And loving her even more than I did yesterday.
* * *
When I reach Dmitriyev Ltd., I’m surprised to see the meeting hall practically full of the men from the brotherhood.
No one is ever late for a meeting, but they’re never this early, either.
We have about twenty minutes before the ceremony begins.
Everyone’s presence heightens my awareness of the importance of tonight.
They’re all dressed for the occasion and the venue. I’ve always thought this building with its spectacular array of crystal chandeliers and lavish European design is too elaborate for men like us. Most of us have been behind bars more times than the years we’ve lived on this earth, and most of us wouldn’t have minded meeting in a hovel.
Everyone who is anyone will be here to witness this momentous night. A night few see in their lifetimes. Those who are older will remember when my father became Pakhan. Those who are younger will remember tonight for the same reason.
No matter how young or old the men are, they’ll all be eager to be part of what happens tonight because it will be the first and only time in our history when a choice of Pakhan was made this way. A decision between two brothers.
I’m wearing a suit with the red emblems of the family crest stitched on the left breast pocket. It’s the only splash of color I’ve worn in years. Ivan will be wearing the same. I haven’t spotted him nor Father yet.
It will be all I can do to tamp down my wrath when I do see Ivan.
Motherfucking bastard.
I can’t believe he’s outsmarted me in such a way. He’ll fucking get his.
I swear it. I swear it on my mother and sister’s graves.
I swear it on mine. If it kills me to bring him down to justice, that’s what I’ll do, and we’ll die together.
I walk into the foyer and see Sophia coming through the door on the other side. That means Father should be here, too.
She also knows the answer to this night.
She smiles sweetly at me. I don’t know how to take it. Is she smiling at me because I was chosen, or is that a smile of sympathy?
I move toward her, and she approaches me with outstretched arms.
I feel her warmth before she reaches and hugs me the way a mother would.
“Look at you.” She beams with pride.
“I scrub up well, don’t I?” I smirk.
“Oh, Mikhail, I think we can all agree that you more than scrub up well. I’m proud of you. This is a momentous night no matter what happens. Be proud of the work you’ve done at the company and for the Bratva.” She nods.
I try to detect any underlying tones hinting at the answer, but I can’t pick up anything. That’s what makes Sophia good at her job. She’ll probably be the only woman in our history who will sit through our meetings and be part of the leadership.
In her lifetime, she would have witnessed two inaugurations. This will be her third.
“Thank you, Auntie.”
She reaches into her pocket and hands me a little khvorost, a Russian sweet crisp pastry shaped like angel wings. She used to make them for us at Christmas when we were kids, but sometimes she’d surprise us with them.
She hasn’t made any in years.
I smile as I take it and look at the little angel in my hands.
“You don’t think I’m too old for this? I’m nearly twenty-nine, Auntie.”
