Page 55 of Auctioned to the Russian Pakhan
The question cut deep, mostly because she could see why he’d think that. Viktor had been there. Her brother, who’d tried to convince her to escape. Who’d probably left evidence of his presence deliberately, wanting to send a message.
“Not the way you think,” she said finally.
“Then tell me the way it really was.”
But exhaustion was winning out over everything else. Her eyelids felt like they had weights attached to them. “Tomorrow. When I can think straight.”
She drifted in and out of sleep for hours, semi-conscious but aware of his presence. He stayed. Even after everything, evenbelieving she’d betrayed him, he stayed. She felt cool cloths on her forehead when her fever spiked. Felt gentle hands helping her sip water when she woke up disoriented and parched.
By morning, the worst of it had passed. Her fever had broken, and while she still felt weak, the crushing exhaustion had lifted enough for her to think clearly. Which meant she could no longer avoid the conversation they needed to have.
“Feeling better?” Matvei was sitting in the chair beside the bed, looking like he hadn’t slept at all. His usually perfect hair was disheveled, his shirt wrinkled.
“Some.” She sat up slowly, testing her body’s response. “Matvei, about yesterday...”
“About Viktor being at my warehouse.” His voice had gone cold again, professional. The tender man who’d taken care of her all night was gone, replaced by the Bratva leader she’d married.
“He came to see me.” She chose her words carefully. “At your operation a few days ago. Wanted me to disappear with him, start over somewhere else.”
“And you didn’t think to mention this?”
“I told him no.” The words came out sharper than she’d intended. “I told him I could handle staying. That I didn’t need rescuing.”
“But you gave him information about my operations.”
“No.” The accusation stung. “I didn’t give him anything. But he’s not stupid, Matvei. None of my brothers is. If he wanted intelligence on your operations, he didn’t need me to get it.”
They stared at each other across the small space, two people who’d been intimate just days ago now treating each other like enemies.
“I heard you,” she said finally. “On the phone. Talking about the auction, about buying me to destroy my family.”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t deny it. “Irina...”
“Was any of it real?” The question came out smaller than she’d intended, vulnerable in a way that made her want to curl up and disappear. “Any of it at all?”
“It’s complicated.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have right now.”
Using her own words against her felt like a slap. She turned away, staring at the bland hotel art on the wall. “I need some space. To think.”
For a moment, she thought he might argue. But then he stood, straightening his wrinkled shirt.
“I’ll be back to check on you later.”
“Matvei, I said I need space.”
“I heard you.” His hand was on the door handle. “But you’re still sick, still recovering. I’m not leaving you alone in some hotel room indefinitely.”
After he left, Irina sat in the silence for a long time, trying to process everything that had happened. Her body still felt weak, but her mind was starting to clear. And with that clarity came a growing suspicion that had been nagging at her for days.
The nausea came in waves. The exhaustion aseemed to hit her out of nowhere. The way her breasts had been tender lately. She’d attributed it all to stress, to the emotional turmoil of the past few weeks.
But now...
The pharmacy was two blocks away. She forced herself to get dressed, to walk there on unsteady legs, to buy what she needed with hands that shook slightly. Back in the hotel room, she stared at the pregnancy test like it might bite her.
