexei says with a straight face as I take a look at my wristwatch.
"At least I came before Mikhail." I nod towards an empty chair before sitting on the other empty chair.
Everyone is already present, except Mikhail. He's always late.
"Hello, Dmitri." I smile at the gray-haired man. The Pakhan of the brotherhood. He waves briefly at me and I proceed to say hi to the other members.
"The fact that you've finally shown your face after six months is quite surprising, Rostov." Vladimir utters after a while and I turn to face the brown-haired man. He's the oldest after the Pakhan.
"What can I say? I've been mourning my dear old dad." I flash a smirk at him. Vladimir and I never get along. He does not get along with anyone. The man is annoying as hell.
Vladimir snorts, his lips curling into a sneer. "Mourning? You? That's rich, Rostov. I'm surprised you didn't celebrate his passing with a champagne toast."
I chuckle, feeling the familiar spark of annoyance ignite within me. "Oh, I did. In private, of course. Wouldn't want to offend your delicate sensibilities, Vladimir."
As I speak, I notice the faint flush rising up Vladimir's neck, a sign of his growing anger. I press on, eager to push his buttons.
"How's your blood pressure been? Still through the roof, I hope?"
Vladimir's face darkens, his jaw clenched.
"You think you're funny, don't you? Well, let me tell you, Rostov, your jokes are as stale as your attitude."
I shrug, feigning nonchalance. "Attitude? Coming from the king of condescension? That's adorable, Vladimir." I deadpan.
"That's enough!" Dmitri's loud voice brings order to the room.
"And Rostov is back again." Viktor who's sitting beside me chuckles.
"I know I've been away for six months," I begin and just when I'm about to continue, the door swings open and Mikhail walks in, closing the door behind him.
Viktor glances at his watch and says, "Right on time, as always, Mikhail. You're only 15 minutes late."
"Welcome to the meeting, Mikhail. We've already begun." Dmitri, seated across from Vladimir chimes in, looking displeased.
Mikhail flashes a brief smile, ignoring Viktor's jab. "Apologies, gentlemen."
He strides to the table, his eyes locking onto mine. "Hey, Rostov."
"Mikhail." I nod, smiling slightly.
Mikhail takes the empty chair beside me, his focus shifting to Dmitri. His expression turns neutral and professional.
"I've not been away from the brotherhood. You can ask Dmitri. I'm up to date with everything that has been going on. I just needed time to mourn my father." I continue after Mikhail settles down. I did not mourn my father. He's not worth it.
"You don't just walk in and out of the brotherhood as you like, Rostov." Alexei mumbles under his breath but everyone hears him loud and clear. He's the quiet one, always reserved to himself.
"My father-"
"Your father died. Yes, we know that Nikolai. We were all present at his funeral." Viktor interrupts me with a calculating gaze in his eyes and I can feel Vladimir smirking at me. That bastard, I'll definitely punch him someday.
"You were absent for six months and that's a serious crime. You can get kicked out." Dmitri states. I already prepared myself for this. Too bad I'm not getting kicked out.
"Hey, cut my man some slack. This is Nikolai. We can't just kick him out. He's our brother. I say we vote." Mikhail smiles, raising his left hand.
"I say we forgive him."
"You just arrived Mikhail, you don't just waltz in here and start casting votes." Vladimir snarls at Mikhail. What a bitter pill.
Viktor's hand goes up. "He's back. Can we wrap this up?" His gesture of support is accompanied by a glance at his watch, probably eager to return to his daughter. He's a single dad.
"Whatever." Alexei rolls his eyes as he raises his hand as well.
"That's three to one." My lips curve up triumphantly as I smirk at Vladimir who glares at me. I lean back, savoring the victory. "Looks like the majority rules, Vladimir."
Pakhan's calm voice intervenes. "Enough. The decision is made. Rostov stays."
Vladimir's glare intensifies, but Dmitri's stern expression silences him.
Dmitri's gaze shifts to me, his tone measured. "Rostov, you've tested the brotherhood's patience once. Disappear again, and there won't be a next time. Do you understand?"
I nod, still smirking. "Perfectly, Pakhan."
Vladimir pushes back from the table, his chair scraping against the floor. "This is a mistake."
Dmitri's warning glance follows Vladimir out of the room.
"Welcome back, man." Mikhail pats me on the shoulder as I nod briefly at him.
"You were late again." I whisper at him and the corner of his lips lifts.
"Got caught up shagging." He mouths back at me and I roll my eyes, turning away from him.
In our line of work, friendships are luxuries we can't afford. Mikhail's the closest thing I have to one. The rest are just temporary alliances, held together by shared interests.