Page 17 of Dragon Billionaire

“I’ve got your back,” he said.

“I believe you.”

And she did. She just hoped it was enough.

Chapter 7 - Zeke

He’d been all support and encouragement the night prior because what other role could he possibly assign himself except that of the responsible male? He’d meant every word, but he hadn’t voiced his underlying worry that the very last thing either of their fathers would be able to do in the situation was to see sense. Not that they were going to take any fury out on Anna, but rather that they’d direct their not inconsiderable and now combined forces to wipe the entire Kuznetsov family out, hitmen, henchmen and all. The war that their mated children were meant to prevent would go from averted to full-scale in a matter of hours. And Anna’s worst fears would come true.

So, it was with a heart heavy, with misgivings, that he walked with Anna by his side into his father’s house the following morning. They had gotten heads turning after them the second they entered the property—the gardeners, the drivers. As they walked through the front door, the household staff all paused their step, even though they were discreet about it. Of course, they all knew the mating bond had been manufactured, but he supposed they still hadn’t expected to see the newly bound leaving the sanctuary of his bedroom for another few days at least. Possibly even a week. Dragons didn’t go on honeymoons the way humans did—they shut themselves away into a proverbial den of newly bound bliss.

None of that for Anna and him.

He felt a pang of guilt.

What a disappointment it must be to her. All of it. From getting told who her future mate was going to be, to the rushed ceremony, the threat of Nikolai hanging over her for most of it, and then the night of her bonding proving less than intimate. Of course, she’d told him she’d never…

He glanced at her, unable to keep from clearing his throat lightly, self-conscious about how his body was moving. He felt it was taking up too much space. Why was he so large and cumbersome? He must seem like a big log next to her. Like he would crush her. Then again, perhaps he kept underestimating her. He’d done it before, thinking of her too much as someone in need of his protection. She was a grown-ass woman. And she’d stood her ground the night prior and managed to distract him from getting the answers he’d required. The memory of how her eyes had stayed on his with that fierce determination, the likes of which he’d never seen on her before, sent a soft thrill through him.

Before he could stop himself, he’d reached for her hand. Palm to palm he knitted their fingers together. She didn’t hesitate before she reciprocated his hold, their eyes meeting.

Whatever they were about to face, they would face it together.

His father’s study was made up of two rooms. The first room was the largest. High ceilings and wooden floors. It was where his father met with important business partners, decorated in dark green, plush furniture arranged around a low glass table in the middle of it. This was a room that was about displaying his father’s distinctive and fine taste in art, his sophisticated understanding of mood lighting, an invitation to be conspiratorial. His guests were already in the belly of the beast, often plied with the finest booze, and more than one tongue had loosened within its walls. For these meetings, the large, wooden sliding doors remained closed, the vine of blooming jasmine hidden from view.

Today, the double doors were open. The smaller room beyond was the study where Zeke had stood before his father’s stupidly oversized desk two nights ago. It was an imposing space, not because it was grandiose, but rather because it was the opposite. It was much closer to who his father truly was, echoing his character in unsettling ways. From the paintings depicting great Russian battles throughout history to the heavy furniture that could easily crush a man, his father’s preferences were etched into every nook and cranny. Zeke associated the scent of the flowers to Semyon’s capacity for deceit, a representation of the sugary smile he would offer while sharpening the knife he was about to stick in any adversary’s back.

Or perhaps he was overthinking it.

He had a tendency to do that when it came to his father.

“What’s this about?” Semyon didn’t wait to let his impatience be known, Zeke and Anna barely having stopped before his desk.

Pietr Aslanov stood next to the desk, back rigid, mouth turned downward in a disapproving expression that made Anna’s hold on Zeke’s hand harden. Pietr wasn’t a tall man, nor was he a very broad-shouldered man, but the years he’d spent in power radiated off him, making him seem bigger. He was known for giving anyone who trifled with him a very quick end, and the threat of violence was like a halo around his head. He was never rattled. The years Zeke had spent in the Aslanov household he’d never seen Pietr display even an ounce of anger, but his often cold observations and quiet conclusions were all the more unnerving.

“You’re not here to ask for a pair of scissors, are you? Or a knife? The bond you’ve created can’t be severed. You know that,” Pietr’s voice was like gravel crunching underfoot, coarse and used at the back of his throat.

“We’re not here for scissors, sir,” Zeke said.

“Then why are you here?” Semyon demanded.

“Well,” Anna began, but Zeke interrupted her by reaching his hand out, wiggling his fingers at her.

“Give me your phone,” he requested, her eyes meeting his with a question in them.

She hesitated for only a moment before she relented. There was relief there. Instead of having to put it into words, they could simply show their fathers the reason they’d requested a meeting. It wasn’t exactly a sit-down, but it was as close as they were going to get. It would have been better to have more of their people gathered in the same place, to partake of the information that was about to be shared. They would have to come up with a plan on the spot, Zeke knew that.

At least he hoped for it.

He brought up the messages from Nikolai, handing the phone to his father.

Semyon read through them, his quizzical and somewhat skeptical expression slowly hardening until his face was a mask of barely held-back fury, his green eyes blazing. He looked moments away from shifting, tendrils of dark-red fire tracing itself through the veins beneath his skin.

Fuck.

Semyon handed the phone to Pietr. The second Pietr caught sight of Semyon’s reaction to whatever he was reading, the disapproval on Pietr’s face had been exchanged for raising alarm. This was his daughter’s cell phone, after all. Whatever was on it was sure to impact him and his family name. The alarm had nothing to do with insecurity—rather with the possibility of shame befalling him. Zeke knew this because he’d seen the same expression on his father’s face when he’d told him he was going to medical school.

Once Pietr had finished reading, unlike Semyon, the only thing aglow on him were the irises of his eyes, the fire of his inner dragon burning as he directed his gaze at Anna.

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