“What the fuck does that mean?”
“You think you can keep all these people on the same tight leash our father did?”
Ivan narrowed his eyes. “You doubt it?”
“He was a mean son of a bitch.”
“And I’m not?”
They stared each other down for a long moment. Too long, considering how many people were watching them. Then Alexei sighed, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “No, you’re right, Vanya. You’re fucking perfect for the job.”
It should have been a victory, however minute, but somehow it didn’t feel like Ivan had won. “Where’s Sascha?” he asked, instead of investigating why that might be.
“Getting completely shit-faced.”
Of course. Their baby brother was maybe one of the few people truly sorry their father was gone. He had a right to mourn. But still, there were dangers in Sascha losing control on a night like this.
“Watch him,” Ivan ordered.
Alexei raised his glass in a mock salute. “I always do.”
He rose from the booth and shuffled away, brushing off the men who tried to drag him into their booths for a toast.
Alexei wasn’t completely off course with his misgivings. Their father had fought his way up the ranks through cruelty and violence, and now the men who had served him so faithfully would be waiting to see if Ivan could measure up. Looking for any sign of weakness.
Ivan eyed the room over his glass. These men had been part of his family for almost as long as he could remember. But now they were competition, of sorts.
Succession of a business like this was never a sure thing, was it?
A shadow fell over the table. Sergei, swaying slightly as he loomed over Ivan. It wasn’t surprising he was letting loose—Sergei had been with Ivan’s father from the beginning, and he wasn’t afraid of a little vodka making him lose esteem among the men.
“Where are your brothers?” Sergei asked, his words surprisingly clear considering how much alcohol he must have had in his system.
“Alexei went to corral Sascha.”
“Good,” Sergei said shortly. He’d never approved of Sascha’s coddling; Ivan knew that much. He’d heard Sergei argue against it with his father more than once. One of the very few things the two hadn’t agreed on.
Sergei shoved his way into the booth with significantly less grace than Alexei had. “When something—or someonebecomes a liability—” he said, not at all subtle. “You cut it loose. Even family.”
Ivan nodded, not ready to get into the age-old argument over Sascha. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Sergei sat there, sipping his vodka for a few minutes, then spoke again, “Your father. He loved your mother. It almost cost him his sons.” He sneered, his eyes unfocused over his glass. “He was right to do what he did.”
Images ran through Ivan’s mind, swift and horrible. A pale corpse. Bloodstains on a faded yellow sheet. “Of course he was,” he said evenly.
He couldn’t feel his face for some reason, but he was skilled enough now at controlling it that he was almost certain it was giving nothing away.
Sergei stared at him, steely-eyed, for a long moment, then it was as if a flip switched, and he was all smiles. He clapped Ivan on the shoulder, grinning broadly. “You’ll be a good leader, hm? With Sergei here to help.”
“I want to modernize,” Ivan told him, almost before he could think.There wasn’t much he could reform—not without making himself a target—but he could do away with the dank warehouse his father had used as his meeting room, forgo the scent of mold and old blood.
“Of course, of course,” Sergei told him, magnanimous. “You’re in charge now.” He swayed toward Ivan across the table. “Just not too many changes, hm? Makes the men restless.”
Ivan looked out at those men again. It was suddenly harder to focus on individual faces—they were just one cohesive mass, all staring, their eye sockets bottomless pits. Alexei and Sascha were nowhere to be found, or maybe they’d become part of that staring mass.
Maybe Ivan had downed too much vodka after all.
He wasn’t used to drinking during the day like this, and it was sure to go on all night. There wouldn’t be a moment alone, not until well after dawn. It wasn’t as if Ivan could leave either. Not when it was his father they were celebrating.
