Page 20 of Auctioned to the Russian Pakhan
“She likes you,” Anka observed, and there was something in her voice that made Matvei look at his sister more closely. “That’s unusual. Sofia’s normally shy around strangers.”
“Children have good instincts,” Irina replied, gently redirecting Sofia’s attention away from her jewelry and toward a small toy the child had dropped. “They can usually tell when someone means them harm.”
The statement hung in the air, loaded with implications that everyone present understood. Irina was making it clear that whatever else she might be, she posed no threat to the innocents in his family.
Dinner was a tense affair, with conversation flowing around carefully neutral topics while everyone tried to process the bombshell Matvei had dropped on them. His brothers maintained a polite but distant demeanor, while his sisters made various attempts to draw Irina into the family dynamic.
Throughout it all, Irina maintained her composure with the kind of grace that came from a lifetime of high-stakes social situations. She answered questions about her background with careful honesty, deflected more pointed inquiries with humor, and somehow managed to make conversation with eight different personalities without ever appearing ruffled.
It was, Matvei realized, a masterclass in social manipulation. She was giving them just enough truth to seem genuine while revealing absolutely nothing that could be used against her or her family. It was exactly the kind of performance he would have expected from a woman raised in their world.
So why did it bother him so much to watch her deploy it?
“Matvei,” Anka’s voice cut through his brooding thoughts. “Could you help me in the kitchen for a moment?”
He knew that tone, knew exactly what kind of conversation awaited him in the privacy of the kitchen. But there was no avoiding it, not when his sister was wearing her most dangerous smile.
“Of course,” he said, excusing himself from the table with the kind of casual confidence that fooled no one.
The kitchen was empty when they reached it, the usual chaos of dinner preparation having been cleared away by the efficient staff his mother had trained decades ago. Anka set Sofia down in her high chair with a handful of toys, then turned to face him with an expression that could have melted steel.
“Irina Nikolai,” she said without preamble. “The youngest daughter of our biggest rivals. The one person whose disappearance would cause the most chaos in their organization.”
Matvei kept his expression carefully neutral. “Your point?”
“My point is that you didn’t marry her for love, Brother.” Anka’s voice was deceptively calm, but he could see the anger building in her dark eyes. “You married her because you’re planning to use her to destroy her family. And that, Matvei, is beneath even you.”
The accusation hit its mark because it was true, or at least it had been when he’d first conceived the plan. The fact that his motivations had become significantly more complicated in the weeks since didn’t change the fundamental accuracy of her assessment.
“I know what I’m doing,” he said finally.
“Do you?” Anka stepped closer, her voice dropping to the kind of whisper that somehow carried more menace than a shout. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’ve brought an innocent woman into our family with the express purpose of betraying her. And that’s not the brother I raised, and I’m fucking disappointed.” The reference to their childhood, to the years after their parents’ death when Anka had helped him raise their younger siblings, hit harder than any physical blow could have. She was the one person in the world whose opinionof him actually mattered, the one whose disappointment could still make him feel like a child caught in wrongdoing.
“She’s not innocent,” he said, though even as the words left his mouth, he wasn’t sure he believed them anymore.
“She’s a twenty-four-year-old woman who’s been thrown into a situation she never asked for,” Anka countered. “And if you can’t see that, then you’re not the man I thought you were.”
Through the doorway, he could hear the sound of laughter from the dining room. Not the polite, calculated amusement that had characterized most of the evening, but something warmer, more genuine. His youngest sister Sofie must have said something amusing, because the sound was distinctly feminine and utterly delighted.
“I know what I’m doing,” he repeated, but even to his own ears, the words sounded hollow.
Anka studied his face for a long moment, then sighed. “I hope you do, Brother. Because if you destroy that girl for the sake of business, you’ll lose more than just your soul. You’ll lose your family.”
The threat was delivered with the kind of quiet certainty that made it all the more effective. Anka had never been one for empty gestures or dramatic proclamations. If she said the family would turn against him, she meant it.
“It won’t come to that,” he said.
“See that it doesn’t.” She picked up Sofia, who had begun to fuss in her chair. “Because I like her, Matvei. We all do. And if you hurt her, there will be consequences.”
She left him standing in the kitchen, her warning echoing in the sudden silence. Through the doorway, he could still hearthe sound of conversation and laughter, the warm chaos that had defined his family for as long as he could remember.
When he returned to the dining room, he found the atmosphere had shifted dramatically in his absence. The tension that had characterized the earlier part of the evening had given way to something warmer, more welcoming. His sisters had clearly taken Irina under their collective wing, and she was responding with what appeared to be genuine warmth.
“…so I told him that if he wanted me to wear the dress, he’d have to catch me first,” Irina was saying, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I spent the entire afternoon hiding in the wine cellar while he and Kostya turned the house upside down looking for me.”
“You didn’t,” Raya gasped, clearly delighted by the story.
“I absolutely did. And when they finally found me, I’d drunk half a bottle of Papa’s best vintage and was in no condition to wear anything, let alone the ridiculous pink monstrosity they’d picked out.”
