Chapter 16 - Matvei
The phone call came at seven in the morning, cutting through the peaceful quiet of the mansion like a blade.
Matvei had been watching Irina sleep, something that had become an unexpected pleasure over the past few weeks.
She looked younger in sleep, softer, the sharp intelligence that always burned in her ice-blue eyes replaced by something that looked almost like contentment.
But the harsh buzz of his secure line shattered that moment, and he slipped from the bed as carefully as possible, not wanting to wake her. The caller ID made his jaw clench. Dmitri Kozlov.
“You’re late with your report,” Dmitri’s voice was sharp with irritation, the moment Matvei answered. “I expected an update days ago.”
Matvei moved to his office, closing the door behind him before responding. “Things are progressing.”
“Are they? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re playing house with your little Nikolai bride instead of extracting information from her.”
The casual dismissal of Irina as his “little bride” made something violent stir in Matvei’s chest, but he kept his voice level. “These things take time. She’s not going to simply hand over her family’s secrets because I ask nicely.”
“Then maybe it’s time to stop asking nicely,” Dmitri suggested, and there was something in his tone that made Matvei’s grip tighten on the phone. “There are other ways to make people talk, as you well know.”
“That’s not happening,” Matvei said flatly.
A pause. “Excuse me?”
“I said that’s not happening. She’s my wife, not a prisoner.”
Dmitri’s laugh was ugly. “Your wife? Matvei, please. She’s a tool, nothing more. A very pretty tool that you seem to be getting distracted by, but a tool nonetheless.”
The words hit him wrong, made him want to reach through the phone and show Dmitri exactly what he thought of that assessment. “I know what she is.”
“Do you? Because it seems like you’re forgetting the whole point of this arrangement. We agreed to bring down the Nikolais together. You were supposed to use her to get inside information, to find their weaknesses, to give us the leverage we need to destroy them once and for all.”
“And I will,” Matvei said, but the words felt like ash in his mouth.
“When? It’s been weeks, Matvei. Weeks of you playing the devoted husband while the Nikolais continue to expand their territory, continue to be a threat to both our operations.”
“I need more time.”
“Time for what? To fall deeper under her spell?” Dmitri’s voice turned mocking. “I warned you this might happen. Beautiful women make men stupid, especially women who know how to play the victim.”
Matvei’s free hand clenched into a fist. “Watch yourself, Dmitri.”
“Or what? You’ll defend your pretend wife’s honor? Wake up, Matvei. She’s a Nikolai. The moment she finds out what you’re planning, she’ll run straight back to her brothers with everything she knows about your operation. You think she cares about you? You think this is some fairy tale romance?”
The questions hit too close to his own doubts, the fears he’d been trying to ignore for weeks now. Was Irina playing him? Was her sweetness, her apparent contentment, all an elaborate act designed to lower his guard?
“I have it under control,” he said finally.
“You’d better. Because my patience is running thin, and if you can’t handle your end of this arrangement, I’ll find someone who can.”
The line went dead, leaving Matvei staring at his phone and feeling like he’d been punched in the gut.
The worst part was that he couldn’t shake the feeling that Dmitri was right about some things.
He had gotten distracted. He had started caring more about Irina’s happiness than about the original plan.
But was that really such a terrible thing?
“Who was that?”
Matvei spun around to find Anka in his doorway, her dark hair sleep-mussed and her expression concerned. His sister had always been too perceptive for her own good, and from the look on her face, she’d heard enough of the conversation to draw some uncomfortable conclusions.
“Business,” he said shortly, but Anka stepped into the office and closed the door behind her.
“Business that involves pressuring you about revenge plans?” she asked, settling into one of the chairs across from his desk. “Business that involves using Irina for something?”
Matvei cursed silently. “You shouldn’t have been listening.”
“You shouldn’t have been taking calls from Dmitri Kozlov in the hallway,” Anka shot back. “Seriously, Matvei, what are you thinking? Getting involved with that psychopath was bad enough, but now you’re having second thoughts and he’s getting impatient?”
“It’s complicated.”
“No, it’s not,” Anka said firmly. “It’s actually very simple. You married a wonderful woman who’s become part of our family, and now some outside asshole wants you to betray her for the sake of a revenge plan that was always stupid to begin with.”
“The Nikolais are our enemies,” Matvei said, but the words felt hollow even to him.
“Are they? Because Irina doesn’t feel like an enemy. She fits here, Matvei. She’s good for you, good for all of us. She makes you laugh, makes you think, makes you want to be better than just another Bratva leader obsessed with power.”
The truth of her words hit him like a physical blow. Irina did make him want to be better. She challenged him, inspired him, and made him think about possibilities beyond the endless cycle of violence and revenge that had defined his life for so long.
“Dmitri won’t let this go,” he said quietly.
“Then maybe it’s time to remind Dmitri that you’re not his puppet,” Anka suggested. “Maybe it’s time to choose what matters more: a stupid revenge plot or the woman who’s sleeping in your bed right now because she trusts you not to hurt her.”
After Anka left, Matvei spent the day in his office, staring at reports he couldn’t focus on and trying to figure out how he’d gotten himself into this impossible situation.
The original plan had seemed so simple: marry the Nikolai girl, extract information, use it to destroy her family, and secure his position as the dominant Bratva power in the city.
But that was before he’d gotten to know her.
Before he’d seen her fierce intelligence, her determination, her surprising resilience.
Before he’d watched her bloom under his attention like a flower finally getting sunlight.
Before she’d trusted him with her body, her vulnerability, her growing affection.
The worst part was that he was starting to suspect she might actually care about him. Not because she was playing some elaborate long game, but because somehow, despite everything, they’d built something real together.
A soft knock on his door interrupted his brooding. “Come in.”
Irina appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray with lunch and wearing a concerned expression that made his chest tighten with guilt. “You missed breakfast,” she said, setting the tray on his desk. “And you look like you haven’t moved from that chair all morning.”
“I’m fine,” he said, but she was already moving around his desk to study his face more closely.
“No, you’re not,” she said gently, her hands coming up to frame his face. “You look troubled. What’s wrong?”
The simple question, asked with such genuine concern, nearly broke him. Here she was, worried about him, taking care of him, and he was sitting here agonizing over whether to betray her family to satisfy the bloodthirsty demands of a man who saw her as nothing more than a tool.
“Just business complications,” he lied, hating himself for it. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
She studied his face for a moment longer, then nodded, but he could see she wasn’t entirely convinced. Instead of pressing, though, she simply leaned down and kissed his forehead, a gesture so tender and trusting that it made his throat close up.
“You work too hard,” she said softly. “Whatever it is, it’ll still be there after you eat something.”
She settled into the chair across from his desk, clearly planning to keep him company while he ate, and Matvei found himself watching her instead of touching his food.
She’d picked up a book from somewhere, and she was reading with the kind of complete absorption that had fascinated him from the beginning.
Occasionally, she’d look up and catch him staring, and she’d smile that small, private smile that made him feel like the most important person in her world.
The guilt was eating him alive.
His phone buzzed with a text, and when he glanced at the screen, his blood went cold. It was from Pavel, one of his lieutenants: Nikolai's warehouse on Fifth Street hit an hour ago. Looked professional. No casualties but significant property damage.
Matvei’s mind immediately jumped to Dmitri. This had his fingerprints all over it, the timing, the surgical precision, the message it sent. He was getting impatient with Matvei’s delays and taking matters into his own hands.
“I have to go,” Matvei said abruptly, standing so quickly that he nearly knocked over his chair.
Irina looked up from her book, startled. “Go where? What happened?”
“Something’s come up,” he said, already moving toward the door. “I’ll be back later.”
“Matvei, wait.” She was on her feet now, catching his arm. “You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”
For a moment, looking into her worried eyes, he almost told her everything.
Almost confessed the whole sordid truth about Dmitri, about the original plan, about the impossible position he’d put himself in.
But then he thought about how she’d look at him when she learned that their entire marriage had started as a revenge plot, how she’d probably never trust him again, never look at him with that soft affection that had become more precious to him than power or territory or anything else he’d ever wanted.
“It’s nothing,” he said, gently extracting himself from her grip. “I’ll explain later.”
But as he walked away, leaving her standing in his office looking confused and hurt, Matvei knew there might not be a later.
Because if Dmitri was escalating things, if he was attacking Nikolai's operations without warning, then the careful balance Matvei had been trying to maintain was about to collapse entirely.
And when it did, everyone was going to get hurt.
The drive to track down Dmitri gave him time to think, time to plan, time to figure out exactly what he was going to say to the man who was threatening to destroy the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Because one thing had become crystal clear during that conversation with Anka, during those moments with Irina in his office:
He wasn’t going to let anyone use her as a pawn in their games. Not anymore.
Even if it meant going to war with a man who knew enough of his secrets to bring his entire empire crashing down.