Page 26 of Auctioned to the Russian Pakhan
Her head snapped up, surprise evident in her ice-blue eyes. “They’re not fools. They’re just... protective.”
“Same thing, in this case.” He stepped closer, drawn by something he couldn’t name and didn’t want to examine. “You have gifts, Irina. Real ones. Anyone who can’t see that is blind.”
For a moment, they stood there in the doorway, the space between them crackling with something that felt dangerous and inevitable. Her lips parted slightly, and he found himself cataloging the exact shade of her eyes, the way her pulse fluttered in the hollow of her throat, the soft sound of her breathing in the afternoon quiet.
Then his phone buzzed again, and the moment shattered like glass.
“We should head back,” he said, stepping away before he could do something stupid. “I’ll have the driver bring the car around.”
But as they walked toward the waiting vehicle, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted between them. Something that had nothing to do with business arrangements or family rivalries and everything to do with the way she’d looked at him when he’d called her incredible.
He was in serious trouble.
By seven that evening, Matvei had made a decision. He was going to take Irina out to dinner. Not because he had any particular agenda, not because it served some strategic purpose, but because she’d spent the last three days making his operations more efficient and his life more interesting, and she deserved to be celebrated.
The fact that he wanted to see her in something other than the practical clothes she’d taken to wearing around the facilities was entirely beside the point.
“Where are we going?” she asked as they settled into the back of the town car, her curiosity evident in the way she leaned forward to peer out the windows.
“Sorellina,” he said, naming one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. “I thought you might enjoy something special.”
The smile that spread across her face was radiant, transforming her features in a way that made his chest tight. “I’ve always wanted to eat there. My brothers said it was too public, too risky for family members to be seen in such a high-profile place.”
“Your brothers worry too much,” he said, and was rewarded with a laugh that sounded like music.
“They do. But I suppose it comes with the territory when you’re in a business where making enemies is an occupational hazard.”
The comment was casual, conversational, but it reminded him sharply of exactly why her brothers’ worries were justified. She was sitting beside him now because she’d been kidnapped and sold, because men like him saw her as nothing more than a tool to be used in their endless games of power and revenge.
Men exactly like him.
The guilt twisted in his stomach again, but he pushed it down. Tonight wasn’t about business. Tonight was about the woman beside him, about the way her eyes lit up when she was excited and the sound of her laughter in the enclosed space of the car.
Sorellina was everything its reputation promised: intimate lighting, exceptional food, and the kind of discreet service that catered to clients who valued their privacy. Theywere seated at a corner table that provided both excellent views and strategic positioning, a detail that Matvei noted automatically even as he tried to focus on being present for the evening.
“This is incredible,” Irina said, gesturing around the elegant dining room with obvious delight. “I feel like I’m in a movie.”
“You’ve never been somewhere like this?”
“Not without an army of bodyguards standing around trying to look casual while ruining everyone else’s dinner.” She grinned at him over her wine glass, and the expression was so mischievous and genuine that he felt something in his chest loosen for the first time in years.
“Well, tonight it’s just us,” he said. “No bodyguards, no family drama, no business concerns. Just dinner.”
“Just dinner,” she agreed, but there was something in her tone that suggested she understood the significance of the promise.
And somehow, miraculously, that’s exactly what it became. For the first time in longer than he could remember, Matvei found himself truly relaxing. The conversation flowed as naturally as the wine, moving from light observations about the food to deeper discussions about books, travel, and childhood dreams.
“I wanted to be a marine biologist,” Irina confessed as they shared a dessert that was more art than food. “Can you imagine? I, spending my days underwater studying fish instead of learning how to navigate family politics.”
“Why didn’t you?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“Reality, I suppose.” She shrugged, but there was something wistful in her expression. “It’s hard to pursue oceanography when you’re not allowed to go to the beach without a security detail. Besides, the family needed me to focus on more practical skills.”
“Practical like what?”
“Languages, mostly. Social graces. How to charm information out of people at parties without them realizing they’re being interrogated.” She smiled, but it was smaller now, tinged with something that looked like regret. “Useful skills for a Bratva princess, less so for someone who wants to study coral reefs.”
The casual way she dismissed her own dreams made something angry rise in his throat. “It’s not too late, you know. You could still pursue it.”
