Chapter 6 - Vasily #2
"It doesn't matter. Pankratov's men were watching you. They were building a file—photographs, addresses, daily routines. If I hadn't taken you when I did, they would have taken you instead. And I promise you, Gabrielle, their hospitality would have been far less comfortable than mine."
"Hospitality." She laughed bitterly. "Is that what you call this? A gilded cage is still a cage, Mr. Chernov."
"Vasily." I reached out before I could stop myself, my fingers brushing against her jaw.
She flinched but didn't pull away—frozen, perhaps, or too tired to fight.
Her skin was softer than I'd imagined, warm beneath my touch.
"My name is Vasily. And I know this feels like a cage.
But I need you to understand—everything I've done, everything I'm doing, is to keep you safe. "
"Safe from your enemies."
"Yes."
"Enemies I wouldn't have if you hadn't decided to stalk me." Her voice trembled, but her gaze held steady. "This is your fault. All of it. You watched me, and they watched you, and now I'm paying the price for your obsession."
The word landed like a blow. Obsession. She wasn't wrong—that's exactly what this was. An obsession I couldn't explain or control, that had driven me to do things I'd never contemplated before.
"Yes," I said again. "You're right. This is my fault. And I'm going to spend however long it takes making sure you don't suffer for my mistakes."
"How long?" She grabbed my wrist, her fingers digging in with surprising strength. "How long are you planning to keep me here?"
"As long as necessary."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have." I covered her hand with mine, feeling the rapid flutter of her pulse against my palm. "I can't let you go, Gabrielle. Not until the threat is neutralized. Maybe not even then."
Her eyes widened at the implication. "You can't keep me forever."
"Can't I?" I shouldn't have said it—shouldn't have let her see how deep this went. But the words escaped before I could stop them, raw and honest and damning.
She jerked her hand away like I'd burned her. "You're insane."
"Perhaps." I rose to my feet, putting distance between us before I did something truly unforgivable. "But you're still alive. And tomorrow, and the day after, and every day until this is over, you'll still be alive. That's all that matters to me."
"It should matter what I want."
"It does." I moved toward the door, pausing with my hand on the frame. "Eat something, Gabrielle. Rest. Tomorrow I'll give you a tour of the grounds, show you the boundaries of your world here. It's not as small as you think."
"It's still a prison."
I didn't deny it. There was no point.
"Goodnight," I said, and left her sitting in the moonlight, her untouched food growing cold beside her.
***
The call came at two in the morning.
I was in my study, unable to sleep, staring at security footage I'd already memorized. Gabrielle had finally eaten—just a few bites of bread and cheese, but it was something. Now she was lying on the bed, curled on her side, either sleeping or pretending to.
The phone shattered the silence, and I grabbed it before the second ring. Semyon's number.
"What?"
"Pankratov knows." My brother's voice was tight with tension. "She's been reported missing in New York—her friend filed a police report this morning. And our sources say the Armenians are going crazy trying to figure out where she went."
I leaned back in my chair, processing. "They know I took her."
"They suspect. They can't prove it, but they're not stupid.
The timing is too convenient." A pause. "They're making noise, Vasily.
Threatening retaliation." Semyon exhaled heavily.
"There's talk of escalating. Hitting our operations harder.
Maybe going after other targets—people actually connected to us. "
"Let them try."
"This isn't sustainable." His voice sharpened with frustration. "You can't keep her hidden forever. Eventually, the authorities will get involved. Her family, her friends—someone will start asking questions you can't answer."
He was right. I knew he was right. The current situation was a holding pattern, not a solution. Sooner or later, I'd have to decide what to do with her—release her, hide her more permanently, or...
The thought crystallized slowly, taking shape like ice forming on a winter pond.
"There's another option," I said.
"What option?"
"Marriage."
Silence on the other end. Then: "You can't be serious."
"If she's my wife, she's protected. Legally, socially, in every way that matters. No one touches the wife of Vasily Chernov—not Pankratov, not the authorities, not anyone. It would bind her to me publicly, irrevocably. It would make her untouchable."
"It would also make her a permanent part of your life. Of our life." Semyon's voice was careful, probing. "Is that what you want?"
I looked at the monitor, at the woman sleeping in my guest room. The woman who hated me, feared me, would probably fight me every step of the way.
The woman I couldn't imagine letting go.
"Yes," I said. "That's exactly what I want."
"She'll never agree."
"She doesn't have to." The words tasted like ash, but I said them anyway. "She just has to say the vows."
Another long pause. "Vasily... this is crossing a line. Even for us."
"The line was crossed the moment I took her." I stood, moving to the window, looking out at the moonlit sea. "This is just following through. Making it permanent. Keeping her safe in the only way I know how."
"And if she never forgives you?"
I thought of her fury, her defiance, the fire in her eyes when she'd called me insane. She would fight this. She would hate me for it, at least at first.
But she would be alive. She would be mine. And in time, perhaps, she would understand.
"Then I'll have a wife who hates me," I said quietly. "I can live with that."
I ended the call and stood in the darkness, watching the waves crash against the cliffs below. Somewhere in the house, Gabrielle was sleeping—dreaming, perhaps, of escape. Of her old life. Of a future that didn't include me.
She didn't know it yet, but that future was already gone.
Tomorrow, I would tell her. Tomorrow, I would watch the horror dawn in her eyes when she realized what I intended.
But tonight, I let her sleep in peace.
It was the last peace either of us would have for a long time.