Page 13 of Forced Marriage Vows

“Yes, sir. What should I do about Rodriguez? He seems terrified he’ll lose his job.”

I wave him off. “Leave him to it. He’ll get the message when he doesn’t get fired. Bye, Jerome,” I say dismissively,

He doesn’t need any more prompting before he leaves me alone. I get back on the treadmill, switching it on and letting it hum to life beneath me.

I think back to what Ivan said. About me having to prove my worth. He asked for a plan to make me Pakhan, and I just might have one.

One that’s crazy enough to succeed. Unfortunately, it just might mean losing the only person I’ve ever really cared about.

CHAPTER 5

Anastasia

Instead of going straight to my apartment and sleeping for two days, I decide to pay a visit to my family’s home. I drive onto the compound, parking in front of the house and stepping out of the car. A few of the guards offer me short nods of acknowledgment when they see me.

As soon as the doors to my childhood home open, I’m rewarded with the loud noises of the dozens of people inside the building. I pretend not to notice the men lounging around or the women with them drinking, smoking, and engaged in all sorts of debauchery as I find my way to my father’s office.

This house is the center for our organization. Which consists of criminals and murderers. The Russian mafia is a well-organized cog with commanders and generals and people hoping to curry favor in order to reach the top. They’re not necessarily good people. And they’ve made this home their base of operations.

“Ana,” someone calls from one of the rooms I pass.

It’s a woman’s voice. Familiar. I pretend not to hear her, my steps carrying me farther away before she can stop me. The last thing I need is idle chitchat with anyone.

My father’s office door is wide open and he looks to be in a tense meeting. Four men are seated at the table with my father at the head, looking over them with contempt in his eyes.

His gaze is especially trained on Ivan Volkov. He’s a powerful man in the Bratva, nearly as powerful as my Papa. He got married a couple of weeks ago to an Italian princess, a ballsy move. And I heard there was even more drama at the wedding. He’s a man who plays by his own rules. That’s all the information I have on him, though. Oh and the fact that he’s incredibly hot.

The other men are Yuri Zakharov and Damien Morozova, who is Mikhail’s father. I don’t think I’ve ever spoken to either of them. In fact, my father’s gone out of his way to keep me away from them all. Mostly because he doesn’t trust anybody.

I linger at the doorway for a couple more seconds until my father notices me. When he does, his expression clears and he smiles. People always tell me I’m the only person who can draw that kind of smile from him. He claps his hands together, getting to his feet.

“Everyone out,” he orders. “My daughter is here,” he adds in Russian.

The men all turn to me. I don’t flinch away from the sudden attention. They all get to their feet, clearing out of the room and paying me no mind as they leave. I step inside once they’re gone, heading over to give my father a hug. I haven’t seen him in weeks.

“How are you,zvezdochka?” he asks, calling me his little star as he tends to do.

“Fine. What’s going on?” I ask, stepping out of his arms. We both take a seat on the couch. “That meeting looked tense.”

He frowns. “They’re all out to get me,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’re turning against me, Anastasia. I can feel it.”

“Maybe you’re just being paranoid?” I suggest, but he shakes his head.

“Be more careful. If anything goes wrong, you could easily be used against me. Coda will be shadowing you until I’m sure there’s no more danger.”

Oh, great. A bodyguard. I haven’t had one since I moved out of the house. It was hard to prove to my father that I could be independent and take care of myself, but I did it. Getting a bodyguard now feels like backsliding.

But judging by the look on his face, he’s not going to be taking no for an answer.

“I’m sure Coda and I will have lots of fun,” I mutter.

He arches an eyebrow. “Not too much fun.”

I laugh at that. I would never touch the six-foot-tall Russian. Never again, at least. Been there, done that. I realized at nineteen that dating your bodyguard can be problematic. Coda and I are friends now. We have a good relationship. He trusts me enough not to tell my father that he’s slept with me before, because he really doesn’t want to die.

“Enough about my conspiracy theories. How are things with you?”

“Fine. I flew out to L.A. for Ant’s birthday a couple days ago.”

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