Chapter 11: The Russian Mafia
Meanwhile—
Sunset Boulevard.
Nicole Kidman stood in front of the liquor cabinet in her apartment and poured herself a glass of whiskey.
Holding the glass, she walked into the bathroom and stopped before the mirror.
She studied the delicate face reflected back at her.
Reaching up, she touched her cheek and frowned slightly.
"No wrinkles," she muttered.
After that quiet comment, she raised the glass and took a sip.
"So… where exactly did things go wrong?"
---
At the same time, on the other side of the city—
Exhausted from a long day, William pushed himself up from the small sofa and was just about to head for the bathroom to take a shower.
Before he could step out, there was a knock at the door.
"Who is it?"
"It's me," Katya's voice came from outside.
Before his memories awakened, William hadn't interacted much with this Russian girl.
He opened the door.
Katya leaned casually against the doorframe, one hand bracing it, the other holding the economics book she'd been reading earlier.
"What do you need?"
William rubbed his temples as he asked.
"Nothing special," Katya said lightly.
"I was just wondering—do you still need extra hands on your side, Brit?"
"Seriously?" William stared at her.
"Do you always insult people when you're job hunting, Katya?"
"Can't help it," she replied calmly.
"Your British reputation really isn't great."
She paused, then tilted her head slightly.
"Enough dodging the question. What do you think of me?"
As she spoke, Katya shifted her posture deliberately, showing off her striking curves.
William didn't even blink.
"I believe we've discussed this before," he said flatly.
"Your acting skills can only be described as disastrous."
William eyed Katya suspiciously.
He couldn't understand why she was bringing this up again.
Was she trying to cozy up to him—
take a shortcut through the back door?
"Blyat, I'm not talking about acting," Katya rolled her eyes.
"Then what are you talking about?" William raised an eyebrow.
"I passed the CPA. I'm a certified public accountant."
As she spoke, Katya loosened her grip, hugged the book to her chest, and leaned her shoulder against the doorframe.
There was a hint of eagerness in her gaze as she looked at William.
Faced with a woman's request, William's answer was clear—
No.
He shrugged.
"Sorry. The studio's tight on cash right now. I probably can't afford your salary, college student."
With that, William took a step back and prepared to shut the door.
Katya stopped it with one hand.
"Wait—did you really burn through that inheritance that fast?" she stared at him in disbelief.
"Please," William said dryly.
"Miss Mafia Heiress Pretending to Be Poor—filmmaking is expensive."
He tried to close the door again.
"Wait!" Katya suddenly shoved it back open, slammed one hand against the wall, and pinned him in place.
"You seem to have forgotten what my father does," she snapped.
"And since you brought up my background—"
She glared at him fiercely.
She wasn't poor.
Katya was a rebellious scion of a Russian mafia family.
Instead of joining the family business, she went to college—
got into UCLA Anderson, no less.
That decision had blown up spectacularly at home, which was why she'd ended up living in this Santa Monica slum.
As a result, the units next to theirs were now occupied by towering, bald, bearded Russian men who looked like they could crush skulls for a living.
"Listen, Miss Heiress," William said, rubbing his temples.
"My shrine is too small to host a deity like you. And more importantly—why my tiny studio?"
He had no time to play house with rich girls.
"Shut up! I have my reasons!"
Katya snapped, then pointed at him imperiously.
"What you should be saying is:
'Congratulations, Yekaterina Sergeyevna Ivanova, on joining our company.'
By the way—what was your crappy little studio called again?"
That name—
Perhaps influenced by memories from his previous life—
Was… memorable.
Umbrella Entertainment LLC.
Yes.
That Umbrella.
William rubbed his head.
"Miss Ivanova, the company's called Umbrella. But Hollywood is full of tiny studios—why insist on mine?"
To be fair, letting Katya in did have advantages.
It meant indirect access to the Russian mafia.
In California, these were people who had beaten the Italians into irrelevance.
Their influence—especially in the chaotic 1990s—was enormous.
But that was also the danger.
Once you tangled with that kind of power, there was no guarantee the company would still belong to Blake in the end.
That was one of the reasons William had rejected her before.
The other reason—
her acting really was terrible.
Seeing William's resistance, Katya fell silent for a moment.
"Suka. You talk way too damn much," she snapped.
"So—yes or no? If not, I'll find someone else."
She wasn't desperate.
Other small studios would do.
If she hadn't rejected her father's worldview, she wouldn't have bothered going to university and earning a CPA in the first place.
For a mafia heiress, Katya's values were… strangely un-mafioso.
Seeing her back off slightly, William didn't reject her outright this time.
Instead, he thought carefully.
"Tell me first," he said calmly.
"What do you really want from my company?"
"You really have to know?" Katya hesitated.
"Yes." William nodded.
He needed absolute control.
No instability. No hidden agendas.
Seeing his resolve, Katya withdrew her hand and walked to the window, resting her palms on the sill as she looked out over the street.
"This is… a long story."
Several minutes later, after hearing her out, William's eyebrows twitched.
Stripped to its core—
A mafia princess wanted to prove she could build something legitimate with her own ability.
Run a company.
Make it successful.
And prove to her father that not everything had to be won through violence.
William had exactly one word for that idea.
Naïve.
Yes, America in this era was booming.
But countless people struggled in the mud—and only a handful ever climbed out.
Personal effort was only one piece of the equation.
Still—
This was good news.
At the very least, it meant the likelihood of Russian mafia interference in his company would be significantly lower.
And that—
Was worth considering.