Page 36 of Auctioned to the Russian Pakhan
“Your first real night of freedom since you got married,” Anka said, raising her glass. “To breaking out of cages, even the pretty ones.”
They clinked glasses, and Irina took a sip that burned all the way down but left a warm, pleasant buzz in its wake. “Is that what this is? A cage?”
Anka studied her for a long moment, her expression growing serious despite the party raging around them. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. You tell me, do you feel trapped?”
The question caught Irina off guard. Did she feel trapped? The mansion was beautiful, luxurious in ways that even her family’s wealth couldn’t quite match. Matvei had never forbidden her from leaving, had never locked her in or posted guards at her door. But there was something else, something more subtle, the way he always seemed to know where she was, the way his security was everywhere without being obvious about it, the way she’d started thinking of his approval before making decisions.
“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Sometimes I think I’m the freest I’ve ever been. Other times...” She trailed off, taking another sip of her drink.
“Other times you realize you’re just in a different kind of prison,” Anka finished. “Believe me, I get it. I’ve been fighting the same battle my whole life.”
“But you’re still here,” Irina pointed out. “Still part of it all.”
“Still hoping I can change it from the inside,” Anka corrected. “Still stupid enough to think that maybe if I’m clever enough, strong enough, I can make them see that we’re more than just pretty things to be protected and displayed.”
There was a bitterness in her voice that Irina recognized, a frustration that felt all too familiar. “Your brothers don’t listen to you either.”
“Oh, they listen. They just don’t hear.” Anka drained half her glass in one swallow. “They think they’re being protective, being good brothers. They don’t understand that protection can be its own kind of violence.”
The words hit Irina like a physical blow, because they were so perfectly, devastatingly accurate. All her life, her brothers had wrapped her in cotton wool, keeping her safe from the world but also keeping her from truly living in it. And now here she was, repeating the same pattern with a different man, letting herself be charmed by his protectiveness instead of questioning what it really meant.
“God,” she breathed. “You’re right.”
“I usually am,” Anka said with a self-deprecating smile. “It’s my most annoying quality, according to my family.”
They sat in contemplative silence for a moment, sipping their drinks and watching the crowd. The music shifted to something with a deeper bass line, something that seemed to pulse through the floor and up into their bones. Irina found herself swaying slightly on her stool, the alcohol and the rhythm working together to loosen some of the tension she carried in her shoulders.
“Tell me about before,” she said suddenly. “Before Matvei bought me, before all of this. What was your life like?”
Anka’s smile turned genuine, less guarded. “Complicated. I was in university, studying art history of all things. Can you imagine? A Volkov with a liberal arts degree.”
“That’s amazing,” Irina said, meaning it. “What kind of art?”
“Renaissance, mostly. All those tragic women in paintings, trapped in their golden frames.” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “The irony wasn’t lost on me.”
“Do you miss it? University?”
“Every day.” Anka finished her drink and signaled for another round. “But family comes first, right? That’s what we’re taught from birth. Family, loyalty, sacrifice. Always sacrifice.”
The bartender set fresh drinks in front of them, and Irina found herself studying Anka’s profile in the shifting light. There was something haunted about her, something that spoke of dreams deferred and choices made for the good of others rather than herself.
“What about you?” Anka asked. “What did you want to be when you grew up, before you realized you were going to be a Bratva princess forever?”
Irina had to think about it. Her childhood dreams felt so distant now, so impossibly naive. “A marine biologist, actually. I wanted to explore the ocean, to uncover and tell the stories of marine life and ecosystems that few people ever noticed or understood.”
“Of course you did,” Anka said, but she was smiling. “You’ve got that crusader look about you. Bet your brothers loved that idea.”
“About as much as you’d expect.” Irina took a larger sip this time, feeling the warmth spread through her chest. “Ilya actually laughed when I told him. Said I could run an aquarium or a beach resort if I really like sea animals that badly.”
“Asshole,” Anka said cheerfully. “They’re all assholes, really. Loveable, protective, infuriating assholes.”
“Including Matvei?”
Anka’s expression grew thoughtful. “Especially Matvei. He’s the worst kind of asshole, the kind who thinks he knows what’s best for everyone and actually has the power to enforce it.”
The words should have stung, should have made Irina defensive. Instead, they settled in her stomach like a cold weight, because she was beginning to suspect they might be true.
“But,” Anka continued, “he’s also the kind of man who would burn the world down for someone he loves. The question is whether you want to be loved like that.”
