Page 53 of Auctioned to the Russian Pakhan
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have right now.”
The echo of her own words from a few nights ago hung between them. When she’d taken care of him without questions or explanations. The irony wasn’t lost on either of them.
“We need to talk,” he said finally.
“I know.” She closed her eyes, leaning back against the pillows. “But not now. I can’t... I don’t have the energy to fight with you right now.”
Looking at her, pale and exhausted and so unlike the fierce woman who’d been matching him word for word just days ago, Matvei felt something crack inside his chest.
“Then don’t fight,” he said quietly. “Just rest. We’ll figure out the rest later.”
She opened her eyes, studying his face like she was trying to solve a puzzle. “You found out about the warehouse.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“And you think I had something to do with it.”
“Did you?”
A long silence stretched between them. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely audible.
“Not the way you think.”
“Then tell me the way it really was.”
But she was already closing her eyes again, exhaustion winning out over everything else. “Tomorrow. When I can think straight.”
Matvei wanted to push. Wanted answers to the questions burning through him. But looking at her now, seeing how utterly depleted she was, he found he couldn’t.
Tomorrow, they would have to face the truth about what had happened. About the warehouse, about her brother, about the lies and deceptions that had brought them to this point.
But tonight, she was sick and alone in a sterile hotel room, and despite everything, despite the betrayal and the anger and the confusion, she was still his.
And he wasn’t going anywhere.
Chapter 19 - Irina
The hotel room felt like a prison of her own making. Irina had managed to escape the mansion without detection, a skill she’d perfected over years of evading her brothers’ overprotective security measures. But now, curled up in the sterile bed with scratchy sheets that smelled like industrial detergent, she wondered if freedom was worth feeling this utterly destroyed.
Her body ached in ways that had nothing to do with physical illness. Every muscle felt heavy, like she was drowning in quicksand. She’d tried to eat the room service she’d ordered hours ago, but her stomach had rebelled violently. Now even the thought of food made her nauseous.
But the physical discomfort was nothing compared to the emotional devastation coursing through her. Every time she closed her eyes, she heard Matvei’s voice on that phone call. Cold. Calculating. Discussing her like she were nothing more than a chess piece in his game against her family.
The auction. The kidnapping. The marriage. All of it had been orchestrated. She’d known their relationship had unconventional beginnings, but she’d foolishly started to believe that somewhere along the way, it had become real. That he’d started to care for her as more than just a Nikolai he could use.
God, she was such an idiot.
The sound of a keycard sliding through the lock made her freeze. She knew that footstep, that particular way of moving through space like he owned it. Matvei.
“Go away,” she managed, not turning around to face him. Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears, weak and hollow.
“Like hell.”
Even sick and heartbroken, his commanding presence filled the room. She felt the mattress dip as he sat on the edge of the bed, and her treacherous body wanted to lean into his warmth despite everything.
