The next week was a blur of strategy sessions and secret meetings.
I reached out to contacts my father had cultivated, people who owed Rossi International favors. I built a picture of Volkov's operations, his weaknesses, his vulnerabilities. I studied shipping manifests, financial records, and personnel files. By the end of the week, I knew more about the Volkov Syndicate than most of their own captains.
"He's overextended," I told Eric one night, spreading documents across the table. "He's been expanding too fast, taking on debt to fund his growth. His own people are restless; they haven't been paid in two months. There's talk of mutiny among his lieutenants."
Eric studied the documents, his expression thoughtful. "So we offer him a way out."
"Better. We offer him a partnership that looks like a way out but actually makes him dependent on us." I outlined my plan, a joint venture that would give Volkov access to the ports he wanted, but through channels we controlled completely. He'd think he was winning, but every shipment, every deal, would pass through our oversight. We'd know his routes, his contacts, his vulnerabilities. And over time, we'd own him.
Eric listened, asked questions, and refined the strategy. By the time we finished, even he looked impressed.
"You're wasted as a mafia wife," he said. "You should be running a Fortune 500 company."
"I'll settle for running you."
He laughed, pulling me close. "Deal."
The meeting with Volkov was set for neutral territory, a restaurant in Manhattan that catered to all the families. I dressed carefully, choosing a tailored suit that projected confidence without flash, and that still accommodated my growing bump. At ten weeks, I was barely showing, but I felt the life inside me with every heartbeat.
Eric wanted me to stay in the car, but I insisted on being in the room.
"He needs to see me as a player, not a prize," I argued. "If I'm not there, he'll assume I'm just window dressing. He'll think you're still hiding me, still protecting me. That makes me look weak."
"You're not weak."
"I know that. You know that. Volkov needs to know it too."
Reluctantly, Eric agreed.
Volkov was exactly as I'd imagined, big, brutal, with dead eyes that assessed me like merchandise. But when I laid out the proposal, those eyes flickered with interest.
"You're offering me access to the ports? After everything?"
"I'm offering you a business arrangement. You move your product through our channels, and we take a reasonable percentage. No more raids, no more kidnapping attempts. Just clean, legitimate, well, mostly legitimate, business."
Volkov studied me for a long moment. "And what do you get out of this?"
"I get peace. I get to raise my child without looking over my shoulder. I get to prove to the elders that I'm an asset, not a liability."
"Your child?" His eyes flickered to my stomach. "You're pregnant with Moretti's brat?"
"I'm pregnant with the Moretti heir. And if anything happens to this baby or me, there isn't a hole deep enough for you to hide in. Eric will burn your entire organization to the ground. But if we do this deal, you get everything you wanted without the war."
Volkov was silent for a long time. Then, slowly, he smiled. "You've got balls, little girl. I'll give you that."
"I prefer to think of it as common sense."
He laughed, a genuine laugh, surprised out of him. "Fine. I'll consider your proposal. But I want a face-to-face with Moretti alone. No lawyers, no seconds. Just us."
Eric tensed beside me, but I nodded. "Agreed. Tomorrow night, here, same time."
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