Under Control: A Fake Marriage Mafia Romance
Under Control: Chapter 33

The sun rises over a boring Starbucks in a little nondescript town right off I-95, a straight shot south toward Baltimore from Philly.

The parking lot is filled with black SUVs: Bentleys, BMWs, Rolls-Royce. I doubt this many high-end cars ever parked in this place in its existence. I’m sure this much power has never descended on this little Starbucks and its quiet little employees living their normal fucking lives.

But if my last meeting with Aram repeats itself, I suspect I’m going to create a lasting memory for them. Assuming any of them survive.

“Let me surround the place,” Anton says, squinting at the front door. It looks quiet, all things considered. I spot Aram’s soldiers loitering nearby drinking coffees and staring in our direction.

“You know the agreement. Aram and I only.”

“It’s suicide. You walk in there, you’ll never walk out.”

“Then you cut Arsen’s head off and make sure you send it express delivery to his fucking father. Aram’s not stupid.”

Anton didn’t look convinced, but we’d already had this discussion. I push open the door and step out into the brisk morning air, aware that all eyes are locked on me at this moment.

I stride across the parking lot and into the cafe.

The smell of brewing espresso and the hiss of the machines distracts me. There’s a small line of tired-looking normal people waiting for their orders. A man in a suit’s sitting in the corner typing on a laptop.

And sitting among them is a monster.

Aram stands when I approach. He chose a table at the far side of the building and he’s sitting with his back to a wall.

“I wasn’t sure you’d show up,” he says.

He doesn’t offer to shake, and I don’t either.

“We have some things to discuss.”

I stare at the older man, taking his measure. He looks back, holding my gaze, and doesn’t flinch. I can admit a grudging respect for him, even if he represents everything I hate in this world. The old guard, a spiteful, selfish bastard, with a small mind and a pathetic crew.

“If you want to get something to drink, go ahead.” He gestures toward the baristas.

I ignore him and take my seat. He smiles like he won some kind of victory and lowers himself down with a grunt before spreading his hands.

“Why did you do it?” I ask him very softly.

His eyebrows raise. “Because it was a good move. My sister’s always been a nuisance.”

“Not Miriam.” I lean closer. “You know what I’m talking about.”

A sly smile comes across his face. “Ah, yes, I was wondering when we’d get to that.”

My father. He was a cold and distant bastard. I must’ve inherited that trait from him. But where my father enjoyed violence, I wield it like a tool. If it gets the job done, I don’t mind it.

But my old man reveled in blood and obedience.

We weren’t close, but he taught me everything I know and helped mold me into the man I am today.

And when Aram murdered him, I wasn’t upset.

Not for my father’s death. Without him to oppress me at every possible opportunity, I was able to turn the family around and help it thrive these last few years. Under my guidance, the Zaitsev Bratva has reclaimed its place as one of the most powerful criminal organizations on the East Coast.

That could never have happened under my father. He was too stubborn and small-minded.

But it was an insult to me and my family, and even though I’ll never miss my father, I will do anything I can to get revenge.

“Victor and I had a deal, something similar to the deal we were trying to put together.” Aram tells the story as if he’s relating ancient, unimportant history, like reciting a lesson to a child. “But your father was a brutal, thuggish bastard, and on the night he was betrothed to my sister, he broke her jaw. It was, allegedly, supposed to teach her who the man in the house would be.”

I stare at him, trying to process. “Your sister? I didn’t know about this.”

“It wasn’t widely announced. She was very much against it from the start and was making all kinds of noise, especially after he knocked her around. And what was I supposed to do after that? Let the man hit my own fucking sister? When the opportunity presented itself, I murdered him in cold blood and didn’t lose any sleep over it. Of course, after that, my sister was free to run away to Philadelphia.”

I sit back in my chair and stare. His lips curl in an amused smile as I start to put it all together.

This can’t be real. This can’t be happening. But Aram looks completely amused as he leans forward. His voice drops to barely more than a whisper.

“That’s right,” he says, showing teeth in a wolfish grin. “Your father was going to marry my little baby sister, Miriam. Except she was already dating someone, a secret boyfriend nobody even knew about at the time, and I’m guessing she told your father in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t going to end things. I’m guessing he didn’t like that. And I’m guessing that’s why he broke her jaw.”

“She didn’t mention any of this to me,” I say, struggling to maintain my composure.

“You’ll have to ask her why she kept that precious little secret. Shame, if I had to guess. Revulsion as well. You’re the son of a man that abused her.”

Everything clicks into place. The way Miriam seemed afraid of me. How she begged Karine not to marry me. It all makes sense, if she’s the one that was betrothed to my father back then.

I knew there would be a marriage component. Everyone knew that. Except the name of his future bride was never public, and I just assumed⁠—

Well, fucking shit.

“That’s why she left Baltimore,” I say, feeling sick.

“Miriam had always been very… willful.” Aram crossed his arms over his chest. “After the mess with your father, she decided that enough was enough and she ran off with her precious little boyfriend. It’s too bad that cancer rotted him out. I’d say I miss him, but fuck that guy.”

I level my gaze on Aram. It’s a struggle, but I get control of myself. I doubt Karine knows any of this, and I don’t know how she’ll react when I tell her.

I’ll deal with that when the time comes.

“You killed my father because he hurt your sister. Are you saying we’re even?”

“Not at all,” he says and barks a laugh at me. “This whole fake alliance you tried to manipulate me into? You’re clearly still holding a fucking grudge. You think I’m going to turn my back on you now?” He leans forward, jaw hardening. “Besides, you have my fucking son. And I want him back.”

Now we’re on to what matters. He told me that shit about Miriam to knock me off-balance—and he was smart enough to save that little revelation for a moment when it mattered. But I’m here to negotiate for her life, and he still desperately wants his kid back alive.

Our history is irrelevant. We’re fighting this war, here and now.

“A straight swap. Your son for my mother-in-law.”

Aram grunts, his smile fading away. “Why would I trust you to follow through? So far, you’ve been nothing but as duplicitous as your father was.”

I take out my phone. He flinches as I do it, like I’m about to draw on him and shoot him in the skull in front of all these witnesses.

Instead, I connect via video chat to Karine. “Hello, darling. Can you show me our guest?”

“He’s right here.” She turns the phone to face Arsen. I do the same for Aram.

Father and son stare at each other.

For the first time since coming here, Aram’s expression softens. Cracks in his exterior form. “Are you okay?” he asks quietly.

“I’m fine,” Arsen grunts. He’s clearly not okay; his face is swollen and puffy, and his nose is bloody and bent sideways. But he’s alive.

“I’m coming for you. Do you hear me, boy? I’m coming.”

“Well, there’s the first surprise of the day,” Arsen says.

My eyebrows raise, and Aram flinches. His jaw works and he leans closer to the phone. “Just keep your mouth shut,” he snarls.

I pull the screen away. “Karine?”

Arsen’s face disappears, replaced by my beautiful wife. “You okay?”

“All good. Thank you.”

“Happy to help.”

I cut the connection and shove it back into my pocket. Aram’s sitting back, brooding down at the table. I’m not sure what that moment was, but there’s clearly some tension between father and son.

“Your turn,” I tell him.

We go through a similar dance. Miriam’s face appears, still unconscious, still in a hospital bed. The man on the other end of the call says he’s a doctor, and he claims that he’s taking perfectly adequate care of Karine’s mother.

Aram cuts off the connection.

“She’s alive, and she’ll be fine. Don’t say I don’t take care of my own.”

“When do we make the swap?”

“Five days. We come here, same time.”

“We’ll draw a lot of attention.”

“Maybe you’ll fucking behave then.” Aram looks rattled as he stands. I get to my feet, facing him. “You know, there was a time when I thought Russian and Armenian interests might align. I had hoped we could find common cause and grow our organizations together. Instead, your father decided to throw it all away.”

I can’t even argue with that. If his story’s true, and I believe it, my father almost deserved what he got.

But that doesn’t change a damn thing.

“I’ll see you in five days.” I turn my back to him. “And don’t try anything. We’ll be prepared. If Miriam dies in the meantime, Arsen dies too.”

“If you hurt my son⁠—”

“Don’t pretend like you really care.” I walk away from him. I can tell that pissed him off, and that’s exactly what I wanted. I need Aram rattled and emotional and out of control.

I can’t react anymore—it’s time to take action.

Miriam is family. She never wanted to be and even ran away from home to make sure she’d never get tied down to my father, but I won’t abandon her.

I only have to hope that Karine understands that I’m not my father when she finds out the truth.