Russian Bastard

Prologue

bas • tard

adjective

born of parents not married to each other; illegitimate

"a bastard child"  

PrologueZeke

Father tossed three folders around the table, distributing them to each of the siblings gathered. Zeke picked his folder up and opened it to see a picture of a tall, beautiful woman with long, bronze golden-like hair, pale skin, and the most striking forest green eyes. He looked up the same time that Francesco did when Ivanov let out a low whistle.

"Ochen' krasivo," Ivanov said as he glanced at the picture once again. He had to agree with him, she was very beautiful.

"Why are you showing us this woman, batya?" Francesco asked, placing the folder back on the table, leaning back.

"We need weapons for the coming war, deti," Father said, addressing all of his children. "This woman can not only provide us with them, but she can provide vehicles, bombs, ammunition, almost anything," he continued, leaning back in his chair.

Francesco raised an eyebrow. "Who is she to be able to provide such luxuries?"

"Tatiana Belluchi."

It was Zeke's turn to raise an eyebrow. A beautiful name for a beautiful face. He was finally able to fix an image on the woman often gossiped about not only in the mafia and gang world but the royal world.

"Belluchi? Antonio Belluchi's daughter?" Francesco immediately asked accusingly. He obviously recognized the Italian mafia name.

Father took a glass of '75 Lafite wine, swirling the contents before taking a sip. He sighed. "She is one of his daughters," he said and Zeke glanced back at the picture of the beautiful woman.

"I thought he only had one daughter," Ivanov said, confused.

Zeke looked up from the picture. "She's a princess isn't she?" he asked, finally speaking after having kept silent.

"Yes Zeke, she is," Father confirmed, raising a glass to his pre-existing knowledge.

Ivanov and Francesco stared at them, confused. "Princess?" Ivanov voiced both their silent questions.

"Although Tatiana is Antonio Belluchi's daughter, she is no child of Rhea Davies," Father explained, glancing at him briefly before adding, "In fact, that is what is so special about her, the reason why she can provide us everything we need to arm us for the coming war," he said, referring to the war that might ensue for the land in California.

Francesco went over the file. "Her connections?" he asked.

"She is Agnieska Volkov's daughter."

Ivanov spat out the liquor he was drinking, coughing madly as Zeke snickered at the faces of his brother and father—sat directly in front of him—were hit by the spray. "A daughter of tetya? Holy s**t," Ivanov said, still coughing.

"So she is of Italian mafia and Russian royalty descendent." Francesco wiped down the vodka that now stained his Armani suit.

"Yes," Father said. "You know of the event in two weeks time yes? Use the time to learn about her, I have already arranged for an exchange during the party where they will deliver us with guns and ammunition and I have specifically asked that she be the one to supervise it." He wiped the last of the vodka from his face and, standing up, buttoned his suit jacket. "Whoever she marries will be the most powerful family in the world. Ponder on that in these two weeks. I expect to only hear good things from Agnieska when it is over and wedding bells by next month," he stated but to them, it sounded like an order, as he left the three of them in the room.

Zeke sighed as his brothers groaned. Since Francesco was their father's heir, he'll have to succeed in charming her if he wants to rule. Knowing Ivanov, he'll just try to sleep with her for the fun of it. And Zeke, he won’t even have a chance. Not when he was a bastard and was already arranged to be married to Verratti's eldest daughter.

But looking at the picture of the beautiful woman with emerald green eyes, he couldn’t help but hope. 

***

Translations:

Ochen' krasivo - very beautiful

Batya - father (informal term)

Deti - children

Tetya - aunt

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