Protective

Product

Yeremy

Millions of dollars. I had made millions of dollars in just six weeks and somehow I found myself enjoying none of it.

"Boss?" my driver called from the front, "We're two minutes out."

I nodded, returning my lazy gaze to the window as I watched the snow fall.

I had a driver now, and people that called me 'boss' and 'sir.'

It felt so weird, I was only eighteen years old and more than half of these men were grown adults. Grown adults and they were taking orders from a teenager.

I could just about buy anything, too. I had bought a new car, and one of those private jets that Mikhail loves so much. I figured, if I ever needed to travel to Colombia or Brazil, a jet would come in handy.

I didn't even let myself think that that same jet could take me to see her and God did I want to see her.

But I never let myself feel that way for too long. I made the right decision when I sent her back. I knew that.

I was moving on, I was working and I was making millions of dollars by the day.

So I decided to build myself a house, one with little passageways I'm sure the Petrov family would appreciate.

"We're here."

I stepped out of the car and made my way into the building where I'd be meeting with Otávio Souza. He was my Brazilian supplier and before him, there was his father Marcos. That was the man I knew, the man my father did business with.

I didn't truly know what to expect from his son.

"Christo, you're young," he said as soon as he laid eyes on me.

Exactly, I thought. He had been the first person to bring it up I was starting to think that I looked old.

Although, that was out of respect. Was Otávio disrespecting me? Or was he making a joke?

It wasn't like he was so old either, he was like twenty-five or something.

He held out his hand and I shook it, still not sure what to make of him.

"Nice to meet you, Otávio. I remember your father fondly, my condolences."

He smiled, "Yes and the same for yours. Stefan was wronged, glad to see you could right that."

I gestured for him to sit, "It wasn't easy, but I had help."

"Right, Mikhail Petrov. The Bratva," he nodded, knowingly, "So what did you want to discuss in this meeting?"

"I need more product," I started, "I'm moving thousands of kilos all over Russia more quickly than my predecessors."

Otávio laughed, "Yes, well fear does that."

"Fear?"

"Your men," he smiled, "After what you did to 'your predecessors' they are moving their product faster because they are afraid of you."

"Oh," I shook my head, "I just thought Jacokbetti was lazy."

"He was," he said immediately, "Much more interested in the money than actually doing what needed to be done to make it," he raised an eyebrow, "You're not like that are you?"

"What?"

"I mean you must be like sixteen years old. You're still a babe," he shrugged, "This is a big responsibility and already you're asking me for more product."

"I'm eighteen," I corrected him, "And it's like you said, my men fear me so they're working faster," I shrugged, "That's just more money for you."

"As for age, that's irrelevant," I shrugged, "I looked around, out of all of the other organizations you supply product to. I am the only one tripling your profits and that's just in less than two months."

"Ah," he nodded with a smile, "Yes, this is true. You are tripling my profits which is why I want to make you my sole distributor."

What? Why would he want to do that?

I paused for a second. I couldn't just blurt out a why, that would just prove my immaturity to him. I didn't want him to think I couldn't handle this either.

"Is there something wrong with your other distributors?"

He sighed, "They're lazy, like 'your predecessors.' I need someone who appreciates the business side of this like you do. Its not just about making money it's making it efficient and effectively like you have."

"It may be fear, but I know you have installed new routes and locations for your men to follow and the local gangs that you sell to have also been having less trouble with the authorities," he smiled, "Your doing?"

"When you give a couple commissioners a few million dollars you'd be surprised how compliant they are when you ask them to turn the cheek," I explained.

"Exactó," he said, slamming his hand on the table, "You're perfect for the job."

"You should know that I also have business with the Colombians—"

He waved his hand, "That is a non-factor, Yeremy. You can continue your business with them and expand your business with me, but to do that you'll need to deal in larger territories."

I leaned back in my chair. This was exactly the kind of thing I had come back to do.

This is what I wanted for my fathers legacy, to expand and build and make it so untouchable it could never be taken again.

But where would I expand to? I had already pushed out most of the major players. I was the sole distributor in the major cities of Russia.

There was really only one answer.

I'd have to expand to the States. I already knew that Mikhail hadn't dealt with drugs in a long time. He had allowed my father to take over that side of his business because he was done with it.

Mikhail made the Bratva rich with assassinations, guns, extortion, but most importantly information. People paid him good money to find things out for them or even for his advice, which was infamous in this world.

"Alright," I nodded, "I'll take on your business on one condition."

"What's that?"

"If you give me all of it now, then it's mine forever. No using me as a stepping stone until you found someone for me to share the business with. The only exception to this is if I begin to underperform."

He smiled, mulling it over in his head before holding his hand out, "You've got a deal."

I shook his hand, "When can I expect the first shipment?"

"I've got it right now."

- - End of Chapter - -