Page 38 of Hostage of the Russian
“She’s been asking for chamomile tea every evening,” Marta said without looking up. “Helps her sleep, she says. Poor thing looks like she hasn’t had a proper night’s rest in weeks.”
Kostya felt something twist in his chest. “Has she been eating?”
“Barely picking at her food. I tried making some of those cookies she liked last week, but she just thanked me and left them untouched.” Marta’s weathered face creased with concern. “Whatever’s troubling her, it’s eating her alive from the inside.”
The guilt that had been gnawing at Kostya since that night intensified. He’d been so focused on getting answers, on understanding what had happened with her father, that he’d failed to see how much she was hurting. How much his questions, his suspicions had probably made things worse.
He was still mulling over Marta’s words when Adrian appeared in his office the next morning, laptop in hand and that particular expression that meant he’d been digging into things he shouldn’t.
“I did some research on your wife,” Adrian said without preamble, setting the computer on Kostya’s desk.
“We already—”
“We did, but apparently, we didn’t dig deep enough.” Adrian’s pale blue eyes were colder than usual. “Azriel Hartford. Twenty-one years old, full academic scholarship to the University of Chicago, summa cum laude, graduating this weekend. But here’s the interesting part: she’s been financially independent since she was seventeen. No contact with family, no emergency contacts listed except for a high school guidance counselor.”
Kostya leaned forward, studying the information on the screen. “ALL things I’m already aware of. What else?”
“Medical records from when she was a minor are sealed, but I found some interesting gaps. Three separate hospital visits between the ages of fourteen and sixteen, all treated and released on the same day. No follow-up care, no primary physician relationship.” Adrian’s expression grew darker. “The kind of pattern you see with abuse cases where someone’s covering their tracks.”
The pieces were falling into place, and Kostya didn’t like the picture they were forming. Azriel hadn’t been living off her father’s criminal earnings; she’d been surviving on her own, working, studying, and fighting for every opportunity. And he’d waltzed into her life, destroyed her sense of safety, forced her into marriage, and then had the nerve to be surprised when she didn’t trust him.
“There’s more,” Adrian continued. “She graduates this Saturday. Ceremony’s at two.”
Kostya looked up sharply. “She didn’t tell me.”
“Would you have told someone who kidnapped you about your graduation?”
The blunt question hit like a physical blow. Because that’s what he’d done, wasn’t it? No matter how he’d tried to justify it to himself, no matter that he’d been genuinely trying to protect her from the chaos Danny had created, he’d taken her from her life, forced her into his world, and expected her to be grateful for it.
Saturday morning dawned bright and clear, and Kostya found himself standing outside Azriel’s door with a florist’s box in his hands. He’d been awake since five, alternating between pacing his office and second-guessing every decision he’d made in the past month.
He’d watched her sneak out through the kitchen entrance twenty minutes ago, thinking she was being clever. The black dress, the careful way she’d avoided the main hallway, the diploma folder clutched in her hand, it hadn’t taken much to piece together what today meant to her.
Now he stood in the empty corridor outside her room, knowing she was already halfway to campus, and felt like the monster he probably was for following her like this.
The University of Chicago campus was buzzing with activity when he arrived. Families clustered together, taking photos, graduates in caps and gowns hugged friends and professors, and somewhere in the organized chaos, Kostya spotted the three bodyguards he’d positioned around the perimeter. Dmitri had argued that it was too risky, that Kostya was making himself a target, but some things were more important than playing it safe.
He found a seat toward the back of the family section, far enough away that she wouldn’t immediately spot him butclose enough to see everything. When her turn came to walk across the stage, he watched as her eyes swept across the crowd, probably looking for no one, expecting no one, and then stopped. Their gazes locked across the sea of people, and he saw the shock register on her face, followed by something he couldn’t quite read.
“Azriel Hartford, summa cum laude, Bachelor of Arts in Psychology with minors in Criminal Justice and Business Administration.”
The pride that swelled in his chest caught him off guard. This woman, his wife, had fought for every opportunity, had excelled despite every obstacle thrown in her path. She’d been studying criminal justice and psychology, likely trying to understand the world that’d shaped her childhood. The irony wasn’t lost on him that she’d ended up married to the very type of man she’d likely been trying to understand and defeat.
When the ceremony ended and graduates began filtering into the crowd to find their families, Kostya stood near the edge of the main gathering area, suddenly uncertain. What if she decided to slip away? What if seeing him here, in this place that represented her dreams and her future, reminded her too starkly of everything he’d taken from her?
But then she was there, walking toward him with her cap in her hands and her diploma tucked under her arm. The afternoon sunlight caught the subtle highlights in her black hair, and when she approached him, there was something different in her expression—not quite a smile, but not the usual wariness either.
“Congratulations,” he said, producing the bouquet of white roses he’d been holding. “You were incredible up there.”
She accepted the flowers, burying her face in them for a moment. When she looked up, her eyes were bright with something that looked almost like happiness.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “For being here. For... for letting this be mine.”
“It is yours. All of it. Your achievement, your moment.” He paused, drinking in the sight of her looking genuinely pleased for the first time since he’d known her. “And if you want, we can celebrate. Anywhere you want to go, anything you want to do.”
She tilted her head, considering him with those sharp gray eyes that seemed to see right through him. “Anywhere?”
“Within reason. And with adequate security.”
