Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Kirill
Most people would've pissed themselves by now. Or gone into full-blown hysterics.
But this woman—Harper, the caregiver who couldn't even look me in the eye most days—stood there with her arms spread wide, shielding my grandmother Olga like a human shield.
She was shaking like a leaf. Made her body even more noticeable.
I swear I never thought twice about my grandmother's nurse, but I'm still a man. And I could appreciate what she was working with.
"You're safe now." I let myself stare a bit longer before dragging my eyes away. "It's over."
The sound of my voice seemed to snap whatever was holding her together. She slid down the wall and collapsed.
"Kirill?"
Olga's voice cut through from behind Harper. The old woman pushed past her would-be protector, smoothed her hair with practiced elegance, and fixed those sharp gray-blue eyes on me.
"How generous of you to grace us with your presence." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten all about your grandmother rotting away in this nursing home. Guess it takes a gun to my head—or maybe my funeral—to get the great Pakhan to show his face."
I holstered my gun and raised both hands in surrender. She was the only person alive who could make me do that.
"I'm sorry, Olga. We've had some... complications with a shipment." I reached for her arm. "This place isn't safe anymore. If they got in once, they'll come back. You need to come home. Now."
"I'm not going back to that tomb." She slapped my hand away. "That manor's dead as a graveyard. Not a soul to talk to. You want me back there? Get married. Otherwise, I'd rather die here."
"Can we discuss this later?" I rubbed my throbbing temples. "Right now, for your safety—"
"For my safety, you should be checking on her!" Olga jabbed her cane toward Harper on the floor. "This girl threw herself between me and a gun. Without her, you'd be planning my funeral right now instead of lecturing me about security. Where the hell are your manners? Did you lose them somewhere?"
I paused. Followed the line of her cane back to Harper.
She'd curled into herself on the floor, trying to disappear. That reckless courage from moments ago had burned off with the adrenaline, leaving behind the timid nurse I knew.
Her clothes were torn. Her neckline gaped open. With each ragged breath, the soft curves she usually kept hidden moved in a way that made my mouth go dry.
I let my eyes linger on that strip of pale skin. Two seconds too long.
I'd never really looked at her before. Just registered "decent body" and moved on. But seeing her like this, broken and terrified... I realized this fragile woman had just done what half my well-paid guards wouldn't dare.
In this city of backstabbers and mercenaries, loyalty was goddamn rare.
I found myself softening. Crouched down to her level.
"You're hurt." I studied her swollen cheek and kept my voice gentle. "Can you stand?"
Harper's head snapped up. Those wide doe eyes filled with panic.
"I'm fine, Mr. Orlov. Really. I'm okay."
"Boris." I stood, ignored her protests, and called toward the door.
Boris's massive frame appeared instantly, followed by a team of "cleaners" in black suits. They carried toolboxes and worked with practiced silence, erasing the bodies and blood from the scene.
"Take Miss Evans next door. Patch her up."
Boris moved toward Harper, but she scrambled to her feet, hands up, backing away.
"No! That's not necessary!" She was trembling. "Really, I'm fine! Just a scratch. A band-aid, that's all I need."
She clutched her torn collar closed, eyes darting everywhere, desperate to escape this crime scene.
I frowned.
As a businessman, I solved problems the practical way. She saved Olga's life. She didn't leave here empty-handed.
"Wait."
I stopped Harper mid-escape.
She froze. Turned back. Her eyes screamed please let me go.
I pulled out my checkbook, voice neutral. "Miss Evans. You did well tonight. As compensation for your... trauma—"
I uncapped my pen, held it over the check, and looked up at her.
"How much do you want?"
Harper stared. Her expression shifted from terror to confusion.
"I don't want money!" She shook her head violently, hands waving. "I saved Madam Olga because she's my patient. Because she's been good to me. This isn't about money! Please don't—"
I studied her.
Doesn't want money?
Everyone wants money. Especially someone like her, scraping by on an aide's salary. This was negotiating. Playing hard to get.
I wrote a number. Tore off the check. Held it out.
"Take it. Two years' salary."
"No, really, I can't..." She backed away, hands behind her back.
Not enough?
My patience was wearing thin. Everyone had a price. "No" just meant the offer wasn't high enough.
I wrote another check. Shoved both into her hands. Didn't give her a choice.
"Don't be greedy, Miss Evans."
She stopped. Looked down at the slips of paper in her hands. Saw the numbers. Her eyes went wide.
Finally, slowly, her fingers closed around them.
"Thank you." She bit her lip. Barely whispered it.
I felt... nothing. Disappointment, maybe. If she'd held out just a little longer, she might've been interesting. I might've given her something worth more than money—my protection. My respect.
But no. She was like all the others. Just another person who'd bend for cash.
"Good. We're square."
I turned away from her and spoke to Boris. "Get Miss Evans out of here. Back exit. Keep it quiet."
Harper clutched the checks, opened her mouth like she wanted to say something. A small sound caught in her throat. But in the end, she said nothing.
"Yes. I'll go now."
She spun around too fast. Something pink slipped from her pocket and fluttered to the floor.
An envelope. Covered in crude hand-drawn hearts.
I frowned. Before I could speak, Olga's cane shot out and pinned it down.
"What's this?"
Olga bent down and picked it up. She examined it, then looked at Harper's flushed face with an expression I couldn't quite read. Amused. Knowing.
She waved the envelope. "Looks like some lucky boy's getting a surprise."
"I'm sorry! That's private!"
Harper practically lunged for it, snatched it back, and pressed it against her chest.
"Goodbye, Madam Olga!"
She bolted from the room like a startled rabbit.
Seeing that pink envelope, I suddenly remembered what day it was.
February 14th. Valentine's Day.
I had zero interest in that fake holiday and its pink bubble bullshit.
Finally alone, I lit a cigarette. Let the nicotine settle whatever the hell was irritating me.
"You're an asshole, Kirill."
Olga watched me with that disappointed look I hated. "You could've handled that better. You just crushed a good girl's dignity. She only took that money for her brother."
"Doesn't matter who it's for. Same result." I cut her off. "Transaction complete. We're even. Now let's talk about our problem."
I crushed out the cigarette, walked to her, voice hard.
"This place is compromised. We cleaned up, but those Italians breed like cockroaches. You're coming back to the manor. It has the best security in the city."
"I'm not going back."
"Olga!" I raised my voice. "Stop gambling with your life!"
"I'm not gambling. I'm old, Kirill. I spent most of my life in that frozen tomb. If you're sending me back to live with nothing but bodyguards and servants, no one to talk to, you might as well let those killers come back and finish the job."
She paused. Stared into my eyes.
"I want you married. That's my only condition."
My head started pounding. "We've been over this. Genevie already—"
"I don't mean Genevie. I don't give a damn about that woman who treats you like an ATM." Olga cut me off. "I want you to marry someone simple. Clean background. Like the girl who just left."
She pointed at the door.
"I want you to marry Harper Evans."
I stared at her like she'd lost her mind, then laughed. Couldn't help it.
"Who? The nurse?"
"Her."
"That's insane." I unbuttoned my jacket and paced the room. "I'm not running a charity. You want me to marry some random caregiver? I barely know her."
"Trust my judgment. I'm better at reading women than you'll ever be." Olga crossed her arms. Non-negotiable. "If you don't agree, I'm staying here. And you know those Italians are coming back, right? Next time, you might actually be identifying my body at the morgue."
We locked eyes.
The room went silent.
She was serious. She'd actually die here over this ridiculous demand.
Damn it.
I took a deep breath. Forced myself to think.
Olga knew exactly how important she was to me. She was the only family I had left. Her safety came first. She raised me after my parents died. Without her, I'd be nothing. Everything I built—gone.
Fine. If I needed a wife, if it wasn't going to be Genevie, then what did it matter who?
"Fine."