Chapter 19 - Irina
The hotel room felt like a prison of her own making.
Irina had managed to escape the mansion without detection, a skill she’d perfected over years of evading her brothers’ overprotective security measures.
But now, curled up in the sterile bed with scratchy sheets that smelled like industrial detergent, she wondered if freedom was worth feeling this utterly destroyed.
Her body ached in ways that had nothing to do with physical illness. Every muscle felt heavy, like she was drowning in quicksand. She’d tried to eat the room service she’d ordered hours ago, but her stomach had rebelled violently. Now even the thought of food made her nauseous.
But the physical discomfort was nothing compared to the emotional devastation coursing through her. Every time she closed her eyes, she heard Matvei’s voice on that phone call. Cold. Calculating. Discussing her like she were nothing more than a chess piece in his game against her family.
The auction. The kidnapping. The marriage.
All of it had been orchestrated. She’d known their relationship had unconventional beginnings, but she’d foolishly started to believe that somewhere along the way, it had become real.
That he’d started to care for her as more than just a Nikolai he could use.
God, she was such an idiot.
The sound of a keycard sliding through the lock made her freeze. She knew that footstep, that particular way of moving through space like he owned it. Matvei.
“Go away,” she managed, not turning around to face him. Her voice sounded foreign to her own ears, weak and hollow.
“Like hell.”
Even sick and heartbroken, his commanding presence filled the room. She felt the mattress dip as he sat on the edge of the bed, and her treacherous body wanted to lean into his warmth despite everything.
“Jesus, what’s wrong with you?” His voice was rougher than usual, and despite herself, she heard genuine concern beneath the harsh exterior.
“Nothing that concerns you.” The words tasted bitter on her tongue, but she forced them out anyway.
When she tried to sit up, the room tilted dangerously. She pressed a hand to her forehead, fighting the wave of dizziness that threatened to pull her under.
“Bullshit. When did this start?”
His presence should have made her angry. It should have triggered all the rage and betrayal churning in her chest. Instead, she felt pathetically grateful that he was there. That she wasn’t alone in this sterile room, feeling like death warmed over.
“Matvei, please.” The words came out as barely a whisper. “Just... just go. I can’t deal with this right now.”
“Deal with what?”
She laughed bitterly, the sound turning into a cough that shook her entire frame. “You really want to play concerned husband right now?”
“I want to make sure you’re not dying in some shitty hotel room.”
“Why? Afraid you’ll lose your leverage against my family?”
The words hung in the air between them like a blade. She watched his face change, saw the moment he realized she knew the truth.
“Fuck the leverage,” he said quietly, and something in his voice made her chest tighten. “Right now, I care about you.”
The sincerity in his tone was her undoing. Tears she’d been holding back for hours finally spilled over, hot and bitter against her cheeks.
“You don’t get to do that,” she whispered. “You don’t get to care about me now.”
“Too late.” He moved closer, and she hated how much she wanted to lean into him. “I’m here. You’re sick. Everything else can wait.”
When he left to get supplies, she should have run. Should have used the opportunity to disappear again, to put more distance between them. Instead, she lay there like a broken doll, too exhausted to move, too conflicted to think straight.
He returned with water, crackers, soup, and medication.
His hands were gentle as he helped her sit up, patient as she struggled to keep even small sips of water down.
This was the man who’d held her through nightmares, who’d taught her self-defense moves in his private gym, who’d looked at her like she was precious.
This was also the man who’d bought her at an auction to destroy her family.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked after managing a few crackers.
“Because you need it.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have right now.”
The echo of her own words from that night she’d taken care of him made something crack inside her chest. How had they gotten here? How had something that felt so real turned out to be built on such elaborate lies?
“We need to talk,” he said finally.
“I know.” She closed her eyes, leaning back against the pillows. The medication was starting to help, but she still felt wrung out. “But not now. I can’t... I don’t have the energy to fight with you right now.”
“Then don’t fight. Just rest. We’ll figure out the rest later.”
She studied his face, trying to reconcile the man sitting beside her with the cold voice she’d heard on that phone call. “You found out about the warehouse.”
“Yes.”
“And you think I had something to do with it.”
“Did you?”
The question cut deep, mostly because she could see why he’d think that. Viktor had been there. Her brother, who’d tried to convince her to escape. Who’d probably left evidence of his presence deliberately, wanting to send a message.
“Not the way you think,” she said finally.
“Then tell me the way it really was.”
But exhaustion was winning out over everything else. Her eyelids felt like they had weights attached to them. “Tomorrow. When I can think straight.”
She drifted in and out of sleep for hours, semi-conscious but aware of his presence.
He stayed. Even after everything, even believing she’d betrayed him, he stayed.
She felt cool cloths on her forehead when her fever spiked.
Felt gentle hands helping her sip water when she woke up disoriented and parched.
By morning, the worst of it had passed. Her fever had broken, and while she still felt weak, the crushing exhaustion had lifted enough for her to think clearly. Which meant she could no longer avoid the conversation they needed to have.
“Feeling better?” Matvei was sitting in the chair beside the bed, looking like he hadn’t slept at all. His usually perfect hair was disheveled, his shirt wrinkled.
“Some.” She sat up slowly, testing her body’s response. “Matvei, about yesterday...”
“About Viktor being at my warehouse.” His voice had gone cold again, professional. The tender man who’d taken care of her all night was gone, replaced by the Bratva leader she’d married.
“He came to see me.” She chose her words carefully. “At your operation a few days ago. Wanted me to disappear with him, start over somewhere else.”
“And you didn’t think to mention this?”
“I told him no.” The words came out sharper than she’d intended. “I told him I could handle staying. That I didn’t need rescuing.”
“But you gave him information about my operations.”
“No.” The accusation stung. “I didn’t give him anything. But he’s not stupid, Matvei. None of my brothers is. If he wanted intelligence on your operations, he didn’t need me to get it.”
They stared at each other across the small space, two people who’d been intimate just days ago now treating each other like enemies.
“I heard you,” she said finally. “On the phone. Talking about the auction, about buying me to destroy my family.”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t deny it. “Irina...”
“Was any of it real?” The question came out smaller than she’d intended, vulnerable in a way that made her want to curl up and disappear. “Any of it at all?”
“It’s complicated.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have right now.”
Using her own words against her felt like a slap. She turned away, staring at the bland hotel art on the wall. “I need some space. To think.”
For a moment, she thought he might argue. But then he stood, straightening his wrinkled shirt.
“I’ll be back to check on you later.”
“Matvei, I said I need space.”
“I heard you.” His hand was on the door handle. “But you’re still sick, still recovering. I’m not leaving you alone in some hotel room indefinitely.”
After he left, Irina sat in the silence for a long time, trying to process everything that had happened. Her body still felt weak, but her mind was starting to clear. And with that clarity came a growing suspicion that had been nagging at her for days.
The nausea came in waves. The exhaustion aseemed to hit her out of nowhere. The way her breasts had been tender lately. She’d attributed it all to stress, to the emotional turmoil of the past few weeks.
But now...
The pharmacy was two blocks away. She forced herself to get dressed, to walk there on unsteady legs, to buy what she needed with hands that shook slightly. Back in the hotel room, she stared at the pregnancy test like it might bite her.
The minutes waiting for the result felt like hours. When the second line appeared, faint but unmistakable, her world tilted off its axis.
Pregnant.
She was pregnant with Matvei Volkov’s baby. The man who’d bought her to destroy her family. The man she’d somehow fallen in love with despite everything.
Panic clawed at her throat. This changed everything. A baby meant she couldn’t just walk away, couldn’t pretend the past few weeks hadn’t happened. A baby tied her to him permanently, regardless of how their story ended.
She was still staring at the test when she heard his keycard in the door again. Without thinking, she shoved the test into her purse and grabbed her jacket.
“Going somewhere?” Matvei stepped into the room, eyeing her with suspicion.
“I told you I needed space.”
“Irina, you can barely stand up straight. Where exactly do you think you’re going?”
“Away from here. Away from you.” The words came out harsher than she’d intended, but she was too panicked to care about his feelings right now.