Owned By the Boss by Noah Maddix
The Petrovas
Dinners at the Petrova household were always an intense affair.
There wasn’t a person involved who wouldn’t skip them altogether if they had the choice. Even though it was the beginning of the summer, the day was frigid, which meant in all corners of St. Petersburg, the different attendees of the dinner were trying to decide if they were going to wear clothes warm enough to protect them from the elements, or clothes loose enough to protect them when they inevitably started to sweat.
“You are going to hate your life in about an hour,” Katya said. She was the Petrova heiress in existence alone. She hated these dinners more than any of the other invitees because no one took her seriously. She was a body in a room, much to her chagrin.
Sascha frowned, looking over his coat with a fur-lined hood. “You know he’s going to make us sit in the garden. Your arms and legs are showing. I’ll actually be warm. No trying to steal my jacket when you’re freezing.”
Sascha Petrova was Katya’s older brother, destined to take on the role of Pakhan one day whenever his father felt like loosening the reins.
Katya tilted her head to the side, her wavy, light brown hair falling to the side of her face, briefly revealing both her blue eyes, one of which was almost always hidden by her bangs. “You’d give it to me if I asked for it.”
Tossing his head back to laugh, Sascha nodded. “Right you are, Pantera.”
Sascha lovingly referred to his younger sister as a black panther for her ruthless nature and mastery of stealth. Ever since she was a little girl, she could sneak up on him without the tiniest sound and pounce before he even knew she was there. As she got older, her skills became useful, because she could sneak in and out of the most convenient places without leaving more than a ghost’s evidence behind. Sascha understood her usefulness in their world.
It was their father that was the hard sell.
“Is it just family today?” Katya asked.
“I’m sure dad invited Maks,” Sascha replied. “But it should just be the five of us.”
Katya sighed. “I figured as much; I was just hoping maybe not.”
There was a notable furrow to Sascha’s brow as he asked, “What’s wrong? You like Maks.”
“Of course I do. He’s been your best friend since we were in grade school, but I know that if dad could swap me for him, he would. It’s hard having a second person at the table that our father respects more than me.”
Though Sascha wanted to argue with his sister, he knew that he didn’t have much of a retort. Their father was old-school in every sense of the word, which meant he was still very unused to women being involved in the bratva in any official capacity. Despite the fact that many groups around them, some who’d risen to even more infamy, had involved women on a higher level, Vladimir still liked to do things the old, old, old way and keep Katya uninvolved as his daughter and as a woman. Sascha didn’t agree with the practice, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.
“You know our father loves and respects you,” Sascha said. “He just likes to handle business a certain way.”
“I’ve proven that I’m worthy of higher honor than he gives me,” Katya spat back. “There’s not a task he’s given me that I haven’t taken head on. I’ve gotten him information on every single rival in St. Petersburg and have successfully infiltrated the city administration twice. Maks was born with an extra appendage.”
“Maksim is an incredibly strong and intelligent man. Father has every right to admire him, we all do.” He walked over to where Katya was sitting on his couch and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I promise you, you’ll work your way into his good graces soon. Continue to attend his dinners, do as he asks, and he will see your value one day. Just like the rest of us have seen.”
Katya was appreciative of her brother’s attempts to make her feel better. Though she didn’t quite agree that their father was ever going to come around to see her value, it felt nice knowing at least one of them saw her as an asset. One day, god willing, Sascha would take on their father’s role as the Pakhan and then Katya would actually get the respect she was due.
It was the waiting that was problematic—she wasn’t good at waiting.
Vladimir Petrova’s estate was an overly dramatic white marble and stone castle intentionally designed to rival the ancient Russian architecture of noteworthy places like the world-renowned Church of the Savior and the Grand Peterhof. Despite its location on the outskirts of the city, so many tourists visited the estate thinking that they’d happened upon some historical landmark, that Vladimir employed tour guides to stand outside the white iron gate to lead them elsewhere when they showed up.
One of the guides was leading a group of them away as Sascha and Katya approached the front of the estate.
“Ooh, are they royalty?!” one woman yelped in broken Russian.
Katya immediately threw into character. “Oh. More tourists?” She immediately ticked her head off to the side, flicking her hair out of her eyes briefly. “I’m Grand Duchess Martina Guretta.”
Immediately, the crowd flew into a fit, taking pictures and clamoring around Katya to learn more about the fake grand duchess. Sascha just shook his head, but couldn’t help but be impressed at the sashay in Katya’s hips and flick of her hand out for people to shake as if she’d been doing it for years. When it came to espionage and assuming a persona, she was next to none. Her reflection on her skills from earlier was spot on. There wasn’t an organization she couldn’t infiltrate. She could sell fire in hell if she had to.
“Alright, your highness,” Sascha said, walking over and grabbing Katya’s arm. “We should go.”
“Oh! Who’s that?” someone called out, already taking a picture.
Katya looped her arm through Sascha’s. “This is my aide.” She was speaking in English, having picked up on a majority of the tourists’ first language. “He’s a bit stuffy.”
“Okay.” Sascha pulled Katya towards the gate, waving at the tourists. “Thank you! Enjoy your stay in St. Petersburg.”
There were more camera flashes as the siblings walked away. Sascha groaned, “Your aide?”
“Oh calm down,” Katya huffed. “You were lower on the totem pole than me for like thirty seconds. I’ve done it my whole life.”
Sascha frowned. “It’s not that…” They approached the guard standing in the box at the gate’s entrance and Sascha nodded at him. “Thank you, Giles.”
The guard didn’t need more than that to initiate the gate’s opening, causing the crowd behind them to ooh and ahh as Katya and Sascha passed through. The groan of the gate screeched against the whipping win and created a harmony of moans that were enough to drown Katya from everyone but Sascha as she said, “Time to face the boss.”
As expected, Katya and Sascha were barely inside the grand foyer of the castle before a butler stepped forward to usher them directly across the gold marble, under the multi-million dollar chandelier hanging from the apex of the room, and through the doors in the back that led out towards the gardens. In the midst of manicured hedges, colorful flower beds, and fountains spouting water in an endless trickle, was a long, white-clothed table. There were five settings at the table, each with a porcelain plate, sparkling silverware, an exquisitely folded napkin, and two crystal goblets, one with water, and one with wine. Katya had always compared it to something straight out of Alice in Wonderland. The only thing that was missing was the mad hatter.
Though Vladimir Petrova was pretty close.
“It’s so much work every single week for a few hours dinner that we’re all going to hate anyway,” Katya hissed. “It’s freezing out here. Why do we have to eat here?”
Sascha wrapped an arm around his sister’s shoulders and pulled her closer to him. “You know complaining isn’t going to get us anywhere. Smile and thank him for his grace. Every step forward is a step forward.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Katya moaned at her brother’s mantra.
One place setting was at the head of the table with the other four situated two on each side. Katya took her usual seat on the right side of the table, furthest from the head of the table. Sascha pulled out her seat and helped her down before walking around and sitting on the opposite side of the table, directly to the left of the head. A couple of baskets of bread were stacked in the center of the table around a crystal vase of flowers.
Katya reached forward to grab a slice, but Sascha quickly pulled the basket away. “You know he hates it when we start eating before he arrives.”
With a swift and practiced motion, Katya kicked one leg of the table. All of the flatware clattered, causing Sascha to jump, and she took advantage of the distraction to yank the basket from his hand. Not only did she take a slice of bread from the basket, but then she deliberately returned the basket to a spot slightly off kilter from its original spot in a way she knew her father would notice and too far away for Sascha to correct without getting up. He glared at her immaturity, but she lifted the piece of bread to her lips and took a huge bite with a smile on her face. The plain taste of the unbuttered slice was worth it to endure to show her brother that she really didn’t give a single, flying fuck what their father wanted.
Before the behavior could throw them into a disagreement, a butler came walking out into the garden with a tall man with blond, feathery hair swept back over his head perfectly. He had a wide, muscular frame and walked with his nose slightly higher in the air. His green eyes glistened in the setting sun, and when his eyes landed on Katya, a huge grin splashed across his face.
Sascha stood to greet the man, leading with his hand out. “Maksim.”
“Good evening, Sascha,” Maks greeted. “How are you?”
“As good as I ever am, brother,” Sascha responded, then motioned over to the table. “Come. Sit.”
Maks’ gaze immediately turned to Katya, his expression going warm and entrancing. He sat down in the chair across from her and nodded to her. “Katya. Thank you for gracing me with your beauty this evening.” He’d always had an affinity for the woman, and who wouldn’t? She was as stunning as the morning sun and twice as enrapturing.
“It’s good to see you, Maks,” she responded. “Sorry that my father has dragged you out yet again for another of these horrid meals.”
Lifting his glass to take a sip of the water, Maksim shook his head. “No, of course, it is my pleasure. I rather enjoy them.”
“That can’t possibly be true,” Sascha said with a laugh.
“What’s not to like? I get to see my best friend, spend time with his parents who have always cared for me like one of their own.” His gaze came back to focus on Katya. “I get to sit in a light more luminescent than all the stars in the sky.”
Katya forced a smile for the compliment. “Well, I think you’re just flattering me, but thank you.”
She eyed Sascha, but he just had a smirk on his face. Katya had never been a romantic. She’d had her fair share of partners, and had tried dating more seriously, but she always came up empty-handed. Sure, there were men like Maksim who were conventionally handsome and would worship the ground she walked on if she let him, but he didn’t excite her in the slightest. In fact, none of the men that she’d ever been with in Russia had given her that hazy-brained, toe-curling experience that she read about in books or saw on television. Honestly, she believed it just wasn’t true. Maksim could turn a compliment better than a romance novelist, but behind him was an empty ornament hanging happily and purposely from her father’s tree. What was there for her with a man like him but a vapid relationship built on fake smiles and purchased, artificial joy? If she was going to dedicate her life to someone else, it wasn’t going to be for a cardboard cutout of the ideal Russian man. She wanted someone real.
“Please stand for Mr. and Mrs. Petrova.”
A butler had approached the table in the awkward air of the interaction between Katya and Maksim and was standing at the end of the table. There was a little sweat on his brow, as there typically was when Vladimir joined the party. Sascha, Maksim, and Katya all rose from their seats, and the butler turned and stood to the side, keeping his head very low.
Enter Vladimir and Annika Petrova.
Annika was the ideal of Russian beauty. She had long, dark brown hair that flowed down her back in loose waves and high cheekbones. She’d fought her way back to a stick-skinny frame even in the wake of two children, and her face was jeweled by the same crystal blue eyes she’d given both her son and her daughter. Her full lips were sewn into a perfect smile—not so large that she seemed overjoyed, but big enough to look content. In spite of the cold, she was wearing a sleeveless golden flute dress that dragged along the garden ground as her husband led her to her seat next to Katya. Her wardrobe was the main reason Katya dressed in the short, cocktail dress she had on—solidarity.
She turned and smiled at her daughter, pressing her face forward, and Katya met the embrace, setting her cheek against her mother’s with a gentle kiss before switching to the other. “Good evening, Katya.”
“Hello mother,” Katya said.
Reaching across the table for her son, Annika took Sascha’s hands, and he leaned all the way forward to set a soft kiss on her knuckles. “Mother, you are looking radiant as always.”
This seemed to pump some pride into the woman. “Thank you. Your father got me this dress. His taste is as good as ever.” She dropped Sascha’s hands and turned a friendly smile to Maks. “Hello again, Maksim. It’s always good to see you.”
He nodded his head obediently. “Thank you for welcoming me into your home. I always feel like family here.”
“That’s because you are,” she responded.
Vladimir pulled out her chair and she stood in front of it, but didn’t yet sit down. Such a thing would be criminal before the lord.
Taking his time to do so, Vladimir left his wife’s side to walk around to the head of the table. Unlike the weather-inappropriate attire he’d forced his wife to wear, Vladimir was wearing a full suit with a matching peacoat. His long, gray hair hung all the way down to the middle of his back, and a set of thin-rimmed glasses sat right at the base of his long, pointed nose. His eyes were dark brown, but in the right light they almost looked black, which was his preference—much more imposing. Though he left his slender form mostly unadorned by any gaudy accessories, his fingers were encircled by several rings with jewels of every kind. They communicated wealth and power, the two things focused in the center of Vladimir’s mind at all times.
“Sit,” he said his deep, bass-filled voice, and his family responded, each lowering into their seats slightly after he dropped down into his. “Bring us food,” he demanded of the butler, who quickly nodded his head and scuttled away.
“Father,” Sascha greeted. “It’s good to see you.” He only received a curt head nod in response. Vladimir was a man of few words. Whether it was because he didn’t like to mince or because he thought it frivolous to waste breath on the menial, he never said more than he had to. “I finished the shipments this morning, though I still think there may have been an error with the Costellos’ order.”
“I don’t make errors,” Vladimir replied simply. “The Costellos’ deal is for twenty-five million dollars.”
Both Katya and Maksim leaned forward in their seats. Katya opened her mouth to ask, but then hesitated and tossed a glance to Maksim. In a brief moment of synchronization between the two, Maksim got the gist of her query and asked on her behalf.
“Twenty-five million dollars,” Maksim said. “That’s several times larger than they typically receive, is it not?”
Vladimir lifted his wine goblet, balancing the stem between his middle and ring fingers and curling his jewel-encrusted appendages around it like a luxury display. “Yes. There are arms, but mostly drugs. When they heard of Asylum, they were very interested.”
Asylum was the latest drug to start circulating around Russia—a Petrova original. It dulled pain receptors while boosting endorphins and promoting adrenaline. Someone could get shot and still ride the high for hours, only realizing they were hurt when they bled to death. Russian police had been digging up the very cobblestones in St. Petersburg looking for the source, but thanks to Katya’s cunning and Sascha’s charisma and influence, the distribution of the drug was never linked back to their family.
“I apologize for second-guessing you,” Sascha said.
The blood-red liquid in Vladimir’s glass sloshed around as he rotated it slowly. “See to it that it doesn’t happen again.” He took a long sip of it before continuing. “We will disembark for America the day after tomorrow ahead of the shipment.”
Maksim furrowed his brow. “You’re overseeing this deal personally?”
“Such a large order requires the boss’ hand,” Sascha answered for his father. “I’ll be honored to accompany you, father.”
“I’d like to go.” All eyes shifted towards Katya as she made her request.
Studying her with the same ambivalence he always gave his daughter, he simply said, “You will not go.”
Katya slammed a hand against the table, rattling the dishes. “I’ve helped you disseminate Asylum here. I’ve been in the field working for you with this product specifically.” She could see her father bristling at her forceful tone, so she dialed it back. “I’m sorry, I just want to prove to you that I can take on more responsibility in our family. I’ve never been to America, yet I learned English exactly as you told me to. Please. I just want the chance to prove myself.”
“Father, if I may,” Sascha interjected. “Katya was telling me earlier how proud she is of you. The empire you’ve built is one we both only want to see continue to grow. We want to make you proud as well. I’ll look after her personally. I think a trip to America could be good for her.”
Frustratingly, it was only in the wake of Sascha’s follow-up that Vladimir actually seemed to be considering it. He stared down into his wine as if it was feeding him the answers, then he finally looked up and locked eyes with his daughter. “I will allow you to go. Follow your brother’s orders and do not disappoint me.”
Katya’s heart beat a little faster at her father’s approval. She nodded her head and sank back in her chair. “Thank you, father. I will honor you, I swear it.”
It was clear that Vladimir was already mentally moving on from the circumstance, but Katya couldn’t stop a smile from rising to her face. She glanced up and both Sascha and Maksim were beaming back at her with the same pride she wished she could attain from her father. Maybe this would finally be her chance to do it. If he could be proud of Sascha and Maksim, he could be proud of her too. She’d prove that in America.
A full, five-course meal was ushered in front of them as the four Petrovas and Maksim ate in relative silence. Sascha made the largest attempt to fill the table with conversation, and his mother, who shared his natural charm, did her best to joust with him. But all the topics eventually were lobbed to Vladimir, who shut them down with a one-word answer and returned the table to silence yet again. It wasn’t until after the vessels from the flan dessert had been carried away that Vladimir spoke more than a few words at all.
“Annika,” he called. “Can you please accompany Sascha and Katya to the front. I want to hear about Maksim’s mother.”
“Of course,” she said, standing immediately. “Come along, children.”
Sascha didn’t seem at all bothered by the strange request from Vladimir, but it gave Katya pause. She watched her father for a moment, but quickly jumped to attention when he tossed her a scathing leer. It was threatening in its silence.
Mind your own business, or I will make you.
Standing up from the table then, Katya looped into one of her mother’s arms, and Sascha into the other, and they all floated off without so much as looking back at Vladimir and Maksim remaining at the table.
The smile that he’d kept on for Katya’s sake faded from Maksim’s face once she was gone. It was so exhausting putting on airs for her. He wished she would just come around to it and marry him already, then there would be no need for all the falsities.
“How is your mother?” Vladimir asked.
“Still sick, but still alive,” Maksim responded.
He’d met Sascha when they were in primary school, right around the time that his mother was diagnosed with a degenerative illness. His father worked himself into an early grave trying to care for his son and his sick wife, but Vladimir was there to pick up the pieces when Maksim felt like he was falling apart. He offered Maksim his daughter’s hand, a seat at his table, and a role in his empire. A life that would have been otherwise wasted was held aloft by the steel fox of Russia, and Maksim would forever be grateful.
A bottle of wine that had been brought to the table only had enough contents left for Vladimir to pour into his own glass, but Maksim didn’t mind. It was always best dealing with Vlad sober. “Do not forget to send me her bills for this month. I’ll take care of them.” The older man reminded him.
“Thank you,” Maksim said. “I am truly honored by your grace.”
“You were right,” he said. “Katya requested to go to America.”
“I knew she would,” Maksim responded. “She’s been chomping at the bit for an opportunity to prove herself, and I knew Sascha would support the decision to bring her along.”
Vladimir hummed as he took a sip of his wine. “You know my children better than I do.”
“Perhaps, but it’s better. This way you don’t have to waste your time memorizing their quirks. I’ve already done that,” Maksim replied. “Do you have a task for me while you’re overseas?”
“There is a slight possibility of retaliation, so please work to fortify the castle for some time. Spread word in the media so tourists don’t linger. The last thing I need is some teenager on holiday dying at my gates because they think my home is a church.” There was thick disgust in Vladimir’s voice. “And continue to circulate Asylum. Use the inroads Katya has laid to pipe it into the government. I want them addicted to something only we can supply them.”
“Yes sir,” Maksim said. “Though, may I ask, why do you fear retaliation? Your relationship with the Costellos has been solid for over ten years. Do you think they’ll turn on you now?”
Evil curled into a grin between Vladimir’s cheeks. “I’ve finally made my move.”
Maksim lifted an eyebrow. “Do you mean…?”
“Yes,” Vladimir said. “I’ve sold this shipment to both the Costellos as well as their rivals, the Bonettis. The Costellos have prepaid and I’ll be collecting the Bonettis’ payment while we’re in America. I’ll communicate with you when the payment has been made. You’ll need to ensure a bulk of the money is moved to my secured accounts, away from the eyes of my wife and children.”
“Does Sascha know?” Maksim asked.
“No.” Vladimir drank down the last of his wine. “I have my reasons for keeping him in the dark. Besides, I’m aware of the fact that he’s sharing most everything I tell him with his sister, and I needed these words to hit as few ears as possible. A few men on the New York side know as well, in order to help me arrange the Bonettis’ pickup as a raid. They believe I’m under the Costellos thumb and that this is the only way to safely obtain the shipment. Of course, the Costellos will see this and believe it’s an attack by their rivals, not a coup by me.”
“What if a war erupts?” Maksim asked.
Vladimir just laughed. “The Costellos’ arrogant underboss never comes prepared. It’s always just him and maybe an extra hand or two. I spent the last few years developing his confidence in the transfer process so that he believes no more than a couple sets of hands are needed. The Bonettis know to come fully supplied. I’ve been laying this groundwork for many months. It’s a fail-proof plan, so long as my son and daughter fall in line as they’re supposed to.”
Maksim thought briefly of Katya getting swept up into something and getting hurt, or worse, killed. “Please allow me to come as well.”
“No. You must stay here and handle things on this end. Taking you with us would leave my throne too unarmed for my comfort. If any of our enemies heard that me, you, and Sascha were away on the other side of the world, they wouldn’t hesitate to attack. I need you to stand watch.”
The thought of it made Maksim uneasy. He firmly believed in everything Vladimir did, and the man was known for thinking ten, fifteen, twenty steps ahead of everyone else. His relationship with the Costellos was a decade long, but ever since day one, the plan had been to work them into a false sense of security so that he could pull one over on them without issue. If things went the way he laid out, not only would he maintain his relationship with the Costellos, but he would double his money on the biggest international deal he’d ever done. Maksim wanted to trust that the plan was as flawless as Maksim believed it was.
But why did he need Katya in America for it?
“Is Katya meant as a distraction?” Maksim asked.
“Fear not,” Vladimir responded. “I don’t intend to take back my offer of her hand to you. She’s one of the spoils of your years of endless dedication to me and I’m a man of my word. The girl is there as a distraction for her brother. Sascha cannot learn of my true intentions. He’s good like his mother, and I fear he’ll interfere and not in a good way. His participation was necessary to not tip the Costellos off that this is anything other than a typical exchange, but if he were aware of the double sale, he’d try to put a stop to it.”
Maksim knew that was true. “Sascha doesn’t like doing dirty business.”
Vladimir smiled across at Maksim. “Fortunately, you have no problem with that.”
“No, I do not.”
Though Vladimir was already happily molding Sascha to take on his throne one day, he didn’t helm the total control over the boy that he wished he did. In all areas where Sascha would turn his nose up at his father, Vladimir turned to Maksim. He was a man unafraid to get his hands dirty, and mainly because he’d do anything to continue having his mother’s medical bills paid and one day be able to share a bed with Vladimir’s daughter. Thank god she was a work of art, just like her mother. It made her much easier to leverage.
“This deal is at the precipice of everything changing for us, Maks. With Russia and America high on our drug, and two of New York’s biggest families eating out of the palms of our hands, we’re closer than ever to truly taking over this world. We’re going to do what no one before us has done before and sit in the chair at the top of the world. You’re not afraid of it, are you?”
“On the contrary,” Maksim replied. “I’m more excited than I’ve ever been.”
“Once this is all done, I will push my daughter to marry you, and then you’ll have your rightful claim to my seat,” Vladimir explained. “Of course, Sascha will be the face of my empire, but you’ll have the real power. You’ll have control. Between us, there isn’t a power in this world that won’t bend to our will.”
Maksim smiled at Vladimir, seeing the world burn in his eyes and feeling glad that he was standing safely behind Vladimir’s fireproof glass.
Annika returned from walking her children out, moving to stand behind her husband and rest a hand on his shoulder. “The children are off,” she said sweetly. “How’s your mother, Maksim?”
He locked eyes with Vladimir, who nodded approvingly.
Maksim gave Annika a friendly smile. “Suddenly, she’s doing better than ever.”