Second Best (Volkov Bratva 1)

“Good. I want us to be the best of friends. The moment I saw you, I knew you were different.”

The waiter came over and Cara ordered us both a glass of wine. “Unless you can’t have any?”

“I’m fine.” I offered her a smile.

Slavik and I had been sleeping together often. Last night, he’d surprised me by climbing into bed only to wake me up to take what he wanted. He’d never done that before. The sex last night had led into this morning where we’d made love. I wasn’t even sure if I could call it making love.

We had sex.

I couldn’t think of Slavik on emotional terms. We were husband and wife through a peace treaty. To some, I was nothing more than his possession. We weren’t a love match.

The waiter came back with our wine and Cara shooed him away.

“It has been a busy couple of weeks. Business is booming. Anyway, back to Slavik, I’m so pleased he’s been able to find a good wife. For the longest time, I figured he’d spend it jumping from one woman to the next.” She winced. “I’m so sorry. I hope I haven’t upset you.”

I forced a smile. “You haven’t.”

“Good. We all know men are dogs. They see a woman and just jump on them for the fun.” She sighed. “Anyway, Slavik was … he wasn’t the king you see now. The ruler of states and his section. Ivan and Slavik are bastards of men who ran the original Bratva within this area, in fact. It was many years ago, long before your time. They lived on the streets. I should know, it’s where I joined them. There we were, three brats on the streets. No one wanted us. Slavik’s father was a brigadier, like him. He knocked up a whore, and because she refused to pay for an abortion, she got killed and Slavik ended up on the streets. So sad. He’d fought for every single meal he had. He’s a natural-born fighter. Ivan was a similar story, only … he had a stutter. Of course, his father, who was the boss back then, couldn’t have a son who stuttered.”

“Wow.” This was all news to me. “Was the Bratva as big then as it is now?”

“No,” Cara said. “You see, by kicking them out of the streets, their fathers thought they were so clever. Removing the problem. What they didn’t realize is by doing what they did, they created enemies. Two men who wanted nothing but revenge. They took over the streets. Together, they became a unit. It started small. Fights. Taking on turf. Robbing. You name it, Slavik and Ivan have done it. It took many years for Ivan to get over his stutter. It was so cute at one point.”

Cara smiled. “Anyway, word got back to their dads. Ivan and Slavik had built up this reputation in their late teens and decided to target Bratva territory. Slowly, they took it over until one day they had the meeting to end all meetings. Slavik and Ivan went in with their fathers, and the story goes they were the only two to come out. The others were removed in body bags. They took the Bratva and made it what it is today.”

“I had no idea about that.”

“There is so much going on around everyone. No one really knows the truth, but it’s there if people are willing to see it. More often than not, they refuse.”

“What about you?” I asked.

“Me? I was the one to help negotiate the meet. From a young age, I knew sex and women were the key to a man’s downfall. Give them the right pussy and goals, and they’re putty in your hands. They’ll do whatever you want. I helped bring them both to power by using my many skills.”

Cara smiled, but there was something off about it. I couldn’t exactly put my finger on it, but alarm bells began to ring inside my head. The smile also didn’t quite reach her lips.

“You must be very proud of them,” I said.

“I am. It’s great. They rule with an iron fist.”

“How come you’re not a brigadier?” I asked.

Cara’s fingers tightened around the glass she held. “A woman is never a brigadier, Aurora. I was given the option, but the truth was no man would ever respect a whore.”

“I’m so sorry.” I grabbed her hand, and she smiled at me.

“It is so … hard to make friends.”

I agreed.

“You must have a whole lot of friends.”

“No, I don’t.” I sipped at the wine, not enjoying the taste.

Cara signaled to the waiter, and we ordered our lunch.

“I find that hard to believe,” Cara said.

“What?”

“You not having any friends. There must be loads of people who adore you.”

This time I forced a smile to my lips. “No. I’ve … for some reason, I don’t know why, I’m not liked.” I glanced down into my glass, insecurities rearing their ugly head. “I mean, I’m always there and I am a good friend. I keep secrets and I’m always on time, and I’m willing and able to make it work, but, no, for some reason, I’m … never liked.”