Chapter 467 - The Volkovs (1)
Gael received a text from Trigger, informing him that Angela had arrived at the restaurant. Another text popped up soon after about who else was in the private room with her.
He hissed, cursing under his breath, and was about to place a call when the door to his own private dining room opened. His head snapped to the side, and he saw someone he didn't want to see that day.
A large, imposing man wearing a custom-tailored suit glared as he took a seat across Gael. "What the hell is this, De Luca?"
"You…" was all Gael could utter as he matched the other's scowl.
The man scoffed, shaking his head. "I can't believe this. Is this what your family has been up to now? You're after us… I knew it. I told Pakhan years ago it would be a bad idea to get involved with your family. He just doesn't listen." The disdain in Ivanovich Volkov's face was apparent.
Gael took a deep breath, trying to school his expression. "Mr. Volkov… I'm going to stop you right there. My meeting with you today has nothing to do with my family's alliance with yours."
"It doesn't? You threatened Makarov yesterday and now me." Ivanovich Volkov laughed, his tone laced with ridicule. "You must be out of your damn mind if you think you can dip your toes in what's mine. Your intimidation won't work on me, boy. I chew younglings like you for snacks since way before you were born."
Most older men like him—like Makarov yesterday—felt intimidated if they faced someone younger than them who tried to show wit. They couldn't handle being outsmarted. Gael hadn't even laid out his cards yet, and Ivanovich had already made up his mind.
Keeping his face blank, Gael stared straight at the other and muttered, "No wonder your Pakhan doesn't trust you with the corporation."
That got Ivanovich's nerves; his face went red. He fisted his hands and leaned forward as if he was about to lunge across the table. "What the fuck did you just say?"
Seemingly unperturbed by the man's outburst, Gael leaned back on his chair and steepled his hands before him, his elbows resting on the armrest. "You're too close-minded. You don't listen. You haven't even heard a thing from me, and you already decided you'll hate me, even going as far as accusing me that I'm after your family. Tell me, what would I gain by doing that?"
He wasn't waiting for an answer, and he didn't allow Ivanovich to respond either when he only paused briefly and then added, "How'd you know I wasn't going to offer you something that would bring you up? Your Pakhan doesn't listen to you because you make rash decisions. If I were someone else, I'd have walked out that door and given my offer to someone else instead. And you would've lost your chance."
Ivanovich's expression softened, and his hands relaxed a little as he straightened his spine. He looked like he was ready to listen now that Gael had his attention.
Suppressing the gloating smile to show on his face, Gael briefly lowered his gaze to compose himself before he looked up again to meet the other's waiting face. "Now let's try this again… Mr. Volkov, how would you like to be the next Pakhan?"
Ivanovich Volkov stilled. Gael felt the fire in the pit of his stomach as he watched the older man falling hook, line, and sinker.
You see, to get someone like Volkov, you don't have to give them the whole world. All you have to do is push them in the right direction, and they would go running with their dicks in their hands, ready to kiss the ground they would walk on.
***
Angela's butt burned as she sat with Cynthia and her children at the same table. Her mother was at the head of the table; to her left was Aleksander, whom Angela learned was nine years younger than her, and next to him was Anika, who was born just ten months after Aleksander. Angela sat to Cynthia's right, across from her half-brother.
Angela barely touched her plate. Her mother tried to make small talks, serving food that she remembered was Angela's favorite when she was younger. Too bad Angela no longer cared for Salisbury steak. She couldn't remember the last time she ate them. If she was right, perhaps it was when her mother made it for lunch the same day she left. Angela didn't have the heart to tell her mother as it would only open wounds from the past.
She glanced at her siblings. Anika was fair-skinned and a little shorter than Angela. Her soft features were from Cynthia while her full lips were probably from Ivanovich. Angela could see their resemblance. It was strange to think they were related when she had only known about the other not too long ago. Anika smiled at her, and she returned a small one.
On the other hand, Aleksander had been glaring at Angela ever since the latter entered the room. It wasn't hard to say he didn't like her. He and Oliver had tiny similarities. Aleksander looked so much like his father, but he had their mother's eyes.
"Honey… You're not eating," Cynthia remarked.
Angela set her fork and knife down and shifted her stare at her mother. "Why am I here? What do you want?"
Cynthia—ugh…Evgenia. Angela wasn't used to thinking her mother had a different name. So she just thought of her as Cynthia.
Her mother attempted to reach out but thought better of it and kept her hands together instead. "I want us to start over. The last time we saw each other…we didn't really get to hear each other. I can't blame you, of course. But I… Ever since I saw you that day, I can't stop thinking about what I could do to make everything better. Furthermore, your siblings wanted to meet you."
"Not me," Aleksander quickly said.
"Alex!" Cynthia snapped at her son. The two fought in Russian, exchanging rounds of fire that only the three of them could understand.
Angela felt a prick in her chest. Before the last time she met her mother, she never knew Cynthia spoke in Russian—or that she was part Russian. This woman in front of her was a stranger—Cynthia didn't feel like the same woman Angela knew when she was eight years old.
"Forgive your brother." Cynthia turned to Angela, a small smile lifting her face. "He's refusing to understand the fact that I had a different life before he was born."
"Yeah, tell me about it," Angela mumbled under her breath that only she could hear.
"Are you still staying with him?" Her mother asked.
"You can't even say his name? His name is Gael. You should remember that." Angela's tone had a slight bite in it.
"Gael…" Anika gasped. "Gael De Luca? So that's why he looked familiar!" There was a faint blush on her cheeks.
Aleksander made a face that looked like he thoroughly judged what he had just heard. He scoffed. "She's sleeping with a De Luca." He muttered something in Russian, shaking his head. "What the hell has this family come to?"
Refusing to show that she was already halfway pissed, Angela folded her arms under her breasts and curled the corner of her lips—though her smile didn't reach her eyes. "You have a problem with that, little brother?"
He sneered. "Don't call me that. We're not related."
"You said it yourself. Family." She shrugged. "Honestly, I couldn't care less. I grew up not knowing any of you. I only had one brother, so I don't mind having only him at all. He and my father are my family. Of course, that's something you won't understand, right Mother?" Angela gave Cynthia a lazy stare.
If she was trying to feel unbothered earlier, she was failing now. What was the point of this meeting anyway? Clearly, she wasn't wanted here. Angela couldn't allow him to step on her as if she forced them to be here with them.. She couldn't wait to get out of there.