The Fixer: Bratva's Dark Allegiance (Bratva Dark Allegiance Book 1)

by Raven Scott

  “You should totally do that, Oppie— after I leave. I’m gonna be late.” My admission earned me a soft swat on the arm, and I frowned lightly. “What?”

  “Don’t you scientists believe in the concept of time?” She shook her head with a faint tsk, leaning on the counter next to me but opposite the mirror.

  Adjusting my tie clip to my shirt, I didn’t answer as I pursed my lips thinly. I always cared about how I looked; rarely did I ever go to work without putting a little more than the medium into my appearance. “We acknowledge the concept of time, just think it’s utter horse shit and time itself isn’t real. Concepts are ideas. Hence, they’re realistic or feasible in some form.”

  Rolling her eyes at me, Ophelia didn’t get a chance to open her mouth when I kissed her cheek. Checking my watch, I headed out of the bathroom only to pause and glance back at her. “Where’s the kitchen from here? I left my briefcase in there.”

  “Down the stairs and directly left, back…then right. Want a map of the important places?”

  Shaking my head at her snark, I gazed around Ophelia’s childhood room on my way out. The sound of water pounding against tile followed me, but it became a drone in my ears. I’d suggested keeping this house because I simply didn’t realize how big it was. For her parents, brother, and two sisters, the family home had twice as many rooms, and at least half of them had their own bathrooms.

  It seemed like when planning this house, the architect wanted each room to be a home in itself. Well, when you hate your spouse and your kids, not wanting to see each other is par for the course.

  I hadn’t been inside Ophelia’s parents’ former room, but if she was to be believed, they were more like apartments. Her parents had separate rooms on either side of the mansion—this was how much they hated each other. Rumor had it, the only time they acted even friendly towards each other was when on official business. Once all their children were old enough, there was no reason to keep up the act.

  Which was fucking, infuriatingly pathetic.

  Entering the kitchen to snatch my briefcase off the large island, I opened the flap to check the contents, but my mind was elsewhere. It amazed me how Ophelia had turned out so stable when it was obvious everyone in her life hated each other. Her younger sisters were particularly bitchy while her elder brother had been enabled to hell and back.

  Yet, Ophelia was wonderful and kind and yes, she could be a hard ass at times, but she felt remorse for it, despite knowing it was necessary. She was so damn smart, too. I mean, she theorized that Aleksander Makovich was essentially trying to resurrect the USSR because his father was the victim of a bad assassination attempt. Ophelia wasn’t the type to overreach, either. Even if she was off the mark, it wasn’t by much.

  “Here…“

  Snapping my briefcase shut again, I shouldered the strap before Ophelia tossed something at me from the archway. The keys were cold against my palm.

  She crossed her arms as she leaned on the wide frame. “Don’t crash…it’s my favorite car.”

  “And why am I using your car? Can you even drive?” Ophelia usually took a car driven by a professional wherever she wanted to go if she couldn’t walk.

  Shrugging lightly, she shook her head.

  I glanced down at the keys. “Thanks. I promise not to crash.”

  “I’m calling my family’s lawyer today, too. I’m liquidating all the cars, so if you want one, just let me know.”

  My brows rose at the offer, and the mention of a lawyer. Shuffling out of the kitchen, I wrapped my arm around her waist as she led me down a hallway I hadn’t been through, yet.

  “My sisters are minors and Makovich’s lawyers are already appraised of the situation. No doubt they’ve been busy since the day of the attempted assassination. Also…” Trailing off, she pushed open a door to reveal a huge garage. Despite all the crap the maids supposedly stole, the cars were all untouched. Two rows of perfectly parked, sparkling vehicles lined either side of a wide aisle. The faintest layer of dust sat on everything, probably gathering before the roundup.

  A deep, forest green two door caught my eye, so I sauntered over to it to peek through the windows. Obviously, the vehicle was foreign, but the interior was really nice. It wasn’t too flashy, but still a little flashy and obviously expensive. The top went down, too, which would be nice during the summer. “I like this one.”

  “They all use the same key… my parents weren’t very smart.”

  A bark of laughter burst from me to echo through the garage; it was exactly what I expected of those people.

  She smiled slightly. “When you get back, the rest may not be here. Do you wanna take a look?”

  “No, I’m not gonna take advantage of the windfalls of your parents’ deaths any more than I have already. I consider myself more than blessed that they’re not hanging over our relationship.”

  Soft palms caressed my sides and up my chest and Ophelia rested her cheek against my back.

  Covering her hands with mine, I couldn’t hold in my sigh of utter contentment. Things were going back to normal faster than I had anticipated.

  Almost… too fast, not to be suspicious.

  “I want you to take advantage it. I want to share everything with you and I have the means. I’m never going to drive any of these, so the obvious is to give you one. And we’ll… we renovate the house. Rebuild it, even— maybe. If everything goes okay, I was going to fall off my apartment lease.”

  Smiling at her tentativeness, I squeezed her hands in agreement, as warmth flooded my chest. “You have plenty of time to make a concrete decision, Oppie. I’ll support whatever you want to do. It’s your house, your money, your cars. I’m just riding your perky ass and all the benefits.” She grabbed my ass in response, and I turned to cup her chin and draw her lips to mine. “Make me proud with that beautiful mind.”

  “You better get going before you miss the whole lecture, Sascha.”

  The sultry lilt in her tone skittered up my spine. Ophelia just knew how to get me going. Twirling my keys, I shook my head slightly as her arm fell from around me. “I’ll see you later.”

  22

  Sascha

  “You look happy. What happened in Saint Petersburg?”

  Malda’s wasn’t a face I’d seen in a while… at least, it seemed like more than two days. “Ophelia fucked Aleksander in the ass,”

  Slender brows rose high at this statement.

  I grinned almost stupidly wide. “He made a mistake, not bothering with her.”

  “I know and so does the Patriarch. Control is a fickle thing, isn’t it? I’ve been sent to ask you what you plan to do with what you know.” Sitting on the edge of the pew, Malda watched me with narrowed, intent eyes. “It’s true…he initiated the assassination on himself. The old man didn’t think she’d get it so fast. He wants to meet you.”

  My eyes turned to slits. “What? When? I’m not dressed to meet royalty. I didn’t even comb my beard.” I stroked my beard as Malda giggled lightly, but I was anything but happy. The silence was deafening, my gazed drifting from her to discover the only other body in the room.

  Seated all the way in the back, right next to the door, was a frail, gaunt body draped in a grey suit. His gaze took in everything, it seemed.

  I had to physically stop myself from gulping in dread like some bad cartoon character. Shit— shit— I wasn’t prepared for this shit when I dismissed my class. Worse— I had an entire hour and a half until my next lecture. I’m not going to be able to go over my notes on the principle of atomic particle acceleration.

  “You’re a very easy man to find, Sascha Matheson.” His voice crackled slightly from age. “I’ve been meaning to find the time to speak with you, but considering how intently I’ve had to manage my son…”

  I inhaled a stabilizing breath. Taking the stairs slowly, I willed my heart to stop racing.

  “Listen, uh— your… Patriarchship sir… I know you didn’t attempt to assassinate yourself just to have an excuse
to talk to me without Aleksander knowing about it. He’s not you and it seems, he sees a lot less than he thinks.” I sat across the aisle from him to claps my hands together. “If you want to know about Oppie, you should ask her.”

  A ghost of a smile tilted his thin lips. “You’ve met my daughter, Kiri.”

  Blinking hard, I frowned in confusion.

  The old man arched a brow. “Obviously, she didn’t make that good an impression on you. She’s at that age, I suppose Ophelia is the same age as my eldest daughter, Ana, when she married Zetski for power.”

  “There’s too many problems with that to bother putting into words, but I’ll narrow it to three. Ophelia refuses to marry me…” Holding up a hand, I touched my fingertips together as I leaned back against the pew. “I’d be the one marrying up if she did. Thirdly, I don’t care about your daughters or Aleksander, or you. You’re Ophelia’s problem. Kiri Makovich’s bad attempt to flirt with me ‒ or whatever the hell she was doing ‒ is that what this is about?”

  “… My wife would’ve liked you, Sascha. You’re realistic and patient. Nothing was a problem that couldn’t be solved. Knowledge is power, blah, blah, blah…” Twirling his wrist dismissively, Vyachaslav rolled his eyes with a disgusted expression. “I’ve known for a long time that Ophelia has been cleaning up her family’s… issues. The others, as well. I don’t approve of the way my son handled this, but it served his purpose and got the job done.”

  “If you’re not satisfied, tell him, not me.”

  He tilted his head curiously, his wrinkles deepening in thought.

  “Honestly, sir, I still don’t understand why you’re here.”

  “I’m here because I want you to convince Ophelia to abandon Aleksander.”

  I choked on my own spit, the sound echoed in the empty, small lecture hall. Covering my mouth with both my hands, I stared at the old man through boggled eyes as I coughed again.

  The lines around his mouth showed his graveness. “As you’ve said, Ophelia makes Aleksander look incapable. This is not true at all, as I’m sure you’ve already realized. He’s extremely capable. She’s just a deeper thinker. Ophelia doesn’t need to be both brains and brawn. Aleksander does.”

  “What the fuck!” I squeaked like a fucking prepubescent boy, and

  Vyachaslav even had the audacity to wince.

  “W-why the fuck— what? Do you honestly think he’ll allow that?”

  “Ophelia is a capable woman, Sascha. You more than anyone else understands exactly how perceptive and intuitive she is. She outclasses all my children combined, especially my daughters. Kiri attempting to seduce you is a perfect example of how far her perception delves. Ana has ambition but no drive. Julie, Izzy and Mila…they’ve got the collective mental acuity of a hamster, unable to see outside their cages at the entire room.”

  If I wasn’t so damn shocked, I would’ve been impressed with the disdain in Vyachaslav’s voice.

  He went on, “If I thought that I had a better chance for Ophelia to work for us, I would suggest that instead. However, I’m more than sympathetic to her situation.”

  “No.” I stood. “You can ask her yourself, but that’ll be your answer. Ophelia isn’t going to stop. She’ll never admit it, but she likes her job. Or… you know, she likes the potential of the job. Considering all the power Aleksander handed her that she can dangle in front of him, I’d suggest waiting until that gets boring before making your proposal. You’ve got it backwards. Your best chance is to ask her to work for you, not let her go.

  Casting me a curious glance, Vyachaslav frowned darkly.” “You’re going to just ignore the danger of having that power?”

  I took a few steps down as I thought about this prospect. Ophelia being in danger made me sick to my stomach. But she, more than me, knew exactly how dangerous that was. Shrugging lightly, I shook my head with a sigh. “It’s not my issue to ignore, Vyachaslav. I will support what Ophelia wants, but I’m not going to convince her to do anything. If you’d like me to present the option…I’ll do that. Only Ophelia knows what’s best for her. I know what’s best for me. Together, we’ll know what’s best for us. We do talk to each other, unlike you and your son.” Heading back down to my podium, my brain worked so fast that I worried smoke would pour out of my ears. The ache behind my eyes intensified as I clenched my jaw hard.

  “Lyov, my youngest son, wants me to kill her. Do you have any idea why?”

  My skin crawled at the viciousness of Vyachaslav’s stare and the hairs on the back of my neck bristled. “She’s capable of handling herself. If he wants to try, he can fail, just like Aleksander failed when he let emotions get in the way. Ophelia takes emotion into account and she doesn’t let it drive her actions.” Is this really a conversation I just had? Why? Turning to him as he sat, stately and old and growing into the pew like a fungus, I frowned and stroked my beard thoughtfully. “You came to see me because you thought you’d be able to convince me easier than her? And you brought up all the women in your family as some way to make me think you’ve got experience with the mystery that is the gender? You know… it’s a good thing you’re old, or you’d look just about as stupid as Aleksander does right now… sir.”

  “I’m afraid you put far too much faith in that girl. Things aren’t going to end well for either of you if you don’t, at the very least, attempt to—”

  Closing my eyes, I sighed a terrible, rough sigh and ran my hands up my face into my hair. Twisting on my heel to face Vyachaslav fully, I stalked back up the aisle as his hawk like eyes locked on me. My irritation over the simple fact that he was here no doubt showed on my face, but I didn’t bother hiding it. “Maybe, just maybe…I can’t convince her of anything because I don’t know how dire the situation is. You come here to my work, to tell me about the shit job you did raising your kids. That your prodigal son feels threatened, and you fabricated an attempt on your life, and for what? Vyachaslav Makovich? Why did you do that? Why are you here? Why are you avoiding Ophel—“ My barrage dried at the top of my tongue as what seemed like genuine worry flashed in his eyes. Almost too sharply, my brain skidded to a stop and my jaw threatened to flop right on the floor. “Y-you didn’t—you’re not…” Even the youngest of Vyachaslav’s children was older than Ophelia by a few years, I thought. Lyov ‒ Ophelia had a run in with him, and Malda showed up to save her from the guy.

  The Patriarch’s face darkened like thunder clouds.

  At his reaction, my brows rose as a bark of harsh laughter burst from my throat. “You’re avoiding her because you’re her biological father. Her digging…there’s no way she won’t find out.”

  “… I was not necessarily a consenting party,” he barked out. “This was a long, long time ago, Sascha Matheson, when Ophelia’s parents’ still thought they could curry my favor. Cherinivsky…”

  This is wild. I might pass out. Slinking into the seat across from him yet again, I stretched out my legs and flopped my head back to frown at the high ceiling. Vyachaslav obviously had demons and more than most, but this was just—mindboggling.

  He went on, “My wife died, but I had to continue on. I’m not proud of what I did in my grief. It’s haunted me and I can never forgive myself. If Ophelia were to discover that she’s a Makovich…that her parents plotted that night with the intent to use her to burrow under my fingernails many years later…”

  “It’d probably be a relief.” Ophelia’s image flashed behind my eyes when I closed them.

  Vyachaslav’s eyes bored holes into my face.

  “You should tell her. I guarantee you, sir… she’ll find it relieving to know those people aren’t her family. And before you ask, no I’m not going to do it. I know you’re worried about your family right now. They’ll hate you for Ophelia existing. But they’re young and they haven’t experienced the hardships of a life after love has been ripped away. I doubt any of your kids even remember the years directly following their mother’s death.”

  “… I can see what Ophelia sees in yo
u, Sascha Matheson.” His rasp bounced around inside my office before Vyachaslav stood up to quietly leave the lecture hall.

  I cracked my eyes open, lifting my head.

  Malda came bounding up the stairs as she shot me a wild, quizzical look.

  I was too dazed from my conversation to say anything.

  I had about an hour to decide if I wanted to bring this up with Ophelia or wait and see what the old man did. Chances were, Vyachaslav was dying and suspected ‒ or even knew for sure ‒ and that was why he was doing what he was doing. Chances were even better that he wasn’t dying, and he created this whole bullshit scenario simply because he couldn’t bring himself to say the words.

  Vyachaslav was letting his emotions cloud his rationale when he felt threatened. Like father, like son.

  23

  Ophelia

  “Malda— what are you doing here?”

  She smiled broadly at me.

  I shuffled to the side, gesturing her in with a sweep of my arm. “I’m just about to eat. I’ve been neck deep in paperwork and computer screens all morning.”

  “Find anything interesting that I should know about?” she asked.

  Pursing my lips thinly, my brows furrowed while I shut the door behind her. What had I learned so far, sifting through a lifetime of bitterness and bad business models? Just that my dad hated Martin more than he was willing to verbally admit ‒ Martin wasn’t going to run away with his pregnant girlfriend. He was going to run from her… which wasn’t out of character for him. “My dad’s girlfriend was emailing him asking to meet her. I called her and she said she’ll be here in… about 20 minutes.” All the legal stuff I hadn’t thought about was rushing at me, and I fought a shiver of disgust. My dad was married with kids; whatever legal leg this lady thought she had to stand on wasn’t as strong as she thought it was.

  Quietly, Malda and I walked to the kitchen. I popped open the refrigerator with a heavy sigh. “She seems to think I’ll honor whatever she wants because my dad was ‘in love’ with her. I have all their emails and stuff. And he did promise her some stuff… like, he’d keep paying for her apartment, and they did briefly talk about what would happen when he died. I hope she doesn’t get all crazy, but I’m not sure how to deal with it. I was thinking of just giving her a lump sum of her estimated living costs for 20 years.”