Gilded Tears: A Russian Mafia Romance (Kovalyov Bratva Book 2) by Nicole Fox (e book free reading .txt) 📕

a party!” he crows, clearly aware of the open hostility in the room that’s directed at him. “I hated to miss it these last several years.”

“You were exiled for a fucking reason,” Maggadino intones harshly.

“Not a good reason,” Budimir interjects, before Kovar can get a word in. “Kovar should have been included in the council meetings from the beginning.”

“Stanislav was threatened by my presence,” Kovar replies. “Which is the only reason he convinced you all that I was a menace. Why, I wouldn’t hurt a butterfly!”

I grit my teeth, trying to control the rage that roils through me at his words.

“My brothers,” Budimir says, standing up. “I invited you all here today to usher in a new era. My brother was a good don, but he was short-sighted. His ambitions were painfully… limited.”

Motherfucker.

As Budimir continues to parrot his agenda for a bigger and brighter future, I notice Guzik scanning the room.

He’s the most still of all the dons, and yet, his eyes are never stationary. They land on Adrik—and I see recognition pass across his face.

Then his eyes dart to Maxim, and the same thing happens.

Again with Alexei, and with Vasily, until they’ve crossed over all the waiters. All my men.

Then he looks at me.

Fuck. He knows something is up.

The question now is: what will he do about it?

My next move will depend on his.

“I have bigger aspirations—”

“Budimir,” Guzik interrupts, raising his hand slightly. He has at least four jeweled rings adorning his fingers.

My heart is pounding.

If he gives us away, it could all end here, as quickly as it started. I’ll be tortured and dumped in the Pacific. Esme will never know what happened to me. My son will never know his father.

All I can do is wait.

“Yes, Guzik?” Budimir says, frowning with annoyance. Clearly, he’s not happy about being interrupted.

“Your nephew…” he croons.

I tense. Every muscle on high alert. Watching, watching, watching...

“What about him?”

“You claimed he was dead,” Guzik continues. “But we never saw a body.”

“Is my word not enough?” Budimir asks.

Guzik shrugs. “I think it’s an important symbol,” he says. “There are still many among your faction that are loyal to him, no doubt.”

Budimir’s eyes narrow. “There are none who would follow him over me,” he claims. “He’s only a boy.”

“Some would argue he’s the rightful don of the Bratva,” Maggadino chimes in.

“I am the rightful fucking don of the Bratva,” Budimir roars, raising his voice with venom. “You know why: because I took what I wanted, the way all great dons do. As for Artem… my nephew is dead. And if he isn’t, then I will hunt him down and put a bullet in his brain myself.”

“So he’s not actually dead then?” Guzik presses.

Budimir grits his teeth, realizing he’s slipped. “There are reports that claim he might still be at large,” he admits. “But it’s a small problem. He doesn’t have the men or the strength to come against me. The Bratva made a choice after my brother’s death. They chose me.”

“Did they, though?” I ask loudly.

I step out from the shadows.

A ripple of shock runs through the room, though no one actually speaks. My men part like the Red Sea and I walk between them, approaching the small circle of dons.

Some of them are staring at me with dumbfounded expressions on their faces.

Others look mildly impressed.

But only Budimir looks furious.

“Hello, uncle,” I say. “Congratulations on your first dons’ council meeting. But you forgot one very important invitation.”

He scowls. “I should have made sure you were dead in that forest.”

I grin. “But you wanted to make me suffer, remember?” I remind him.

“It’s not a mistake I’ll make again.”

“You won’t get the chance to correct it.”

Budimir stares at me for a moment and then he laughs coldly. “You think you can take on the might of the Bratva alone?”

“The might of the Bratva?” I echo.

I don’t glance at my men—I don’t want to risk it—but I can see from my peripheral vision that they’re converging around Budimir, positioning themselves so that they can take him down if they have to.

“The Bratva has splintered, whether you realize it or not,” I tell him. “You stole their loyalty; you never earned it.”

Budimir glares at me, the loathing evident in his filmy eyes. “You sound like your father.”

“My father valued his men,” I tell him. “He protected them. What he didn’t do was threaten them.”

I see the flicker of uncertainty pass across his eyes. He’s wondering where I’ve gotten my information and how. He’s wondering who he needs to kill.

“I am the rightful don of the Bratva,” I announce to the whole room. “And I am claiming what is mine.”

“You are a fool,” Budimir barks. “Every man in this room answers to me!”

He practically screams the last word and I can start to see my uncle unravel. This is not how he had imagined this meeting going. The disappointment is making him sloppy.

“Each man here is an ally, not a lackey,” I reply. “And each man who gives you their loyalty will expect loyalty in return.”

“Don’t preach to me, you little shit,” Budimir snarls. “I command more men than every other man in this room combined, and if asking nicely won’t do it, then sheer force will have to suffice.”

Maggadino rises ponderously to his feet. He glances towards Budimir and then towards me.

Slowly, one by one, every other don does the same.

“This is not our fight,” Maggadino says. “I will not concern myself with this.”

He turns and makes for the door. The two guards he had with him follow behind.

The remaining dons seem to realize that they have a decision to make, too.

“Maggadino is right,” Ruwindu booms. “This is not my fight.”

He makes his exit. Behind him follow Juarez, Guzik, and Ambrosino, and each take their men with them.

Budimir glances towards the two underworld mob bosses to his left.

Kovar and Bufalino.

I know instantly what the two of them will choose. They know that I will be the death of their ambitions, whereas Budimir will grant them free rein and a