Chapter Two
Varya
Growing up in Petersburg, Russia, I learned the only way I could get out of my poor neighborhood is by getting married to a man who could provide for me. The same man has to be able to provide for my family or they wouldn’t let me go.
The streets were littered with scholars, businessmen and then bratva men. The businessmen are most likely married and are looking for a side piece so their wives can catch a break. The bratva men are the ones who can provide.
My problem? I ended up marrying one of the most vicious men in the bratva world, Sergei Markov. The man kills anyone who crosses him and he doesn’t care too much about it. He would kill me if he knew I was unhappy and contemplating leaving him.
Which is why I’m seated next to him on our yacht so he can conduct business.
“Those mother fuckers are on to us,” Vlad, Sergei’s lieutenant, stutters and looks over at me.
I’m not paying too much attention to their conversations because it makes me upset. I hate the violence the bratva brings to my life and I hate the way Sergei watches my every move to make sure I’m safe.
However, recently, I found out it isn’t to make sure I’m safe. It is because he’s pissed off a majorpahkanand he is probably going to strike soon.
I spin my wine glass in my hand and try to pay attention to stars that are shining in the sky above us. Anything so I don’t have to hear the truth about their plans.
“Varya,” Sergei murmurs with little care. “Can you get me another Scotch?”
Smiling sweetly at Sergei and Vlad, I take the glass and walk towards the kitchen on the yacht. It used to make me feel good to be the one who could be there for Sergei and help him with his business. Now it makes me feel like I’m a dog.
Sergei commandeered the yacht about four years ago when someone refused to pay him for his services. I love the yacht. I think it is really pretty and super spacious. However, once I learned what happened to the previous owners of the yacht, I found it less and less pretty.
Pushing my long black hair over my shoulder, I look around the kitchen for the bottle of Scotch that just happens to be Sergei’s favorite. The man sure does love to entertain.
“Mrs. Markov?”
I spin on my feet to see Benny, our butler, standing in front of me with a phone extended from his hand. He is a short Italian man who was a previous employee of the previous owners of the yacht. I have never had any issues with Benny, but Sergei likes to berate him.
“Yes?”
He looks over to the entrance back out onto the deck to make sure my husband isn’t going to be coming in. I would laugh but I don’t. Sergei is entertaining and showing off.
Plus, they are trying to figure out some top-secret mission they started a while back. I just smile and nod.
“You have a phone call.”
The woman I have become wants to question him on who is on the other end of the call. The woman I have become would have demanded he take a message and go back out to be with Sergei and Vlad. But I don’t.
Instead, I take the phone and place it up to my ear. “Hello?”
A disembodied voice is on the other end of the call. “Is this Varya Markov?”
“Who’s calling, please?” I question politely.
“Answer the question. Is this Varya Markov?”
“Sir, I’m not interested in what you’re selling. Good-bye,” I hang up the phone and hand it back to Benny.
I know for the whole night, I will think about who could have been on the other end of the phone. Who could have been calling me on the satellite phone? Hell, who would have known to get ahold of me on the satellite phone?
By the time I’m back outside with Sergei and Vlad, they are now seated in front of the ocean. Sergei nods at me and places his hand out for me to give him the glass.
The once handsome man I once thought he was has been gone for a long time. The man that is in front of me is full of greed and power. The old and new Sergei are completely different.
“Did I hear someone called you?”
