Yelena
“Ms. Taylor, welcome,” the older gentleman says with a slight bow as soon as I step foot outside the airport. I blink at the harsh light. God, it’s nine in the damn morning and this man is very cheerful.
I grimace at the man using my mother’s maiden name. No one calls me Taylor, it’s disrespectful in our world. I am Yelena Alekseeva, the daughter of Lev Alekseev, the granddaughter of Maskim Alekseev, and the great-granddaughter of Alexi. Two of the greatest Bratva leaders of our time and yet here, I am Ms. Taylor.
“Mr. Vasiliev is expecting you.” His Russian accent is not as heavy as I had expected, but it’s there enough to let everyone know that the man’s heritage is in fact Russian.
“Thank you...“ I leave the word hanging, wanting to know his name.
He smiles brightly at me, the lines in his face deepening, his eyes lighting up with the smile. This man is genuine and I like that. “Pavel, miss.” He takes my luggage and we walk toward the waiting vehicle.
I incline my head as I take his hand. “Well, Pavel, please call me Yelena. Miss Taylor is what my mom would prefer.”
His lips curl at the ends. I’m not in the least bit surprised that the man dislikes my mother. Most people do, my family included. “That’s probably true.”
I can’t help but smile at his assessment. “Trust me, it is. So tell me, Pavel, what’s Texas like?”
It’s hot as Hades and that’s something that I’m not used to, but I’m here for a while to recuperate, per my grandfather’s wishes.
His chuckle is low as he opens the car door for me. “I think you may like it, Yelena.” He closes the door once I’m inside and loads my luggage into the trunk.
I pull the seatbelt on, fighting back the whimper as pain rips through my side. God, it sucks being shot.
“Are there any good clubs?” I ask once he climbs into the car. It’s been a while since I’ve let my hair down and that’s something that I plan on doing a lot of while I’m here.
“Crimson,” he responds instantly as he starts the car up.
“I’ll check it out,” I reply with a smile, glad that my mother’s husband sent Pavel to collect me from the airport.
“What’s Nikolai like?” I question after a few minutes of silence.
My mother married him six months ago. I was invited to the wedding, but just like the previous three beforehand, I decided to do without the drama. After all, Nikolai makes my mother’s sixth husband and she’s not even fifty yet. The woman gives a whole new meaning to the word gold digger. The man in question is thirty-nine and probably the most dangerous man in the Russian Mafia outside of my grandfather. He’s ten years my mother’s junior, something I wouldn’t have expected. She usually goes for older guys.
He coughs deeply once. “Mr. Vasiliev is one of the best men that I know. He is a great man to work for. It is an honor.” The loyalty in his words is not unexpected, but the sincerity is. It tells me a lot and I’m slightly pleased that he has managed to instill this loyalty in his staff. It makes me wonder what the hell he’s doing married to my mother.
I have also done some digging on my newest stepfather. Something I do each and every time she gets married. Except this time, instead of going for the usual older millionaires, my mother has reverted back to her old ways and gone for a member of the Bratva. Of course, this time she fucked up by marrying the Pakhan of Texas. I should have realized when she told me his name was Nikolai that he was a member of the Bratva.
“How long are you staying in Austin for, Yelena?” Pavel questions as we drive toward my mother’s house.
“I’m not really sure yet. A few weeks, maybe a month.” Unfortunately I have to stay until I’m completely healed; the last thing I want to do is deal with a pissed off grandfather. That’s worse than dealing with my mother.
He nods. “I’ll be your driver while you’re here,” he informs me and I smile. I can deal with that. “As long as you’re happy with me doing so.”
“Yes, Pavel, that would be great. Thank you.” I settle back in the seat and pull my cell from my purse. I quickly send a text message to my grandfather letting him know that I made it to Austin.
Fifty minutes later and Pavel is pulling into a long winding driveway. I’m not surprised at the lavish home my mother has; she’s always wanted the best.
Pavel opens my door once he’s parked out front. “I’ll bring your luggage to your room, Mr. Vasiliev and Ms. Taylor are waiting for you.”
More disrespect from him calling my mother Ms. Taylor rather than Mrs. Vasiliev, but then again, I know how much of a bitch the woman who birthed me truly is.
“Thank you, Pavel, it was lovely to meet you,” I tell him as I press a kiss against his cheek after he helps me out of the vehicle.
His face flushes red, but the older gentleman smiles widely at me. “My pleasure, Yelena, please don’t hesitate to call me if you need to go anywhere.”
I nod as I move toward the steps that lead up to the house. “I will.”
I enter the house and take everything in. The crystal vases, the white walls, and expensive paintings. Everything screams my mother’s stamp on it. Walking toward the sound of voices, I spot a room to my left. It’s not as bright and airy like the rest of the house that I’ve seen. It’s got a huge sectional couch, and an even bigger TV system. This has to be Nikolai’s doing, there’s not a chance that my mom would have a couch that big.