Page 51 of Obsessive Vows

"Markov's daughter. Anastasia. Recently returned from Switzerland. Education in international diplomacy while there, apparently." Anton's tone carries a hint of something I can't quite identify—perhaps concern at my momentary tension at hearing her name. "No direct interactions with her since your return."

Paris. Anastasia. Markov's daughter—my secret one night stand—now offered as my bride. The universe has a cruel sense of irony.

Anastasia, a carefully sheltered daughter sent abroad for education, groomed for specific roles in the organization's legitimate business fronts. A valuable chess piece in Markov's dynastic ambitions.

The realization hits with unexpected force—he will be offering the one woman I let get under my skin to me freely, in marriage. But will she want it… want me? Surely, she’s heard rumors of my name in her father’s inner circle by now.

"Perfect positioning." I keep my voice neutral despite the surge of triumph. Marriage to Markov's daughter places me exactly where I need to be—not just inside his organization, but inside his family. Access to his most private operations, his most secure locations, his most guarded information. "The final approach."

"Yes." Anton hesitates, uncharacteristic caution in his voice. "But Viktor... this changes everything. Marriage means public documentation, official records. Risk of exposure increases."

"Calculated risk." I move to the desk where my weapons lie prepared for today's meeting—the visible Makarov that Bratva captains openly carry, the concealed ceramic blade that has saved my life on multiple occasions. "The advantage outweighs potential complications."

"And the woman?" Anton pushes. "You would bind an innocent to this vendetta? Someone you seem to already have too keen an interest in."

The question hits an unexpected nerve. "No one in Markov's world is innocent." I secure the shoulder holster. "She's been groomed as a Bratva asset since birth. This changes nothing."

Anton's silence speaks volumes. Our partnership has grown increasingly strained as the endgame approaches—his caution at odds with my singular focus, his concerns about collateral damage conflicting with my determination to see justice done regardless of cost.

"The intelligence packet on the daughter will arrive secure channel by tonight," he says finally. "Review it before the formal introduction. Knowledge is leverage."

"Always." I end the call, returning the phone to its secure compartment in my desk.

Marriage. An unexpected but elegant solution to the final phase of my plan. While I've earned Markov's trust through demonstrated loyalty and tactical value, family connection provides access even his most trusted business associates never receive. The privacy of family compounds. The unguarded moments between public performances. The confidential information shared only with those bound by blood.

As I secure the final elements of my appearance—the platinum watch that signals success without ostentation, the tie pin that conceals a miniature tracking device—my mind continues processing implications. Marriage creates legitimacy that simple Bratva rank cannot—legal claims to Markov's empire once my vengeance is complete.

A flash of memory intrudes on these calculations—those eyes looking down at me as I buried my face between her thighs that one glorious night in Paris. I force the image away with practiced discipline. The woman from Paris has no place in today's strategic considerations. She was a momentary weakness, nothing more. Sure, I’ve obsessively been thinking about her and researching her since then, but I can’t let my emotions control me. I have a murdered family to get justice for.

Yet as I exit my apartment, her ghost lingers at the edges of my thoughts—a reminder of something beyond vengeance that I've sacrificed in pursuit of justice for my family.

* * *

Markov'sprivate study embodies the contradiction of modern Bratva leadership—Renaissance artwork and antique furnishings blending seamlessly with state-of-the-art security systems and technology. A space designed to intimidate through displays of both traditional power and contemporary capability.

I stand before his massive desk, hands clasped behind my back in the relaxed military posture that has become my signature. Not sitting until invited—an intentional deference that plays to Markov's ego while maintaining my own dignity.

"Baranov." He doesn't look up from the documents before him, a deliberate power play I recognize and accept as part of the dance. "Your work in Odessa exceeded expectations. The Turkish situation has been... permanently resolved."

"Efficiency serves all our interests, pakhan." I maintain neutral tone, neither humble nor boastful—the perfect balance for a rising lieutenant who knows his value without overstepping.

"Indeed." Now he looks up, cold eyes assessing me with the predatory calculation that has kept him at the Bratva's pinnacle for decades. "Which brings us to more significant matters. Your advancement has been... notable."

I incline my head slightly, acknowledgment without presumption. "I serve the organization's interests."

"And your own, I expect." A thin smile crosses his face. "Ambition is valuable when properly channeled, Baranov. I recognize the quality."

He pushes a folder across the polished desk surface—heavy black leather embossed with the Markov family crest. "Your service merits substantial reward. Territory. Resources. Position within the senior command structure."

I make no move toward the folder, maintaining perfect composure despite the triumph surging beneath the surface. This is it—the culmination of my years of infiltration, the access I've sacrificed everything to achieve.

"You've demonstrated loyalty, tactical brilliance, and discretion." Markov continues, watching my reaction with predatory focus. "Qualities I value in business associates. Qualities I require in family."

The statement hangs between us, its significance unmistakable. I allow a flicker of feigned surprise to cross my features—enough to acknowledge the honor without appearing either eager or reluctant.

"Family connections strengthen organizational integrity," I respond carefully. "The traditional foundations of Bratva stability."

Markov's smile widens fractionally—approval at my understanding of the unspoken implications. "My daughter has recently returned from completing her education abroad. Diplomatic training. International finance. Valuable skills for our European expansion."

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