Chapter 10 - Matvei #2
For a moment, they stood there in the doorway, the space between them crackling with something that felt dangerous and inevitable.
Her lips parted slightly, and he found himself cataloging the exact shade of her eyes, the way her pulse fluttered in the hollow of her throat, the soft sound of her breathing in the afternoon quiet.
Then his phone buzzed again, and the moment shattered like glass.
“We should head back,” he said, stepping away before he could do something stupid. “I’ll have the driver bring the car around.”
But as they walked toward the waiting vehicle, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted between them. Something that had nothing to do with business arrangements or family rivalries and everything to do with the way she’d looked at him when he’d called her incredible.
He was in serious trouble.
By seven that evening, Matvei had made a decision.
He was going to take Irina out to dinner.
Not because he had any particular agenda, not because it served some strategic purpose, but because she’d spent the last three days making his operations more efficient and his life more interesting, and she deserved to be celebrated.
The fact that he wanted to see her in something other than the practical clothes she’d taken to wearing around the facilities was entirely beside the point.
“Where are we going?” she asked as they settled into the back of the town car, her curiosity evident in the way she leaned forward to peer out the windows.
“Sorellina,” he said, naming one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city. “I thought you might enjoy something special.”
The smile that spread across her face was radiant, transforming her features in a way that made his chest tight. “I’ve always wanted to eat there. My brothers said it was too public, too risky for family members to be seen in such a high-profile place.”
“Your brothers worry too much,” he said, and was rewarded with a laugh that sounded like music.
“They do. But I suppose it comes with the territory when you’re in a business where making enemies is an occupational hazard.”
The comment was casual, conversational, but it reminded him sharply of exactly why her brothers’ worries were justified.
She was sitting beside him now because she’d been kidnapped and sold, because men like him saw her as nothing more than a tool to be used in their endless games of power and revenge.
Men exactly like him.
The guilt twisted in his stomach again, but he pushed it down. Tonight wasn’t about business. Tonight was about the woman beside him, about the way her eyes lit up when she was excited and the sound of her laughter in the enclosed space of the car.
Sorellina was everything its reputation promised: intimate lighting, exceptional food, and the kind of discreet service that catered to clients who valued their privacy.
They were seated at a corner table that provided both excellent views and strategic positioning, a detail that Matvei noted automatically even as he tried to focus on being present for the evening.
“This is incredible,” Irina said, gesturing around the elegant dining room with obvious delight. “I feel like I’m in a movie.”
“You’ve never been somewhere like this?”
“Not without an army of bodyguards standing around trying to look casual while ruining everyone else’s dinner.” She grinned at him over her wine glass, and the expression was so mischievous and genuine that he felt something in his chest loosen for the first time in years.
“Well, tonight it’s just us,” he said. “No bodyguards, no family drama, no business concerns. Just dinner.”
“Just dinner,” she agreed, but there was something in her tone that suggested she understood the significance of the promise.
And somehow, miraculously, that’s exactly what it became.
For the first time in longer than he could remember, Matvei found himself truly relaxing.
The conversation flowed as naturally as the wine, moving from light observations about the food to deeper discussions about books, travel, and childhood dreams.
“I wanted to be a marine biologist,” Irina confessed as they shared a dessert that was more art than food. “Can you imagine? I, spending my days underwater studying fish instead of learning how to navigate family politics.”
“Why didn’t you?” he asked, genuinely curious.
“Reality, I suppose.” She shrugged, but there was something wistful in her expression. “It’s hard to pursue oceanography when you’re not allowed to go to the beach without a security detail. Besides, the family needed me to focus on more practical skills.”
“Practical like what?”
“Languages, mostly. Social graces. How to charm information out of people at parties without them realizing they’re being interrogated.
” She smiled, but it was smaller now, tinged with something that looked like regret.
“Useful skills for a Bratva princess, less so for someone who wants to study coral reefs.”
The casual way she dismissed her own dreams made something angry rise in his throat. “It’s not too late, you know. You could still pursue it.”
“Could I?” She looked at him with such surprise that he realized no one had ever suggested such a thing to her before.
“I’m twenty-four years old, married to a man I barely know, trapped in a world where stepping out of line could get people killed.
When exactly would I find time for marine biology? ”
The question hung between them like a challenge, loaded with implications that made his chest tight.
Because she was right, wasn’t she? The life she’d been born into, the choices that had been made for her, the situation she was currently trapped in, none of it left room for dreams about studying fish in far-off oceans.
“Maybe things will change,” he said finally, though the words felt hollow even as he spoke them.
“Maybe,” she agreed, but her tone suggested she didn’t believe it any more than he did.
The moment of melancholy passed as their conversation moved on to lighter topics, but something had shifted between them.
A recognition, perhaps, of the constraints that bound them both.
The understanding that they were both trapped in roles that had been chosen for them long before they’d had any say in the matter.
But despite the underlying sadness of that realization, Matvei found himself enjoying the evening more than he had any right to.
Irina was funny, intelligent, and surprisingly insightful about everything from politics to literature to the psychology of restaurant design.
She made him laugh in a way that felt foreign and wonderful, and when she smiled at him across the table, he forgot about everything except the way the candlelight caught the blue of her eyes.
He was just thinking that this might be the most perfect evening he’d ever spent when the temperature in the restaurant seemed to drop ten degrees.
“Well, well,” a familiar voice said from behind him. “Isn’t this cozy?”
Matvei’s blood turned to ice as he recognized the voice, his hand moving instinctively toward the weapon concealed beneath his jacket. But even as he turned, he knew it was too late. They were surrounded.
Four men in expensive suits had materialized around their table as if from thin air, their positions carefully chosen to provide maximum tactical advantage while maintaining the illusion of casual dining. But these weren’t just any men in suits.
These were the Nikolai brothers.
Ilya stood directly behind Matvei’s chair, his dark eyes promising violence in several creative forms. Kostya was positioned to his left, that easy smile he was famous for nowhere in evidence.
Viktor had taken the spot near the wall, cutting off their most obvious escape route.
And Fedya, cold, calculated Fedya was standing beside Irina’s chair with the kind of stillness that suggested he was three seconds away from painting the restaurant walls with blood.
“Hello, Sister,” Ilya said, his voice carrying the kind of deadly calm that made smart people start writing their wills. “Miss us?”
Irina had gone white as marble, her eyes wide with what looked like genuine fear. Not of her brothers, Matvei realized, but of what might happen next. Of the bloodbath that could erupt in the middle of this elegant restaurant if someone made the wrong move.
“How did you find us?” she whispered.
“We’ve been tracking your new husband for weeks,” Kostya said, his usual warmth replaced by something sharp and dangerous. “Imagine our surprise when we discovered that the man who bought our baby sister is Matvei fucking Volkov.”
The curse word sounded wrong coming from Kostya’s mouth, but the sentiment behind it was crystal clear. They knew exactly who he was, exactly what kind of threat he represented to their family.
What they didn’t know, apparently, was who had orchestrated Irina’s kidnapping in the first place. That was something, at least.
“Gentlemen,” Matvei said, his voice steady despite the adrenaline flooding his system. “I suggest we all take a moment to consider our surroundings. This is a public place filled with innocent people. Surely we can discuss this like civilized men.”
“Civilized?” Viktor spoke for the first time, his voice like gravel. “You kidnapped our sister. Forced her into marriage. And you want to talk about being civilized?”
“I didn’t kidnap anyone,” Matvei replied truthfully. “I bought her at an auction to prevent her from falling into worse hands. The marriage was her choice.”
“Bullshit.” Fedya’s voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried more menace than a shout. “Stand up. We’re leaving. All of us.”
For a moment, the tableau held. Eight people frozen in a deadly dance that could go wrong in an instant. Matvei could feel the weight of concealed weapons, could sense the tension radiating from everybody at the table.
Then he smiled.
“I don’t think so,” he said conversationally.
“You see, this restaurant doesn’t just cater to civilians.
Notice the gentleman at the bar nursing his whiskey?
That’s my cousin Adrian. The couple by the window having what looks like a romantic dinner?
My people. The sommelier who’s been hovering near our table all evening? Also mine.”
He leaned back in his chair with deliberate casualness, making sure they could all see that he was completely relaxed despite being outnumbered.
“So here’s what’s going to happen,” he continued.
“We’re going to finish our dessert like civilized people.
Then we’re going to leave separately, and if you want to discuss this situation further, you can call my office and arrange a proper meeting.
Because if you really want to have a bloodbath in the middle of Boston’s most exclusive restaurant, putting your sister directly in the line of fire, then by all means, let’s see how that works out for everyone. ”
The silence that followed was deafening. Matvei could practically hear the calculations running through each brother’s mind: risks, collateral damage, and the very real possibility that Irina could be hurt in whatever violence erupted next.
It was Ilya who broke first, his jaw working like he was chewing glass.
“Friday night,” he said finally. “Bella Vista. Eight o’clock. You and Irina. No weapons, no backup, just a civilized conversation between family members.”
“I’ll be there,” Matvei agreed.
“See that you are.” Ilya’s eyes were black with promise. “Because if you’re not, we’ll come looking for you. And next time, we won’t be nearly so polite.”
One by one, the brothers melted back into the restaurant crowd, disappearing with the same silent efficiency they’d used to surround the table. Within moments, it was as if they’d never been there at all.
Except for Irina, who was staring at him with something that looked like a mixture of admiration and terror.
“That,” she said finally, “was either the bravest or stupidest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Probably both,” he admitted, signaling for the check. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” But her hands were shaking as she reached for her wine glass. “They’re going to kill you, you know. At dinner on Friday. They’re going to sit you down, feed you excellent food, and then put a bullet in your head.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe we’ll actually talk like civilized people.”
She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “You don’t know my brothers very well, do you?”
“No,” he admitted. “But I’m about to learn.”
As they left the restaurant, Matvei couldn’t shake the feeling that everything had just changed.
The careful balance he’d been maintaining, the delicate game of manipulation and counter-manipulation, all of it had just been blown apart by four men in suits who loved their sister enough to risk everything to get her back.
The question now was whether he was prepared to risk everything to keep her.