Chapter 10 - Matvei
The morning sun caught the copper pipes of the distillery like burnished gold, casting everything in warm, honeyed light that made the whole operation look almost romantic.
Almost. If you could ignore the armed guards positioned at strategic intervals and the very real possibility that one wrong move could result in federal raids, prison sentences, or worse.
Matvei watched from the catwalk as Irina moved through the facility below, her dark hair catching the light as she bent over a clipboard, asking questions with the kind of focused intensity he’d only seen her display when she was truly engaged.
It had been three days since he’d first brought her here, three days of watching her transform from the restless, caged woman pacing his marble floors into something vibrant and alive.
“The filtration system is inefficient,” she was saying to Pavel, his operations manager, her voice carrying clearly in the high-ceilinged space.
“You’re losing at least fifteen percent of your yield because the temperature regulation isn’t consistent.
If you adjusted the cooling coils and added a secondary filtration stage here.
“ She gestured to a section of piping with the confidence of someone who’d clearly done her homework.
Pavel, a man who’d been running distilleries since before Irina was born, was nodding along like she was revealing the secrets of the universe.
Which, Matvei supposed, she might be. The suggestions she’d made at their first stop had increased production by twelve percent.
The security recommendations at the second had identified three potential vulnerabilities that they hadn’t even realized existed.
She was brilliant. That much had become increasingly clear with each operation they’d visited. But more than that, she was genuinely excited about being here, about contributing something meaningful instead of being treated like delicate porcelain that might shatter if handled too roughly.
The sight of her like this, confident, engaged, practically glowing with purpose, did something to his chest that he wasn’t prepared to examine too closely.
“She’s got good instincts,” Simon said, appearing beside him on the catwalk with the silent grace that made him such an effective enforcer. “Better than good, actually. Pavel’s been trying to solve that filtration problem for months.”
“I know.” Matvei kept his voice carefully neutral, though something warm and possessive was spreading through his ribcage at the pride in his brother’s tone.
“You know what this means, don’t you?” Simon leaned against the railing, his dark eyes fixed on the scene below. “She’s not just playing house. She’s actually making herself useful.”
The words should have been reassuring. After all, a useful Irina was exactly what he’d been hoping for when he’d first agreed to this plan. A Nikolai insider who could provide intelligence, identify weaknesses, and maybe even turn some of their operations to his advantage.
So why did the thought of using her discoveries against her family make his stomach turn?
“Matvei.” Simon’s voice was quieter now, more serious. “She’s getting under your skin.”
It wasn’t a question, and Matvei didn’t bother denying it. Simon had always been able to read him better than anyone except Anka, and there was no point in pretending otherwise.
“It’s complicated,” he said finally.
“It doesn’t have to be.” Simon straightened, his expression hardening into the ruthless mask he wore when business needed to be handled. “She’s a means to an end. Use her, get what you need, and move on. Don’t let sentiment cloud your judgment.”
Below them, Irina had moved on to examining the bottling equipment, her animated discussion with Pavel punctuated by gestures that were both elegant and precise. She looked like she belonged here, like she’d been born to this world of controlled chaos and calculated risks.
The thought hit him like a physical blow. She did belong here. Not as a prisoner or a pawn, but as a partner. Someone who could stand beside him and make everything better, stronger, more efficient.
The realization terrified him.
His phone buzzed against his chest, the harsh sound cutting through his thoughts like a blade. The caller ID made his blood run cold.
Dmitri Markov. His partner in crime. The man who’d orchestrated Irina’s kidnapping and was currently waiting for updates on their grand plan to destroy the Nikolai family.
“I need to take this,” he told Simon, already moving toward the stairs.
“Matvei Volkov,” he answered, stepping into the relative privacy of the loading dock.
“My friend!” Dmitri’s voice was warm with false camaraderie, the kind of performance that had fooled better men than Matvei. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about our arrangement.”
“Hardly.” Matvei kept his tone carefully neutral. “These things take time. You can’t rush a delicate operation.”
“Delicate?” Dmitri laughed, and there was something sharp in the sound that set Matvei’s teeth on edge. “How delicate can it be? You have the girl. You have access to their family dynamics. Surely you’ve learned something useful by now.”
Through the window, Matvei could see Irina crouched beside a piece of equipment, her face serious with concentration as she examined something that had caught her attention.
She looked so young in that moment, so earnest and unguarded, that his chest tightened with something that felt uncomfortably like protectiveness.
“I’m still gathering intelligence,” he said. “You want this done right, don’t you? Rushing in without proper information is how people end up dead.”
“People end up dead anyway in this business,” Dmitri replied, his voice losing some of its manufactured warmth. “The question is whether they’re the right people.”
The threat was subtle but unmistakable. Dmitri was getting impatient, and impatient partners in their line of work had a tendency to become problematic very quickly.
“Give me another week,” Matvei said. “Two at most. I’ll have everything you need.”
“See that you do.” Dmitri’s voice was pleasant again, but the steel underneath remained. “I’d hate for our partnership to become... complicated.”
The line went dead, leaving Matvei staring at his phone with a mixture of anger and something that felt suspiciously like guilt.
This was business. This was survival. This was exactly the kind of ruthless calculation that had kept his family alive and prosperous in a world where weakness meant death.
So why did he feel like he was betraying something precious?
“Bad news?” Irina’s voice made him spin around, his heart jumping in a way that would have been embarrassing if he’d had time to think about it.
She was standing in the doorway, backlit by the warm light from the distillery, and for a moment, she looked like something out of a dream.
Her hair was slightly mussed from leaning over equipment, there was a smudge of something on her cheek, and her eyes were bright with the kind of satisfaction that came from a job well done.
She was beautiful. Not just physically, though the sight of her never failed to hit him like a punch to the solar plexus, but in a deeper way that had nothing to do with bone structure or styling.
She was vibrant and alive and completely, utterly herself in a way that made everything around her seem more real.
“Nothing I can’t handle,” he said, slipping the phone back into his jacket. “How did the rest of the tour go?”
“Brilliantly.” She stepped closer, her enthusiasm evident in every line of her body. “Pavel thinks we can increase efficiency by twenty percent if we implement even half the changes I suggested. Twenty percent, Matvei. Do you know what that could mean for your bottom line?”
He did know, actually. It could mean the difference between comfortable profit and serious wealth. It could mean expansion opportunities, increased influence, and a financial cushion that provided security for his entire family.
It could also mean using her insights to fund the very operation designed to destroy her brothers.
The guilt hit him again, sharper this time, settling in his stomach like a lead weight.
“You’re incredible,” he said, and meant it more than he’d meant anything in years.
The compliment made her cheeks flush pink, a reaction so genuine and unguarded that it took his breath away. When was the last time someone had blushed at his praise? When was the last time anyone had reacted to him with anything other than fear, calculation, or barely concealed agenda?
“I just see things clearly,” she said, ducking her head with sudden shyness. “My brothers never thought my observations were worth much, but you actually listen.”
The simple statement hit him like a blow.
Of course, her brothers had dismissed her insights.
In their world, women were protected, cherished, and kept safely away from anything that might harm them.
The idea that one might actually contribute to the business side of things would be foreign, even threatening.
But they were idiots. She had a mind like a steel trap and instincts that bordered on supernatural. Any organization would be lucky to have her input.
The realization that he was probably the first person to ever truly appreciate her capabilities made something fierce and possessive rise in his chest.
“Your brothers are fools,” he said, the words coming out rougher than he’d intended.
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.”