by Bella Rose
He waved his hand, dismissing my concerns before he’d given them any thought at all. His reaction just pissed me off that much more. “She would not have let you near her if she knew that I had sent you. Anya belongs in this life. She just has not come to terms with that fact yet. She will. Soon. And you have helped her get there. Falling in love with you, giving herself to you, that will only force her to accept that she must take her place in the Bratva.”
“Why?” Did the guy even know Anya? I couldn’t imagine the woman doing anything she didn’t want to. Even when she was behaving like a frightened rabbit, she was more stubborn than a mule. “Anya threw me out of her house when she found out you wanted to name me Pekhan.”
Boris only nodded. “Yes. That would make sense.”
“Can you explain it, then? Because it doesn’t make a damn bit of sense to me.”
“She knows that if you are Pekhan, that means you are the man I have chosen for her to marry.”
He made it sound so reasonable. As if it was a foregone conclusion that his daughter would marry whomever he set up as the successor to his leadership position. And in a twisted, very Bratva way—it did make sense. However, I could suddenly understand why Anya had thrown such a fit when she discovered what was going on. She had been set up—without her knowledge or her permission. She had given herself to a man who hand been handpicked to drag her kicking and screaming back to the life she had taken great pains to leave behind.
“That isn’t fair,” I murmured. “You cannot expect her to marry where you choose. She’s a grown woman. She should marry someone she loves.”
“Even if that man is not you?” Boris prompted.
The expression on his face said he thought he had gotten one over on me. But I wasn’t about to be taken in so easily. “It would kill me,” I admitted quietly. “But I am man enough to admit that I want her to be happy, even if that happiness is not by my side.”
“My, my,” Boris murmured. He pressed his fingertips together and smiled as though he had heard exactly what he wanted. “What you do not understand is that everything that makes the Romanov organization what it is has been put into a trust in Anya’s name. Upon my death, she will inherit it all. So only her husband will have the power to run this organization.”
I had a very bad thought. “Who else knows this?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps some of my Avtoritet? It is hard to say.” He shrugged it off. “But no one would gainsay me. Not about this.”
I thought of Antonin. “But someone might gainsay you on your choice for the next Pekhan of the Romanovs.”
“That whelp?” Boris made a pfft noise and waved his hand dismissively. “I told him earlier that I was taking away his men and his position as punishment for his insolence in announcing himself as my successor. As if I would leave the Romanovs in his hands. I would as soon burn the whole operation to the ground. Antonin is far too brash and quick to anger.”
“And you didn’t think about that as a problem when you demoted him?” I said through gritted teeth. “Have you any idea what you’ve done?” I groaned and tried to imagine all of the ways Antonin could punish us.
Then I realized that the most obvious way was also the most insidious. “Anya,” I whispered. “He’s going to go after Anya.”
“Why would he do that?” Boris scoffed. “She’s not even part of this organization at the moment!”
“No, but you just said that she owns the whole thing,” I snapped. “Don’t you think Antonin has figured that out?”
Boris actually looked chagrined. “Find her, Vasily. Protect my daughter.”
Anya
I was so angry with Vasily I could have shot him if I’d had a gun. At least that was the lie I kept telling myself as I poured hot water from the kettle over the tea bags in my mug. I couldn’t sleep. How could I after everything that he’d told me? And the dolt didn’t even realize why I was angry. Or perhaps he did.
Absently dunking the tea bags to speed along the process, I wondered about his seemingly honest befuddlement about my anger. How could he not know? If he was professing to be my father’s chosen replacement—the next Pekhan of the Romanovs—how could he not know about the trust?
I rested my hip against my kitchen countertop and sipped the hot tea. It seared my tongue and my throat. I didn’t care. Usually being in the kitchen made me comfortable. I felt cozy and safe. Now I was just angry and cold inside. I had struggled so hard to make a life for myself outside the Bratva. Now I was getting sucked back in. There was no other way.
At one time I had even consulted a lawyer about trying to circumvent the stupid trust. I wanted it dissolved. I was of age after all. Apparently my father had some really good lawyers. Ironic considering he was a fucking criminal! Or maybe that was why. I didn’t know. I didn’t care.
There was a knock on my front door. I pressed my lips together and set my mug down. Of course there was a knock on the front door. I waited a minute. Apparently he had at least absorbed my last comments about just sneaking into my house. He could have broken in and then broken back out by now. Was he just trying to be polite so I wouldn’t be so pissed off about having to marry his lying ass?
“You know,” I said. “When I told you to get out, I wasn’t just telling you to take a fucking walk around the block. I meant for good!”
There was another knock, this one more insistent.
My temper started to boil. Vasily was going to get the worst of my temper if he didn’t watch it! “What part of get out do you not comprehend?” I shouted this in Russian. Then switched to English. “I don’t want to talk to you!” I yanked the door open and was promptly openmouthed in shock.
“So rude,” Antonin said snidely. “And here I was prepared to be polite.”
“Wh—what are you doing here?” I finally managed to stammer. “You shouldn’t be here. My father wouldn’t approve.”
“Your father wouldn’t know,” Antonin spat. “He’s too drunk off his ass to know anything these days.”
That rankled, mostly because it was true. But Antonin was supposed to be loyal to my father. Why was he here making a complete ass out of himself? “You’ve been stirring up the Orlovs,” I guessed suddenly.
The corner of his mouth twisted. He pushed his way into my living room. I stumbled back, trying to keep space between him and me. The room seemed so much smaller with him inside. His malevolent presence was suffocating. I wanted him out, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think he was going to go of his own accord.
“If you’re here when Vasily gets back, he won’t be pleased.” I tried to inject some bravado into my voice. I’m not even sure if I succeeded. All of my emotions were so jumbled up!
“Vasily was answering a summons from Boris,” Antonin said offhandedly. “He won’t be back in time to help you.”
“Meaning what?” I kept my voice firm and forced myself to stand my ground. This was my house and my life, and I could not keep letting people push me around. “What do you think you’re going to gain from this? I have nothing to give you! I left my father’s organization years ago.”
Antonin whirled around. He had been studying the interior of my home. It made my skin crawl to think of him looking at my private things. I was going to have to clean for a week just to get his stench out of the house. Now he was chuckling to himself. “Do you honestly think that I wouldn’t know about your real role in the Bratva? I stumbled on that years ago. Probably before you did.”
“You’re such a bastard,” I told him bitterly. “My father should have left you in that orphanage. Maybe your parents put you there because they knew what kind of poison you would spread.”
“That’s harsh.” He put his hand over his heart, pretending to be hurt. At least I’m assuming he was pretending considering the ugly expression on his face. “I’m truly hurt that you would say something so hateful about me. But then you’re nothing but a spoiled princess. Isn’t that right?” He gestured to my things. “Look at all of this. You li
ke to say that you’re independent, but I know what bought all of this! It’s purchased with mafiya money. With money gained from my blood, sweat, and tears!”
“Oh please.” There was no way I was letting him throw himself a pity party at my expense. “When have you bled or sweated for anything in your whole life? Anything I own I bought with my own earnings from my own job. You’ve been stealing from my father for years! He knows all about you, Antonin. And I’m pretty sure that’s why he decided that Vasily was to be the next Pekhan.”
“You bitch!”
He stomped toward me, and I could do nothing but try not to cower. Antonin grabbed me by my hair and twisted it around his hand. “Let’s go, princess. We can’t be late for our own wedding!”
Chapter Nineteen
Anya
Wedding. The word actually made my stomach sour to the point that I thought I might throw up all over Antonin. As undignified as that might be, I think I would take the opportunity for distraction. The ass was still holding onto my hair while he tried to get the passenger door of his car open.
“Hold still!” he growled.
He wrenched my neck around so hard I think I actually saw stars. My vision crinkled at the edges and turned black. No. I could not pass out. Not now! I needed to stay conscious and figure a way out of this mess.
“Do you really think you can worm your way into the Romanov leadership by marrying me and gaining control of my trust?” I squirmed, trying to smash his instep with my sadly insufficient shoe.
He finally got the door open. I grabbed the edges of the car, trying to keep him from stuffing me inside. I pressed the soles of my shoes against the pavement and held on until my fingers screamed with the effort.
“You know we’ve always thought you were just stupid.” His voice sounded strained. Good. “But apparently you’re just smart enough to know what’s happening and too stupid to prevent it.”
“Seriously?” I snorted. “That’s the best you’ve got. I’m too stupid to prevent a kidnapping?”
“No.” He sounded downright exasperated now. His expression was ugly, and a real shot of fear lanced through my body as I considered what he might do next. “But you’re too stupid to realize that you’re—” He made a face and reached into his pocket. When he pulled out his gun, I knew I was going to have to change my game plan. “Just get in the damn car.”
“If you shoot me, you’ve got nothing. The trust is dissolved, and everything goes back to my father.” I could not resist needling him. “Who—at least I’ve heard—has already announced that Vasily is going to be his successor.”
“Fine.” I saw him flip the gun end over end. “Have it your way.”
I could not get out of the way fast enough. The pistol hit me in the back of the neck with shocking force. I felt my body crumple. I lost control of my limbs, and my vision went dark. As I slumped into the car behind me, I realized that I was in real trouble. I had to get this figured out. I had to. And yet I had nothing to help me.
So much for my freaking bodyguard, right?
I can count the number of times I’ve passed out on one hand. I’m not much of a party girl. I don’t like to drink. And I’ve only been conked on the head a few times in my life. So let’s just say that the disgusting feeling of waking up and not being completely aware of where I had been taken was very disorienting. Not to mention the horrible dry feeling in my mouth. It felt like my tongue was made of cotton and I’d been eating a steady diet of dirt for months.
“Why, hello there, Sleeping Beauty.”
I’d recognize Antonin’s sarcastic voice anywhere. I tried to open my eyes and respond, but the room just began to spin around and around. I probably had a concussion. It occurred to me that they were all going to be pissed off if I died some accidental death because of Antonin’s rough treatment. That would certainly serve them all right, although it would also end my life. I didn’t want that to happen. I was only just now realizing how much I wanted to live.
Okay. I needed to focus. I took deep breaths. My lungs were still working. That was good, right? As soon I as felt like I wasn’t going to hurl, I opened my eyes. The room slowly came into focus. It was low and dark. It looked like a dirty bar. Yes. It was definitely a dirty bar.
A glare across the room turned out to be the gaudy lights of a jukebox. The bar itself was long and scarred. The place looked seedy, and there were no obvious customers. There were people, but I got the feeling from the way they were staring that they were somehow connected to Antonin.
“Yuri!” Antonin called. “Get your ass out here. She’s awake!”
A guy walked out from behind the bar. He was wiping his hands on a towel. He seemed vaguely familiar, though I could not place him. Not that I probably could have accessed most of my brain at that moment. A good portion of my intellect was still fuzzy as hell.
“Yuri took an online course.” Why did Antonin sound like he was boasting? Who cared if this Yuri person was pursuing a degree?
Then Antonin’s smile turned sly. “He can perform marriages.”
“You got the marriage certificate?” Yuri spoke in a broken version of Russian mixed with English. Really bad English.
“Marriage certificate?” I croaked.
“We’re getting married, sweetheart.” Antonin took my hand.
That’s about the time I realized that I wasn’t tied up. He was standing in front of me in a very idiotic position. It left his groin vulnerable, and I took full advantage. Even sitting down, my dancing-hall-girl moves managed to ram my calf right into his groin.
Antonin gasped and hopped sideways. He grabbed himself and cursed in three languages. I tried to get up, but someone else grabbed me and pinned me back down on the chair. The hands on my shoulders were enormous. It was like a giant had decided to join Antonin’s side. And why wouldn’t they? Giants were evil, right?
I sucked in a deep breath and tried to find my voice. “Are you insane? Why would I ever agree to marry you?”
“Well,” Yuri drawled in his thick accent, “you don’t actually have to agree. Understand? You just have to be here. Nobody cares if you agree.”
“The judge will on Monday morning!” I protested. Were they all insane? How could they ever believe this idiotic plan would work? “What century are you from? We are not in Siberia, you know?”
Antonin made an animalistic sound of rage. He grabbed my hair once again. The pressure was so intense that my eyes watered. I couldn’t stop the reaction no matter how much I might have wished it. My scalp was burning. He was going to rip my hair right out. Then he abruptly let go and squatted down so he was right down in my face.
“It makes no difference what happens on Monday since you’re never leaving this bar alive.”
Vasily
I knocked for a third time on Anya’s door. There were lights on in the kitchen, and it looked like she was at home. I relaxed a little at that. If I had beat Antonin here to Anya’s house, we had a shot at keeping her safe.
Why was she ignoring me? Surely she couldn’t be that mad. Or I suppose she could have been. Women were funny that way. Practicality meant nothing if it was in direct opposition to a feeling of betrayal. And really, she could certainly have grounds to feel like I’d betrayed her. Even though I’d had no idea she was inheriting all of the Romanov holdings. That had been a complete surprise to me, but it wasn’t an unpleasant one.
Leaning against the railing of Anya’s front porch, I tried to imagine what it might be like to be married to her. Or rather, I tried to imagine what marriage would be like period. I’d never really considered it. Men like me rarely had long-term relationships. Our life spans tended to be short. Not to mention all the travel made family time difficult to squeeze in.
I put my hands on the wood and remembered what it was like to bend Anya over the railing at Daisy’s house. Taking her outside with the breeze tickling my skin and the moon hanging overhead had been a singular experience. I wanted that again. I wanted it all the time. And
I wanted it with Anya.
Turning around, I made a decision. I’d tried to be respectful of her privacy just like she’d asked. But she wasn’t answering the door. If she would have answered, I would have been saved the trouble of breaking and entering. It seemed quite simple from where I was standing. Especially with Antonin the crazed lunatic making threats.
It took only seconds to pick the lock and a few seconds more to realize that the door had been unlocked. Was she expecting me?
“Anya?” I called out.
No answer.
Something tight and hot took up residence in my gut. It took me a moment to realize that it was a strong case of nerves. I was feeling almost panicky at this point. The living room was empty. The kitchen looked as though she had only just walked away from a pot of hot water. The stove was still warm to the touch.
“Anya?” I headed for the bedroom, but it was also empty.
This was not good. Antonin was the only person who might have a reason to take Anya against her will. We could blame the Orlovs all we wanted, but at the end of the day it was Antonin pulling the strings.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Boris. “He’s got her.”
“He will have taken her to a place in the Orlovs’ territory.” Boris did not sound like himself. He sounded a hundred years old and scared shitless. I couldn’t blame him.
“Are any of Antonin’s men there?” I thought there might be a shred of a chance that at least a few of them were still loyal Romanovs.
“No. He took them all with him.”
I grimaced but said nothing. Boris was old and tired. He was a sick man and an alcoholic. There was no reason to put any more on his head. “I’ll find her.”
“Do you want men?” Boris asked hastily. “I will send them all.”
“No. I’m used to working alone. I’ll do better on my own.”
We hung up and I was left with this horrible feeling in my gut that things were never going to be the way that I had hoped. I tamped down on that thought immediately. There was no reason to be fatalistic just yet. I had to stay positive and try to figure out where the fuck that little bastard would take her.
