Page 25 of Auctioned to the Russian Pakhan
His phone buzzed against his chest, the harsh sound cutting through his thoughts like a blade. The caller ID made his blood run cold.
Dmitri Markov. His partner in crime. The man who’d orchestrated Irina’s kidnapping and was currently waiting for updates on their grand plan to destroy the Nikolai family.
“I need to take this,” he told Simon, already moving toward the stairs.
“Matvei Volkov,” he answered, stepping into the relative privacy of the loading dock.
“My friend!” Dmitri’s voice was warm with false camaraderie, the kind of performance that had fooled better men than Matvei. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about our arrangement.”
“Hardly.” Matvei kept his tone carefully neutral. “These things take time. You can’t rush a delicate operation.”
“Delicate?” Dmitri laughed, and there was something sharp in the sound that set Matvei’s teeth on edge. “How delicate can it be? You have the girl. You have access to their family dynamics. Surely you’ve learned something useful by now.”
Through the window, Matvei could see Irina crouched beside a piece of equipment, her face serious with concentration as she examined something that had caught her attention. She looked so young in that moment, so earnest and unguarded, that his chest tightened with something that felt uncomfortably like protectiveness.
“I’m still gathering intelligence,” he said. “You want this done right, don’t you? Rushing in without proper information is how people end up dead.”
“People end up dead anyway in this business,” Dmitri replied, his voice losing some of its manufactured warmth. “The question is whether they’re the right people.”
The threat was subtle but unmistakable. Dmitri was getting impatient, and impatient partners in their line of work had a tendency to become problematic very quickly.
“Give me another week,” Matvei said. “Two at most. I’ll have everything you need.”
“See that you do.” Dmitri’s voice was pleasant again, but the steel underneath remained. “I’d hate for our partnership to become... complicated.”
The line went dead, leaving Matvei staring at his phone with a mixture of anger and something that felt suspiciously like guilt. This was business. This was survival. This was exactly thekind of ruthless calculation that had kept his family alive and prosperous in a world where weakness meant death.
So why did he feel like he was betraying something precious?
“Bad news?” Irina’s voice made him spin around, his heart jumping in a way that would have been embarrassing if he’d had time to think about it.
She was standing in the doorway, backlit by the warm light from the distillery, and for a moment, she looked like something out of a dream. Her hair was slightly mussed from leaning over equipment, there was a smudge of something on her cheek, and her eyes were bright with the kind of satisfaction that came from a job well done.
She was beautiful. Not just physically, though the sight of her never failed to hit him like a punch to the solar plexus, but in a deeper way that had nothing to do with bone structure or styling. She was vibrant and alive and completely, utterly herself in a way that made everything around her seem more real.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” he said, slipping the phone back into his jacket. “How did the rest of the tour go?”
“Brilliantly.” She stepped closer, her enthusiasm evident in every line of her body. “Pavel thinks we can increase efficiency by twenty percent if we implement even half the changes I suggested. Twenty percent, Matvei. Do you know what that could mean for your bottom line?”
He did know, actually. It could mean the difference between comfortable profit and serious wealth. It could mean expansion opportunities, increased influence, and a financial cushion that provided security for his entire family.
It could also mean using her insights to fund the very operation designed to destroy her brothers.
The guilt hit him again, sharper this time, settling in his stomach like a lead weight.
“You’re incredible,” he said, and meant it more than he’d meant anything in years.
The compliment made her cheeks flush pink, a reaction so genuine and unguarded that it took his breath away. When was the last time someone had blushed at his praise? When was the last time anyone had reacted to him with anything other than fear, calculation, or barely concealed agenda?
“I just see things clearly,” she said, ducking her head with sudden shyness. “My brothers never thought my observations were worth much, but you actually listen.”
The simple statement hit him like a blow. Of course, her brothers had dismissed her insights. In their world, women were protected, cherished, and kept safely away from anything that might harm them. The idea that one might actually contribute to the business side of things would be foreign, even threatening.
But they were idiots. She had a mind like a steel trap and instincts that bordered on supernatural. Any organization would be lucky to have her input.
The realization that he was probably the first person to ever truly appreciate her capabilities made something fierce and possessive rise in his chest.
“Your brothers are fools,” he said, the words coming out rougher than he’d intended.
