Chapter 42.

                                    

                                          
Third Person POV.
***Sokolov Mansion, Russia.***
Anton stands in his office, dragging a lungful of smoke and darting his eyes around the city landscape.
From the set of his jaw and the crinkling of the corners of his eyes, it’s glaringly obvious that he’s angry. Nothing is literally making sense to him now.
Everything they’ve done to get the girl is worthless. Lots of money has been spent yet nothing came up.
He struts back to his table and empty the remaining Vodka into his glass, he picks it up and pads to the floor-length glass windows.
Anton manages a sip, allowing the beige liquid to burn a trail down his throat. If he had known that Peter would mess this up from the beginning, he or Andrei would have married Helen, Vera’s mother, themselves.
He literally blames himself because Alexei had suggested that years ago when Vera’s mother was still in college but Anton disagreed because the mafia Godfather, the Pakhan would know the reason they wanted to marry his daughter was for power. Wealth.
It’s obviously why all mafia men scattered around the world wanted to marry Helen then. So they could gain power.
So, in order to avoid the man knowing this, the twin brothers used Peter, a normal civilian in America who lost his bet at their Casino.
Peter sold his rights and life to them.
But now, Anton knows that he messed up. Peter doesn’t know how mafia shits go, he only wanted to gain freedom by doing their bidding. He married Helen and they had Vera. But along the line, Peter left some breadcrumbs that allowed Helen to find out the actual truth.
“Dammit!” Anton hollers a curse under his breath at the float of memories.
Damn, things should have worked out. If it did…the Red Kings wouldn’t be attacking their shipping the way they do.
Just last week they lost a ship full of weapons….literally the Red Kings sank their ship as it passed through their acclaimed territorial waters.
It caused a fierce battle between them and the Red Kings. Hell, Alexei almost died during the gunfire.
Anton seethes, grinding his teeth together. If they had Vera in their clutches as their wife, these territories would have been theirs automatically. They would have been the ones stating the actual places other mafia bosses would claim. But Vera isn’t theirs yet. Nor will she ever.
Just remembering the gunfire battle of last week ignites a flame within him. The Red Kings are also out looking for the Vera but everyone has the knowledge she’s dead that’s the reason they’re fighting for possession.
The shipping they lost last week cost them almost twenty billion dollars. Now their weapon factory is in shortage of supplies to give.
Anton shakes his head. A bite of his lips before he downs the rest of the liquor, belching as it scorches his throat.
He lights another cigarette, taking a drag when the door flutters open. The female heels clicking against the floorboards already make him know it’s Calina.
Calina is one of their toys. Anton and Alexei are ruthlessly handsome that women drool over them. They go haywire just to be called the Sokolov twins fucktoy.
Of course, it’s no new thing that mafia men don’t love. They just break women under them.
Calina sighs as she halts behind him. She contemplates holding him or…just retracting her hands to her side but…scratch that.
She wants to touch him, so she puts fear aside.
Calina sneaks her hands around Anton’s waist. His broad shoulders and tall frame blocking Calina's view of the cityscape.