The Code To A Don's Heart

t w e n t y - o n e

"Where have you been?" Markov asked, his Russian accent as thick as mine when I got angry.

"Where do you think? Hunting down our hacker," I stated slowly. I was all too aware of Peach's hand on my chest, playing nervously with the first closed button just below my pectorals. Her actions were distracting.

"And how has it gone? Is she dead? The little suka threatened our Bratva!" he snapped.

My jaw tightened and I resisted the urge to tell my uncle not to refer to Peach as a bitch but we were here on a mission.

"Yes, she's dead," I confirmed, rubbing my thumb on Peach's skin, hoping to reassure her incase her mind wondered to the time when her death had been a sole purpose.

"Khoroshiye," Markov nodded happily. "I already ordered us food."

My uncle might have been a pain in the zad but he knew this restaurant and he knew me enough to know I'd like to try something new whenever I came here.

"Tell me Markov," I begun, taking a drag from my cigar and handing it to Peach just to take her attention off my button. "Have you encountered a hacker like the one that attacked headquarters."

"No," he said and rubbed a hand over his balding blonde hair. "She was a problem but you have controlled her. That is good. You've done well for a Don, Viktor."

"I don't need your praise uncle. I'm aware," I stated cockily but on the inside, my chest swelled at the fact that I was doing something right.

Then I remembered why I was here. Markov might be trying to kill me.

My uncle was too busy chuckling. "Your father would've given the same answer. Cocky bastards the both of you are."

"Like father like son. I've heard the saying," I deadpanned, not wishing to talk of my predecessor.

Markov grunted. "Nickolai saw something in you boy. Why do you think he left you the Bratva?"

My teeth grounded on each other. "He didn't leave me the Bratva Markov!" I snapped. "He died with Slavik, leaving me as the only option."

Sensing my distress, Peach put a hand over my muscled stomach and rubbed up and down rhythmically. I glanced down at her and she gave me a soft look that said 'keep your shit together. I know this hurts but don't mess up'. Or at least that's what I got from her.

When I caught my uncle's eye again, he watched Peach with the same distaste he had given every other woman I came to these meetings with. The difference was those women were used to drown my problems. Lust was a better emotion to feel than uncertainty and grief. Peach was different. I didn't want him looking at her like she was nothing but an open circuit ready to be plugged but I couldn't say anything for the sake of the mission. Peach calmed me still, her rubbing growing slower and applying more pressure to keep me distracted. My blood rushed to an area it was not needed and I tried to keep my emotions under control.

My uncle sighed with disgust but continued what he wanted to tell me. "Slavik was never going to inherit the Bratva."

"What do you mean?" I asked my uncle. His words made no sense. "Slavik was the eldest. He had the most potential. He often trained with father. Wherever he went, Slavik followed. Deals, trades, meetings and even the mafia convention where it was strictly Don, Dona and consigliere but even the latter were rare."

Markov sighed. "I promised not to tell your father this but its best you hear it from me. Your father was handing the Bratva to you. Not Slavik. Your brother was too uncontrolled to be a good Don. All he ever wanted was war with other groups. Ultimate control over all drug trades and cartels in the world."