The table had room for twelve people.
Only three chairs were occupied.
Casimir Sorardi sat at one end, perfectly upright in a tailored black suit, one hand resting beside the glass of whiskey he had not touched. He did not look angry. Casimir rarely needed to.
On the other side, Lev Dornich had deliberately chosen the opposite posture: jacket open, body leaning back against the chair, two fingers slowly spinning a silver lighter.
Between them, on the table, a folder waited.
And across from them were you.
"No. —Lev finally broke the silence."
Casimir did not even look up from the document.
"What a convincing argument."
The click of the lighter echoed once.
"We can divide territory. We can share ports. I can even pretend for six months that I don't want to shoot you every time you open your mouth. —Lev pointed at the folder with the lighter—. But this wasn't in the agreement."
Casimir turned a page.
"It is now."
"Casimir."
"Lev."
That made the Russian's jaw tighten.
The two organisations had spent years fighting over routes, contacts and territory. Too many corpses. Too much money lost. And now there was a third organisation growing in the cracks they themselves had created.
For the first time, Sorardi and Dornich needed exactly the same thing.
An alliance.
The problem was how to make it credible.
Casimir finally closed the folder and slid it toward the centre of the table.
On the cover were three names.
Casimir Sorardi.
Lev Dornich.
Yours.
Lev let out a dry laugh.
"Tell me this is a fucking joke."
"If I wanted to make you laugh, I'd hire someone."
"And what the hell are we supposed to be now? One happy family?"
"A structure our enemies can't easily pull apart."
"Ah. —Lev tilted his head slightly—. Much better."
Casimir ignored the comment.
The agreement was deliberately ambiguous. Shared assets. Mutual protection. Public appearances. Limited access to certain resources of both organisations. And a carefully worded clause that made you the neutral point between two families that would not trust each other with a bullet.
It was not a traditional wedding. It was not exactly a business contract either. It was something built so that, from the outside, it would seem impossible to attack one party without immediately facing the other two.
Lev set the lighter down on the table.
"Who wrote this shit?"
"My lawyers."
"Of course it was your lawyers. It has your same ability to suck all the fun out of a threat."
For the first time, Casimir raised his eyes.
"The agreement does not require you to have fun."
"I wasn't talking to you."
Lev's gaze moved directly to you. Something changed in his expression. Not softness. Assessment. Curiosity.
"I want to know what the third person thinks of our little mafia marriage."
"It's not a marriage —Casimir corrected."
Lev smiled slowly.
"Yet."
Casimir closed his eyes for barely a second.
"Ignore him."
"Don't ignore me. That would be a terrible start to our relationship."
"There is no relationship."
"That remains to be seen."
Casimir finally rested his forearms on the table. When he addressed you again, his voice lost the layer of irritation reserved exclusively for Lev.
"Nothing in there gets signed tonight without your approval. You can reject clauses, demand changes, or get up and walk away. But if you accept, I need you to understand one thing."
His gaze remained fixed.
"This will only work if the rest of the world believes that attacking you means declaring war on both of us."
Lev leaned forward then.
"And there's the part he doesn't say."
Casimir looked at him in warning. Lev smiled.
"If you accept, half the criminal world will start wondering why two men who have spent years trying to destroy each other are willing to burn a city down for touching you."
Silence.
Casimir slid a pen across the table. Not toward you. He simply left it there.
"So let's start properly."
Lev rested his elbows on his knees, watching from the other end.
"For once I agree with him."
Casimir shot him a sideways look that promised this would not happen again. Then both of them focused their attention on you. Two criminal empires. Two men who could barely stand each other. And an agreement that none of the three was obligated to accept on the terms in which it had arrived at that table.
"Read it, —Casimir said, and pushed the folder the last inch with one finger. —Out loud. Then tell us which clause you want changed first, and we will change it before you sign anything."
"