Page 9 of Unveiled

But deep down, I already know the truth. Semyon Kopolov never says anything he doesn’t mean.

“Marry you? Give myself to the man who single-handedly destroyed my family? You can’t force me into this. And I can’t imagine you’d actually want to be wed to someone who hates you.” I shake my head. It isn’t computing.

He lazily drags his gaze down the length of my body, lingering on my neck, lower to where my mother’s jacket has slipped down, revealing the threadbare top that barely covers my shoulders. Without a word, he bends as if he’s going to kiss me. My heart races, and I’m so confused by my intuitive reaction that I freeze. But he doesn’t kiss me. Instead, he closes his eyes and inhales as if he’s in the presence of the world’s most precious flower. I stare in disbelief.

He opens his eyes. “Are you able to pay the debt or not?” he asks, the cruelty in his voice telling me he already knows I can’t.

“Of course I can’t.” Even if I gave him every penny of the bakery’s earnings for years, I could never repay him.

“You have no choice, then. Your family has nothing else to offer.” He leans in, his tone chilling. “This isn’t about what you want, Anya. This is about survival.”

A voice booms from the doorway. “A good solution, brother. Let her earn her family’s safety the hard way.” I turn to see Rafail Kopolov, Moscow’s most wanted and Semyon’s eldestbrother, leaning casually against the doorframe, his steely gaze fixed on me.

Semyon clears his throat. I turn back to him.

“I’ll give you until tomorrow to decide. But know this. If you refuse, your brother’s blood and the fate of your family are inyourhands.” He turns to Rodion and jerks his chin at him. “Take her home.”

Chapter 4

SEMYON

“You’re not botheredby this at all?” Rafail sits next to me and pours me another shot of vodka.

I frown. When people expect an emotional response from me, I try to understand why.

“Bothered? By what?”

“What she said to you.”

I scoff and polish off the shot Rafail poured me. “No. It only helps me to understand her better.”

“I didn’t know you two had so much history, Semyon.”

Of course he doesn’t. It’s not something I’d share with anyone. But hell, I didn’t know she hated me as much as she did.

“Growing up, I spent years at her home,” I say with a shrug. “I wasbest friends with her brother. I didn’t know she even remembered me.”

It’s just as well. I’m not someone cut out for love, and her hatred will make our arrangement much easier… though it’ll probably take some time to teach her to behave.

Still, her words battered the air around me. I cataloged every movement and fluctuation of her voice. The way her hands trembled and her chin tilted in defiance. The sharp intake of breath before her accusations. I slot every detail into the mental framework I use to understand the world, yet somehow… her raw emotions were unexpected.

Anya. Standing in the doorway, fire in her eyes, defiance etched in the straight line of her spine. It’s been years since I’ve seen her, but my body reacts instantly.

The freckles. The stubborn little chin. The mouth I’ve dreamt about but sworn I’d never touch.

My fingers flex against the rough wooden edge of the table, grounding myself in the sensation of lacquered wood. Familiar. Solid.

Why are humans so unpredictable?

I need patterns, logic, reason, and control.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and go over the details again.

The way her voice cracked when she talked about her mother—a data point. I lock it away in my mental catalog.

The tremor in her tone left an unfamiliar, uncomfortable warmth in my chest.

When she jabbed her finger at me, the physical contact was jarring. I felt the press of her fingertip and can still feel the exact spot where her touch lingered. I normally hate uninvited intrusion, yet I allowed it from Anya.

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