Page 30 of Auctioned to the Russian Pakhan
Matvei’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained maddeningly calm. “I said what needed to be said to keep the peace. Your brothers were looking for any sign of weakness.“
“So you threw me under the bus to maintain your reputation?” The hurt in her voice was raw and undisguised. “You made me sound like a prize you’d won in a poker game.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Do I?” She was shouting now, all her careful composure finally cracking apart. “Because from where I was sitting, it sounded like you were making it very clear that I’m property. Your property, specifically.”
She turned and headed back up the stairs, but this time she moved faster, taking the steps two at a time in her desperation to get away from him. She could hear his footsteps behind her, could feel him gaining ground despite her head start.
She made it to their bedroom and slammed the door behind her, but before the lock could catch, his hand shot out and stopped it from closing. The door rebounded with enough force to make her stumble backward, and then he was there, filling the doorway with his presence and his barely controlled energy.
“We’re not done talking,” he said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him with deliberate care.
“Yes, we are.” She crossed her arms over her chest, a defensive gesture that felt pathetically inadequate. “I’m tired, I’m upset, and I don’t want to hear any more about how I’msupposed to be grateful for being purchased like a piece of furniture.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
The dismissal was the last straw. Something inside her chest exploded like a supernova, filling her with a rage so pure and bright it was almost beautiful.
“Ridiculous?” Her voice was dangerously quiet now, the kind of calm that preceded hurricanes. “I’m being ridiculous for wanting to be treated like a human being instead of a commodity?”
“That’s not what I—”
“That’s exactly what you did.” She stepped closer, close enough to see the way his pupils dilated as she invaded his personal space. “You sat there tonight and talked about me like I was a prize you’d won at a carnival. You used words like ‘purchased’ and ‘custody’ like I was a pet you’d adopted from a shelter.”
“I was protecting you,” he said, his voice rising to match hers. “Do you have any idea what your brothers would have done if they thought for one second that you were there against your will? There would have been blood on the walls before the appetizers were served.”
“So you protected me by making it clear that I have no agency in my own life?”
“I made it clear that you’re under my protection, which you are. Whether you like it or not, you’re my responsibility now.”
“Your responsibility.” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Not your wife. Not your partner. Your responsibility.”
Something shifted in Matvei’s expression, a crack in that perfect control he wore like armor. “You are my wife.”
“Am I? Because tonight it sounded like I’m more of a... what did you call it? A business arrangement?”
“You’re twisting my words.”
“I’m repeating them.” She was close enough now to see the pulse jumping in his throat, close enough to catch the scent of his cologne mixed with something darker and more elemental. “Tell me something, Matvei. When you look at me, what do you see? A person, or a problem to be managed?”
For a moment, he didn’t answer. In the silence, she could hear her own breathing, could feel the heat radiating from his body, could see the way his hands were clenched into fists at his sides like he was fighting some internal battle.
“I see,” he said finally, his voice rough with something she couldn’t name, “the most dangerous thing that’s ever happened to me.”
The admission hung between them like a live wire, crackling with implications that made her chest tight and her pulse race. This wasn’t what she’d expected him to say. This wasn’t the cold calculation she’d been accusing him of.
“Dangerous how?” she whispered.
“Because you make me want things I can’t have,” he said, and his voice was so raw it made her throat ache in sympathy. “Because you make me question everything I’ve built, everything I’ve sacrificed to keep my family safe. Because when I look at you, I forget that this was supposed to be about business.”
“Was supposed to be?” The past tense made her heart stutter in her chest. “And what is it now?”
He stepped closer, and now there was barely an inch of space between them. She could see the gold flecks in his eyes, could feel the heat of his breath on her skin, could practically taste the tension that was thick enough to cut with a knife.
“Now,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “it’s about you. Just you.”
The words hit her like a physical blow, stealing her breath and making her knees weak. This was what she’d been hoping for without daring to admit it, what she’d been afraid to believe might be possible.
