by Bella Rose
He stopped walking. Straightening, he cocked his head and tried to figure out where that odd noise was coming from. It was almost a scrape. Or perhaps it was something more sinister. Then he heard a little yelp.
Something was happening to Maria!
Flinging open his bedroom door, he bolted across the hall only to come up short at her locked door. Sasha put his shoulder to the thick wood. It groaned, but held. He slammed against it. Applying every bit of strength he could muster, he tried desperately to break it open. Finally the hinges gave and the door collapsed into the bedroom. Sasha stumbled inside and looked wildly around for the threat.
He saw—nothing. There was nobody in here. Not even Maria. He spun. Then he checked the bathroom. Everything was untouched. There was still a fire in the fireplace, and Maria’s book was on the floor spread open as though it had been dropped. She was just gone.
Then he spotted the open window. Surely not. Surely his gentle little bride wouldn’t attempt to leap from a second-story window!
Sasha dashed to the window and leaned out. The sight of Maria climbing nimbly down the trellis shocked him to the core. What was she thinking?
“Maria!” Sasha called out. “What are you doing? You’re going to hurt yourself!”
She looked up at him. He watched her shift her weight carefully on the narrow wooden frame. Then she raised her right hand and gave him the finger. “Fuck off!”
Sasha pulled his upper body back into the house. He could have called his guards or yelled for someone to catch her before she could get out the front gate, but he was afraid his men would hurt her. They didn’t respect her very much and were likely to be rough with her in this situation.
That’s when it hit him.
Sasha sank to the floor, crouching with his head in his hands. That was what Maria had been trying to tell him. It wasn’t about the dirt. It wasn’t about the maids not doing their jobs. Everyone in this house treated her like a disease. They treated her like the enemy. This place wasn’t home. Not for her. And if he ever wanted her to come back here, he was going to have to make some serious changes first.
Chapter Twenty-One
Flipping Sasha the bird was probably a little over the top. But as Maria jumped off the bottom of the trellis and started running for the outside fence, she couldn’t make herself care. She loved her husband. She just didn’t want to be with him if he saw her as nothing but a broodmare or a toy. She wanted to be respected as a person. And the only way that was going to happen would be if she demanded it.
The grass was already damp with dew. Somehow just the act of running pell-mell through the yard was freeing. She fought the urge to fling her head back and laugh like a lunatic. She was supposed to be sneaking. That required quiet. But at the moment, all she felt was an intense sensation of freedom and maybe even the excitement of possibility. Her father loved her. And she was going home to a place where she was a respected member of the family.
The fence was made of tall wrought iron posts. Each was tipped with a sharp pike. They looked like a line of medieval weapons. Just in case, she put her hand on the gate and gently turned the knob. It swung out, and she stepped into the street outside the Tarasov estate. Sometimes the idiosyncrasies of security astounded her. She did not hear a single peep from inside, which was weird since Sasha totally knew what she was doing.
Maybe he doesn’t care.
Maria shrugged off that thought. It didn’t matter. It was just more proof that she was making the right decision. She started walking in the direction of the bus stop. She had never actually taken the bus, but she had a little money in the wallet she’d shoved into her jacket. She should be able to handle one bus ride to her father’s neighborhood. Once she was back in Sokolov territory, it would all change.
The chill night air began to seep into her bones as she stood at the corner and waited for the bus. When it finally rolled down the street, she could not help but glance back toward the lights of the Tarasov mansion visible above the surrounding trees. It should have been home, but it wasn’t.
***
Sasha felt dull and tired as he closed the window in Maria’s room. There was no point in hanging around. She was gone. Not so long ago, he might have been relieved by that. If she left of her own accord, then it was the Sokolovs violating the terms of the council’s edict regarding the alliance between the families. He wouldn’t be at fault. The Sokolovs would pay the penalty.
The room still carried her scent. Sasha stood in the center of what had been her space and inhaled deeply. The light feminine fragrance filled him with regret and longing. He missed her smile. When had it become about more than sex? He wanted her, yes. But it was more than that. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to hear her laugh and listen to her talk about her brazenly sunny-side view of life. Maria possessed some of the damnedest ideas about people. He missed having her near.
Exiting the room and propping up the ruined door, a part of him realized on some level that he could easily become one of those crazies who kept a room as a shrine to a person long gone. Maria wasn’t dead. Her clothing and what few personal belongings she’d brought with her were still in that room though. He would leave it exactly as it was until she decided what she wanted to do.
He wandered downstairs, unwilling to return to his room alone. A light shone in the kitchen. Sasha moved toward it almost automatically. He wanted light and warmth, and maybe even company. He could have sought out his soldiers. There were other men he could begin forming bonds with. The lot of them were likely in the conference room draining his stores of vodka. But Kirill and Dimitri had been his closest confidantes since he was a young man. He felt their betrayal and their loss acutely. He needed time to sort out who to trust.
So now he entered the kitchen and took a seat at the counter. Oksana was bustling around as she prepared something. It looked like a tart. He didn’t remember ordering anything like that or having a reason for a holiday tart.
“What are you making?”
“Just some of my holiday treats,” Oksana responded in Russian.
Sasha began drumming his fingers on the countertop. “For what?” Now he was curious.
“Just to eat.” She seemed to be trying to avoid the topic. How odd.
“Good.” He shrugged. “I love your holiday bread. It’s not the holidays, but that’s all right. Can I have a piece of the loaf you have cooling there?”
“Oh, that’s for…something else,” she said lamely.
“Oksana, Maria told me what happened the night she fired Olga.” He sighed. This was such petty, stupid bullshit. “If you’re stealing food from me and using my kitchen for your own purposes, why don’t you just come clean about it?”
Her dark eyes got big and round. “Tatiyana asked me to make this for her son’s birthday party.”
“Why not make it herself?” Sasha tried to be calm and well—normal.
“She cannot make the bread.” Oksana gave a helpless shrug. “She has no talent for baking.”
Sasha sighed. “Then why not make the bread on your own time in your own kitchen?”
“The ingredients are expensive.” Her throat wiggled as she swallowed. The woman had always been plump. Now Sasha had the thought that he was apparently paying to make her more so. It was unkind, but he was getting very irritated with the evasiveness of her behavior. He paid his staff well—expensive ingredients or not, she should have been able to afford them.
“So I am paying for this bread for Tatiyana,” Sasha prodded, wanting her to say the words.
“Yes, Pakhan.” Oksana’s gaze was glued to the countertop.
“That will stop,” he told her stiffly. “Immediately.”
***
Maria wasn’t sure what she expected when she arrived at her father’s home. The Sokolov compound was locked down tight. There was even a guard in what she’d always thought of as an ornamental gatehouse. The grizzled veteran peered out at her with open suspicion.
“You are married
to the pakhan of the Tarasovs,” he informed her.
Maria frowned, annoyed by his rude treatment. “I know that, but I’m here to visit my father. He was hurt. I was the one who brought him home a few hours ago. Would you please let me in? Call Vitale, he’ll tell you.”
Vitale was her father’s second-in-command. Maria had always thought of him as a smarmy opportunist, but her father trusted Vitale implicitly. Plus the man’s name got her some instant credibility with the gate troll.
“Fine.” He sniffed. “But none of your Tarasov friends are coming in here. You got it?”
“I didn’t bring any Tarasov friends with me,” she said drily. Turning around, she made a gesture to indicate the obvious lack of an entourage. “Does it look like I brought any Tarasovs? No. That’s because I came alone.”
“Whatever.” The gate troll let her through, but didn’t offer to escort her any farther.
Maria sighed and headed toward the front door. She didn’t need anyone to show her the way to her own home.
She slipped through the front door and past two more guards. They each gave her a suspicious stare, but said nothing. At least being the pakhan’s daughter carried some weight around here. Far more than being the pakhan’s wife did at the Tarasov place.
Vitale was standing outside her father’s bedroom suite. His lanky body was perfectly still, and he looked almost as though he were asleep on his feet. But when she approached he stirred and offered her an oily smile.
“I wondered if you would be back tonight to see your father,” Vitale said solicitously. “He’s stable, and I’m sure he’d like to see you.”
Finally, someone who treated her like a valued member of the family! How crazy that it was the man who she had always suspected of being behind her marriage to a Tarasov in the first place.
Maria shoved that thought aside. She had no time to worry about it right now. She just wanted to see her father.
***
“Maria left me to return to her family,” Sasha announced to Oksana. He wanted to see how she would react to the news.
She pulled out a rolling pin and began rolling the tart crust. But every few seconds he could see a sly smile cross her lips. Was she glad? Why? What good did it do her?
“I suppose she thought being the lady of the Tarasov house wasn’t good enough for a Sokolov, hm?” He threw the bait out there and waited for Oksana to take it.
“Are you crazy?” Oksana blustered. “You’re most definitely too good for that one. Now you can get a proper Tarasov wife.”
“Tarasov wife?”
“Tatiyana’s daughter,” Oksana said expectantly.
Sasha gazed at the woman as though she’d lost her mind. “I wasn’t aware that Tatiyana had a daughter.”
“I thought…” Oksana looked up from her bread, very confused. “But Tatiyana said that you were going to marry her daughter until that Sokolov tramp came along.”
“No one informed me. As I said, I didn’t think Tatiyana had a daughter.”
“She does.” Oksana was looking agitated. “That was why Tatiyana asked all of us to help her get rid of that Sokolov woman.”
“So her daughter could marry me?”
“Yes!”
Sasha grimaced. Things were starting to make sense, and it wasn’t making him feel any better about Maria’s treatment here. “I love Maria, Oksana. Do you understand that? I feel bad that she’s left. I would do anything to have her back, and yet while she was here, all of you treated her like dirt. You kept her a stranger in what should have become her home. This should have been her home!” He stressed that last bit so emphatically that he saw Oksana’s big eyes fill with tears.
“I’m sorry, Pakhan. I am truly sorry.”
“Yes. I know you are.” He tried not to be too frustrated with her. Tatiyana’s power over his household staff was formidable. “The problem is that your apology is coming far too late, and you’re saying it to the wrong person. Maria deserves your apology just as much as she deserves your respect. She never did anything but try to be friendly and accommodating. She had every right to make the changes she did. She had every right to tell Tatiyana to get out or to fire Olga. I have half a mind to fire you too.”
“No!” Oksana protested. “Please don’t. I need this job.”
“Then stop stealing from me. Got it?”
Oksana swiped at her tears leaving flour tracks behind on her cheeks. “I promise.”
“And for God’s sake, help me figure out a way to make my wife feel welcome in this house,” Sasha growled. “We’ve all got some work to do on that.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Maria immersed herself in the task of nursing her father back to full health. His wound wasn’t life threatening. It wasn’t even particularly nasty or painful, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Plus, it felt so good to be needed. Here the staff followed her directions because they were used to doing so. The men might have looked at her with suspicion at first, but when they saw how dedicated she was to the care of their pakhan, they changed their tune.
“Here you go.” She fluffed her papa’s pillows and helped him to sit up. “You’re cleared by the doctor to do some exercises today, Papa,” she reminded him. “Would you like me to call John to help you with your physical therapy?”
“I hate those exercises,” her father said in his usual bad-tempered fashion. “I want you to sit here with me for a moment and explain why you’ve been here for a week without a single word from Sasha Tarasov.”
Maria perched on the end of her father’s bed and looked down at her hands. This was rather awkward. She didn’t want to explain what had happened. It was embarrassing, and she felt like a child. Here in her father’s big bedroom suite, she could forget about her married life. It was possible just to be Maria Sokolov.
Maria reached out and fiddled with the breakfast tray her father had set aside. She folded the napkin into quarters and then eighths. “I didn’t like being at the Tarasov compound, Papa,” she began hesitantly. “The Tarasovs were very clear that they did not want to have anything to do with me. The cook would not take my suggestions. The housekeeper undermined my authority even after I let her go. The maids would not clean my rooms. They made it very plain that I was nothing more than an intruder in the home of their pakhan.”
“Women,” Emil muttered. “Women are always so petty.”
“Yes,” Maria agreed. “But their behavior was reinforced by Sasha’s statement that he intended to keep me around his home only until he grew tired of me. Then he would put me in an apartment somewhere and only worry about siring a few children.”
Her father let loose with a string of expletives—in three languages—that made Maria blush. She hadn’t really wanted to tell her father how badly she had failed at being Sasha’s wife, but she didn’t want him to think that she had run away for no reason either.
“My daughter does not get treated in such a way!” Emil struggled to throw his feet over the side of the bed. “The council will hear of this!”
“Papa! You’ll hurt yourself! Slow down and wait for Vitale to help you out of bed!” Maria cried out.
The bullet had gone all the way through her father’s side. Too much twisting around made the entry and exit wounds bleed. The bedroom door burst open, and Vitale scrambled into the room. He took one look at Emil and then moved to assist.
“What happened?” Vitale demanded. “Who got him so upset?”
“I did.” Maria felt like sobbing. “It was all my fault.”
***
Sasha glanced up to see the same young Tarasov soldier standing in front of his desk. The young man trembled less this time, as he held out a sealed envelope.
“What is this?” Sasha tried to keep his voice very mild and unthreatening.
“A…A note from the council.”
Sasha could not imagine what was so awful about this note that the youth would be so obviously worried about delivering it. Then Sasha pulled a knife from the inside of
his jacket and slit the envelope open, drawing out the single sheet of paper. It was a summons from the council.
“Who delivered this?” Sasha demanded.
“A man. He said his name was Orlov.”
Sasha cursed. The Orlovs were sitting in the high seat of the council at the moment. They liked the power and the control. They were the ones who had decreed there was too much bad blood between the Sokolovs and the Tarasovs. At the time Sasha had assumed that the old Orlov pakhan was just tired of the fighting, but he’d also gotten the idea that the old man liked to play peacemaker. Even when it meant twisting arms and breaking legs to force people to lay down their grudges.
“Leave me,” Sasha ordered.
Once again, the kid practically did a nosedive on his way out of Sasha’s office. Sasha could not help but snort and roll his eyes at the over dramatic response to authority. Sasha apparently needed to get to know his men a little better. The last pakhan of the Tarasovs hadn’t bothered, but Sasha had never wanted to be like his father.
“Wait!” Sasha called after the boy. “Tell all of the avoritets that I want a meeting in the conference room in two hours.”
This council summons was for tomorrow, and Sasha had a pretty good idea of why he’d received it. Maria had been gone for more than a week. Who knew what she had said or what the council had heard about the failure of their marriage. But Sasha wasn’t ready to call it quits. He wanted another chance with his wife. And that meant having a very frank discussion with his people about the important place she held in his life—and especially his heart.
***
Maria slipped out of her father’s room and shut the door. He was sitting in his chair yakking in Russian to his long-time friend Yevgeni Orlov. Yevgeni supposedly had the ear of the Orlov pakhan, who sat at the head of the Bratva council. Maria was getting heartily tired of hearing about how the Tarasovs had disrespected her and therefore the entire Sokolov clan. This was a private issue between her and her husband. At least that was what she had originally thought. Now apparently the entire council was getting involved.
