Nadia stood in front of her closet, choosing her outfit as if she were a general preparing for battle.
Not the red dress. Its too early for that.
She picked a black sheath dress. This was the kind of dress a woman wore to a board meeting when she wanted to be taken seriously. She examined the dress properly, after being satisfied, she laid it on the bed.
She wore small diamond studs passed down from her grandmother, one of the few things her parents hadn't sold before they had sold her. Then she put on a simple watch to complement the earrings.
She zipped the dress, smoothed the fabric, and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was pulled back into a low chignon, exposing her neck and jaw, and applied nude lipstick to complete her look.
She grabbed her purse and checked the contents: phone, lipstick, some documents, and a small folding knife she had carried since her second yesr of marriage. The knife had never protected her from Ivan, he was too strong and fast but still it made her feel less helpless.
Her phone beeped. It was Anatoly.
"Car is ready, Mrs. Petrova"
She took one last look in the mirror, lifted her chin and walked out.
Nadia had been to the Bratva headquarters hundreds of times during Ivan's rule, always trailing behind him and silent. Today, for the first time she entered the building alone.
The guards at the door recognized her, and nodded respectfully. She nodded back and walked towards the elevator. The elevator ride to the top floor felt longer than it should have. Her heart was racing but she focused on her breathing to calm herself.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened.
Viktor stood in the hallway, looking at her with smile.
"Mrs. Petrova."
"Viktor."
"The Pakhan is expecting you."
The Pakhan. Nice!!
"Thank you for arranging the meeting."
"You're the one who demanded it."
"I requested a conversation. The word demand has negative connotations."
"You communicated that you 'required' his presence. That's a demand in my vocabulary."
"Then we have different vocabularies."
They stared at each other. She knew Viktor was dangerous who was loyal to power, not people. He had served Ivan for fifteen years and switched to Damen the moment the coup succeeded. He'd switch again if a better option appeared.
"He is waiting for you." Viktor said, gesturing down the hall. "Last door."
"I know where it is."
"Of course you do."
She walked past him, feeling his gaze on her back. She reached the door, she noticed the nameplate had already been changed:
DAMEN VOLKOV, PAKHAN.
She knocked twice.
"Come in."
She opened the door and stepped inside. The room had changed. Ivan preferred decor that screamed 'look how powerful I am' to anyone who entered. Damen had removed it. His decor style was minimal but classy and expensive.
As soon as she entered inside, he stood up. Nadia stopped, genuinely surprised. Ivan had never stood up when she entered a room. He barely acknowledged her presence unless he wanted a drink refilled, a social function attended, or a body to use.
Damen buttoned his suit jacket and gestured to the chair in front of his desk.
"Mrs. Petrova. Please, sit."
She didn't sit on the chair. Instead, she walked around it towards the desk, and sat on its edge. She crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap, then looked at his face to watch his reaction.
His jaw tightened slightly. She saw surprise, annoyance, and interest flicker on his face.
Good.
"Mrs. Petrova." He said again. "The chair is more comfortable."
"I prefer the desk."
Silence. He was deciding how to respond, whether to assert dominance by ordering her to move or to allow the power play and see where it led. He chose the latter.
"As you wish." He sat down and leaned back in his chair, studying her.
She studied him back. Up close, Damen was even more handsome than he had been at the funeral.
"You wanted to meet me?"
"I did."
"Why?"
"Because we need to talk about the future."
"Whose future? Yours or mine?"
"Both."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Interesting. Most widows in your position would request protection, security or maybe a pension."
"I'm not like most widows."
"Of course. You're not."
There was silence again. But it wasn't uncomfortable. It was just two predators deciding if the other was prey or rival.
"I know where Ivan's offshore accounts are." Nadia said, breaking the silence.
"I already have people working on that." Damen replied casually.
"They won't find them. Ivan was paranoid. The accounts are under shell companies in three different countries. The passwords change monthly and the access codes are biometric."
"And how do you have this information?"
"Because I manged them."
He raised his eyebrows slightly.
"Ivan let you handle his finances?"
"Ivan didn't let me do anything. He didn't even know I was managing them." She uncrossed her legs, and crossed them in the other direction.
She noticed his eyes flicker down, then back up.
"Ivan was a brilliant tactician but he was terrible with money. Six years ago, he almost bankrupted himself with bad investments. I quietly fixed it without letting him know."
"Why did you help him? I mean… everyone knows you were not exactly on good terms."
"I wasn't helping him. I was ensuring my own survival. I'd rather be married to a wealthy than a peniless man. At least wealth offered options."
"What kind of options?"
"The ones I'm presenting to you now."
"Which are?"
She slid off the desk, stood up, and smoothed her dress. Then she walked towards the window, creating distance between them.
"I have information about Ivan's offshore accounts, about 40 million USD, give or take. His hidden alliances with other countries' mafias, and the blackmail files he kept on every captain in this organization."
Damen shifted in his chair.
"Blackmail files?"
"Photographs, audio recordings and financial records. Ivan was also paranoid about loyalty." She turned back to face him.
"Including you."