Page 56 of Auctioned to the Russian Pakhan
The minutes waiting for the result felt like hours. When the second line appeared, faint but unmistakable, her world tilted off its axis.
Pregnant.
She was pregnant with Matvei Volkov’s baby. The man who’d bought her to destroy her family. The man she’d somehow fallen in love with despite everything.
Panic clawed at her throat. This changed everything. A baby meant she couldn’t just walk away, couldn’t pretend the past few weeks hadn’t happened. A baby tied her to him permanently, regardless of how their story ended.
She was still staring at the test when she heard his keycard in the door again. Without thinking, she shoved the test into her purse and grabbed her jacket.
“Going somewhere?” Matvei stepped into the room, eyeing her with suspicion.
“I told you I needed space.”
“Irina, you can barely stand up straight. Where exactly do you think you’re going?”
“Away from here. Away from you.” The words came out harsher than she’d intended, but she was too panicked to care about his feelings right now.
She pushed past him, not trusting herself to look at his face. If she saw hurt there, if she saw the man who’d held her hair back while she was sick, she might crumble completely.
“Irina, wait.” His voice followed her down the hallway, but she didn’t stop.
She couldn’t stop. Because if she stayed, if she let him take care of her the way he had last night, she’d forget that he’d bought her like property. She’d forget that their entire relationship was built on his plan to destroy the people she loved most.
And now there was a baby to consider. A baby who deserved better than parents who couldn’t trust each other, who’d started their relationship with such fundamental deception.
She managed to lose his security detail in the maze of downtown streets, a skill she’d learned from years of evading her brothers’ protection. But where could she go? Her family’s properties would be the first place he’d look. Her friends were all connected to the family in some way.
That left one option. One person who might understand what she was going through and help her figure out what to do next.
Anka lived in a converted brownstone on the Upper East Side, away from the family compounds and business districts. When she answered the door, her face cycled through surprise, concern, and understanding in seconds.
“Irina? What are you doing here? You look terrible.”
“I need help,” Irina said simply, and felt herself start to crumble. “I don’t know where else to go.”
Without hesitation, Anka pulled her inside, closing the door firmly behind them. The apartment was warm and inviting, filled with books and soft textures that felt like a sanctuary after the sterile hotel room.
“Sit,” Anka commanded, guiding her to a plush sofa. “I’ll make tea. Then you’re going to tell me what my idiot brother did.”
The kindness in her voice was Irina’s undoing. The tears she’d been holding back finally came, great heaving sobs that seemed to tear through her chest.
Anka didn’t ask questions, didn’t demand explanations. She simply sat beside Irina and held her while she fell apart, offering the kind of unconditional support that Irina had been craving.
“He bought me,” Irina said finally, when the tears had subsided enough for her to speak. “At the auction. It was all planned. The kidnapping, the marriage, everything. He did it to destroy my family.”
“I know,” Anka said quietly.
“You know?” Irina pulled back to look at her. “You knew and you didn’t tell me?”
“I suspected. And I tried to talk him out of it, but you know how stubborn Matvei can be.” Anka’s expression was pained. “I hoped he’d come to his senses before anyone got hurt.”
“Well, he didn’t.” The words came out bitter. “And now I’m...” She stopped, the pregnancy test burning a hole in her purse.
“Now you’re what?”
“Pregnant.” The word fell between them like a stone dropped into still water.
Anka went very still. “Does he know?”
