Page 65 of Auctioned to the Russian Pakhan
Matvei had made his decision the moment Irina fell asleep in his arms the night before. She’d curled against him, one hand resting protectively over her still-flat stomach, and something fierce and primal had awakened in his chest. The need to shield her from everything ugly and dangerous in his world had become an overwhelming force.
Which was why, when she suggested over breakfast that they approach her family together about their suspicions regarding the rival, he’d shut her down immediately.
“Absolutely not.” He set his coffee cup down harder than necessary, the ceramic clicking against the marble counter. “You’re pregnant, Irina. You’re not getting anywhere near this mess.”
Her fork paused halfway to her mouth, loaded with the eggs he’d insisted she eat. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I’ll handle this myself. Your family, the rival, all of it. You need to focus on taking care of yourself and our baby.”
The dangerous quiet in her voice should have warned him. “I see. So now that I’m carrying your child, I’m suddenly too fragile to think for myself?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s exactly what you said.” She set her fork down with deliberate precision. “Last night you promised we’d face everything together. This morning, you’re trying to lock me in a tower.”
Frustration clawed at his chest. Why couldn’t she understand that he was trying to protect her? “This is different. The stakes are higher now.”
“The stakes were always high, Matvei. But now you’re treating me like I’m made of glass.”
He stood abruptly, pacing to the window that overlooked the garden. “You love your family. If something goes wrong, if they don’t believe us about the rival, it’ll destroy you. I won’t put you through that stress.”
“And what if you go in there alone and they shoot you on sight? What happens to me and the baby then?”
The raw fear in her voice made him turn back to face her. She was gripping the edge of the counter, her knuckles white with tension.
“They won’t shoot me,” he said, though he wasn’t entirely certain of that himself.
“You don’t know that. You can’t know that.” She stood, moving toward him with determined steps. “My brothers are protective and paranoid and absolutely ruthless when they think someone has hurt me. If you walk into their territory alone, they might not give you a chance to explain.”
“Then what do you suggest?” The question came out harsher than he’d intended, born from the knowledge that she was probably right.
Her chin lifted in that stubborn way he’d come to recognize. “I suggest we do this together, like we promised each other we would.”
Before he could argue further, his phone buzzed with a text. It was from Irina.
Dinner tonight. Seven PM. That little Italian place on Fifth. Trust me.
He stared at the message, then looked up at her. She was watching him with an expression that was part innocent, part calculating, and entirely too familiar.
“What did you do?” he asked slowly.
“I made us a reservation for dinner.” Her smile was sweet enough to rot teeth. “You love that place.”
“Irina.”
“What? You said you’d handle things yourself. I’m just making sure you’re properly fed while you do it.”
Something cold settled in his stomach. “Who else is going to be at this dinner?”
“Oh, just us.” She paused, tilting her head thoughtfully. “And possibly Viktor.”
“You set up a meeting with your brother?” The words came out as a roar. “Behind my back?”
“Not behind your back. You’re going to be there.” She crossed her arms, unmoved by his anger. “And yes, I called Viktor. I told him we had information about who’s really been attacking both our families, and that we needed to meet somewhere neutral.”
Matvei felt his control slipping. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? If he doesn’t believe us, if he thinks this is some kind of trap...”
“Then we’ll deal with it. Together.” She stepped closer, placing her hands on his chest. “I know my brothers, Matvei. Viktor is the most reasonable of them. If anyone will listen to us, it’s him.”
