Page 23 of Auctioned to the Russian Pakhan
“I can’t,” she said, hating the way her voice shook. “I won’t. This is my choice, and for once in my life, I’m going to see it through. Tell Valentina I’m fine and I’m sorry.”
She ended the call before he could respond, then immediately turned the phone off to avoid the barrage of calls she knew would follow. Her hands were trembling as she set it aside, the weight of what she’d just done settling on her shoulders like a lead blanket.
For the first time since this whole nightmare had started, she was truly alone. Cut off from her family, isolated in a house full of people who saw her as either a threat or a tool, married to a man whose motivations she couldn’t begin to unravel.
The sound of footsteps on marble made her look up, hope flaring briefly before she realized it wasn’t Matvei returning early. Instead, she found herself face to face with one of the household staff, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and calloused hands.
“Mrs. Volkov?” The title still felt foreign, like wearing someone else’s clothes. “Is everything alright? You seem upset.”
The genuine concern in the woman’s voice nearly undid her completely. When was the last time someone had asked about her well-being without an agenda behind it?
“I’m fine,” she managed, the automatic response falling from her lips before she could stop it. Then, because the woman was still looking at her with such gentle worry, she added, “Just homesick, I guess.”
“Ah.” The woman nodded knowingly. “It’s hard, being away from family. Especially when everything is so new and different.”
“Yes,” Irina whispered, surprised by how much relief there was in being understood, even by a stranger.
“If you don’t mind me saying,” the woman continued, stepping closer with the kind of maternal confidence that transcended social boundaries, “maybe you need something to occupy your mind. Something to make this feel more like home.”
The suggestion hung in the air between them, pregnant with possibility. Something to occupy her mind. Something to make her feel useful, productive, valuable.
Something that might actually help her achieve the goals she’d so boldly claimed to Kostya.
“What did you have in mind?” she asked, trying to keep the sudden surge of interest out of her voice.
The woman smiled, and for the first time since the phone call, Irina felt a spark of hope.
By the time Matvei returned that evening, Irina had spent the better part of the afternoon touring parts of the mansion she’d never seen before. The wine cellar, the library, the surprisingly modern office space tucked away in what had once been servants’ quarters. She’d made mental notes of everything, security systems, filing cabinets, computer access points.
If she was going to be trapped here, she might as well make the most of it.
She was curled up in the library with a book when she heard his footsteps in the hallway, the familiar rhythm that had become as recognizable as her own heartbeat. Her pulse quickened despite her best efforts to remain calm, her body betraying her with its automatic response to his presence.
“There you are,” Matvei said from the doorway, his voice carrying a warmth that made something flutter in her chest. “I was beginning to think you’d managed another great escape.”
“Not today,” she replied, closing the book and setting it aside. “Though I did do some exploring.”
Something shifted in his expression, a sharpening of attention that reminded her exactly who she was dealing with. “What kind of exploring?”
“The harmless kind,” she said, rising from the chair with deliberate grace. “Your housekeeper gave me a tour. This is a beautiful house, Matvei. Your family has excellent taste.”
The compliment seemed to relax him slightly, though she could still see the wariness in his golden-brown eyes. He moved into the room with that predatory fluidity she was beginning to recognize, settling into the chair across from hers with casual elegance.
“Find anything interesting?” he asked, and there was something in his tone that made her wonder if he knew exactly what she’d been looking for.
“Several things,” she admitted, deciding that honesty might serve her better than deception. “Your security system is impressive. Your art collection is even more so. And your office setup suggests you handle a lot more than just traditional family business.”
Matvei went very still, his eyes fixed on her face with laser intensity. “Careful, Irina.”
“Why?” The word came out sharper than she’d intended, carrying all her pent-up frustration and restless energy. “Because I might learn something I’m not supposed to know?Because I might actually understand what’s going on around here?”
“Because you might get yourself into trouble you can’t get out of.”
The warning should have frightened her. Instead, it only stoked the fire that had been building in her chest all day. She stood up abruptly, the book sliding off her lap to land on the floor with a soft thud.
“I’m already in trouble I can’t get out of,” she said, her voice rising with each word. “I’m married to a man I barely know, cut off from my family, trapped in a house where everyone looks at me like I’m either going to explode or disappear. The least you could do is treat me like I have a functioning brain.”
Matvei was on his feet now, too, the space between them crackling with tension. “You want to know what’s going on? Fine. You want to understand the family business? I’ll show you.”
