Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Maxim
I lean back against the leather couch, watching Artyom pace like a caged wolf, flipping through the contract pages for the third time. His jaw is locked so tight I’m surprised it hasn’t shattered.
My old man always said being the creditor is better than being the debtor. Because the debtor lives every day wondering when the collector will finally come knocking. Right now, I understand exactly what he meant.
I have come to collect.
This plan has been in motion for months. Ever since I fully took the position of Pakhan, things have not been easy. Most of the men in my clan still don’t fully accept me. They see an orphan who was raised by Oleg Orlov, not a true Orlov by blood.
No matter how much blood I’ve spilled for the Bratva, how much money I’ve made them, how many enemies I’ve crushed to make us stronger, some of those bastards still look at me like I’m temporary. Like I can be replaced.
I need this alliance.
That is why I decided tonight was the night. I’ve been watching the Morozov sisters for weeks. I always intended to take the younger one, Milana. She seemed quieter. Softer. More malleable. Easier to control.
But the ride here changed everything. Calina would not shut the fuck up. The entire drive she kept running her mouth, defiant, sharp, fearless even while terrified.
At one point I genuinely considered tossing her out of the moving car just to get some peace. And yet… the most annoying part is that I liked the sound of her voice. Low. Husky. Full of fire. It irritated me how much I liked it.
Now she’s standing in front of me, chin raised, eyes blazing with pure defiance.
“I’ll take Milana’s place,” she repeats, voice steady despite the fear I can smell on her. “I will marry you instead.”
The words hit me harder than I expected.
Shock ripples through me, quickly followed by something darker. Something dangerously close to interest.
I slowly rise from the couch, towering over her. The room goes silent. Artyom looks like he wants to murder me. Milana looks horrified. But I only have eyes for the bold, reckless woman before me.
Calina Morozova.
She’s so small. That’s the first thing that hits me as Calina steps forward and stares me down like she’s the one holding the power in this room. Tiny compared to me, barely reaching my chest, yet she lifts her chin and dares me with those sharp blue-gray eyes.
I study her for a long moment, letting the tension stretch until it’s almost painful.
Then the corner of my mouth twitches. “Interesting,” I murmur, my voice low. “Very interesting.”
A part of me wants to say no. To stick with the original plan and take the younger, quieter one who would be easier to break. But the truth is… I want her. This feisty little thing who talked my ear off the entire ride and still has the balls to offer herself in her sister’s place.
This was never supposed to be about attraction.
This marriage is purely convenience, a way to tie the Morozov name to mine and silence the whispers that I’m not a real Orlov.
But looking at her now, daring me, probably already plotting how to make my life hell, I feel something dangerously close to excitement.
A smirk pulls at the corner of my mouth.
“So,” I say slowly, letting my gaze drag over her, “you think you’ll make a better wife than your sister?”
“Do you have a problem with that?” She fires back without hesitation.
Artyom steps forward instantly. “Calina, stay out of this—”
“No,” she cuts him off, voice fierce. “If he’s going to take one of us, he’s taking me.”
I hold her stare for a long beat, then shrug.
“Fine. I’ll take her.”
Artyom looks like he’s about to explode. “No. There has to be another way to settle this debt.”
I tilt my head. “In case you missed that part of the contract, read it again. I can collect anything I deem fit as payment. And right now, I deem one of your sisters a suitable bride. I’m not interested in anything else.”
He takes a threatening step closer. “Why my sisters? You can ask for territory, money, weapons, anything. We can come to another agreement.”
“No,” I reply calmly. “I want a bride from your family. And that is exactly what I’m going to get.”
Silence blankets the room. Artyom’s mind is clearly racing, searching for an exit that doesn’t exist. I let him stew for a moment, then speak again.
“Milana, and Calina excuse us.”
I immediately shake my head. “None of them are stepping out of this room until I’ve collected what I came for. One of your sisters is leaving with me tonight. And that sister,” I say, locking eyes with Calina, “is going to be you, Calina.”
Artyom’s face twists with rage. “What if I refuse?”
I smile coldly. “Then you’re asking for war. And we both know how that ends.”
He clenches his jaw. “Fine. Then we go to war. You know I will win.”
I lean forward slightly, voice dropping. “Maybe you win in the end. But at what cost? How many of your men will die? How much money and time will you bleed? And when it’s over, do you really think your own clan will still want you as Pakhan for taking them to a war that could have been avoided?”
I watch the exact moment realization hits him. The fury flickers, replaced by cold calculation.
I thought so.
I adjust my coat, and brush a piece of lint from my sleeve. “If there’s nothing else, I’d like to leave with my bride now.”
“She's not yet your bride. You will not touch her,” Artyom growls, stepping closer until we’re nearly chest to chest. “I will find a loophole. I swear to God, if you lay one finger on her before—”
“Oh, don’t worry,” I cut him off, my tone mocking. “I’m a gentleman. I promise not to touch her… until after the wedding.”
I zero my gaze on Calina. “Except, of course, if she wants me to.”
“You wish,” she snarls.
“Calina…” Milana calls, at the point of tears.
“I’ll be fine,” Calina assures, hugging her.
Artyom looks like he wants to put a bullet between my eyes. We stare each other down, breathing hard, the air thick with violence.
“I will find a loophole,” Artyom assures Calina.
“Good luck with that. Time to go.” I reach out and wrap my fingers around Calina’s wrist. The moment our skin touches, something electric shoots up my arm. Her pulse is racing under my fingertips, fast, frantic. Warm.
I feel her sharp little inhale, the slight tremble that runs through her body. She doesn’t pull away immediately, and that alone does dangerous things to me.
Fuck.
What the hell is that?
I’ve touched plenty of women. None of them ever felt like this. Like a live wire straight to my chest. I don’t understand it, and I don’t like things I don’t understand.
I drop her wrist like it burned me the second we step out of the office.
“Move,” I order, my voice rougher than I intend.
Calina glares at me, fire still burning in her eyes, but I catch the way she flexes her wrist where I touched her.
She felt it too. And that realization only makes me want her more.
We pile back into the limo, two of my men, Calina, and me.
Calina sits directly opposite me, exactly where she was earlier. Only now there’s no sister between us.
I can see her nervousness in the way she keeps twisting her fingers on her thigh, in the way her eyes dart around the interior of the car. She’s trying so hard to look brave, giving me that sharp, defiant stare like she can intimidate me with sheer willpower.
Thankfully she isn't talking this time. Then her mouth opens.
“So… are you really that desperate?” she asks, voice dripping with mockery. “You can’t find a single woman willing to marry you, so you have to blackmail one?”
I ignore her, staring out the window.
She doesn’t stop. “You must lead such a sad life. What a pathetic man you are, so undistinguished that no woman will have you. You actually have to force one to become your wife. How embarrassing.”
I slowly turn my head and look at her.
“Shut up.”
“Or else what?” she challenges, lifting her chin. “What are you going to do? If you’re already tired of me before we even started this marriage, maybe you should just take me back.”
Something dark and hot flares in my chest.
I lean forward slightly, my eyes going slowly down her body. The flimsy dress she’s wearing clings to her curves, her full breasts pressing against the fabric with every angry breath.
From here I can smell her, something soft and feminine, warm skin and faint perfume that makes my cock twitch.
I want to reach across this car, grab her by the waist, and drag her onto my lap.
I want to fist my hand in that dark, wavy hair and pull her head back so I can sink my teeth into her neck.
I want to rip that dress down and fill my hands with her tits, squeeze them, taste them.
I want to spread her legs right here and see how wet she gets when she’s scared and angry and fighting me.
Fuck.
I’ve never wanted to ruin someone this badly.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say, my voice low and rough. “Maybe I should take your advice. Turn around and go get your younger sister instead. She seemed quieter.”
Fear flashes across her face for the first time.
“No,” she says quickly. “You’re taking me. Not her.”
I don’t answer. I just keep staring, letting the silence stretch between us while filthy thoughts run through my mind.
I can practically feel how soft her thighs would be wrapped around my waist. How good her hair would look tangled around my fist.
She keeps talking, trying to piss me off, throwing sharp little insults to get a reaction. I tune out every single one of them.
When the car finally stops in front of my estate, I step out first and motion for her.
“Get out.”
She climbs out and looks up at the imposing mansion, lights glowing in several windows. Her lip curls.
“So this is the hellhole you live in.”
I step close, close enough that she has to tilt her head back to look at me. Close enough that I catch another hit of her scent.
I glance up at the mansion as we stand in the driveway. Twenty-two thousand square feet of stone, glass, and steel. And she has the nerve to call it a hellhole.
I turn back to her, one eyebrow raised. “You consider this a hellhole?”
“Yes,” she snaps, arms crossed tightly over her chest. “It is.”
“Fine.” I shrug. “This hellhole is going to be our home from now on. You might as well start getting comfortable.”
“Not if my brother finds a loophole in that contract,” she fires back.
I smirk. “We’ll see about that.”
“I need to go home first. To get my clothes. My things.”
I lean down, my mouth near her ear.
“That place is no longer your home,” I murmur. “You live here now. With me. I’ll get you whatever you need.”
Her breath catches.
I straighten up. “Move, Calina.”
Against my better judgment, I reach out and grab her by the arm to guide her inside. The second my fingers wrap around her bare skin, that same electric shock shoots straight through me, hot, sharp, and impossible to ignore.
Her pulse jumps under my palm. For a split second, I imagine pinning her against the side of the car and tasting that smart mouth of hers.
“Follow me.” I pull her in after me.
The house is quiet when we step inside. All the staff has retired for the night, exactly how I prefer it.
The grand foyer is bathed in low golden light from the crystal chandeliers high above.
Dark marble floors, black and charcoal walls, modern art that cost more than most men make in a lifetime. Everything is cold, clean, and expensive.
I lead her up the wide floating staircase, our footsteps echoing in the silence. She stays a step behind me.
“If you think I’m sharing a room with you,” she says sharply, “you have another thing coming.”
I don’t even look back. “Don’t worry, princess. For now, you’ll have your own room. Right next to mine. Until after the wedding.”
She scoffs. “That is, if there is a wedding.”
I stop in front of the heavy oak door and push it open, revealing the large guest suite I had prepared. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
She steps inside and looks around warily. The room is luxurious, king-sized bed with crisp black linens, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the pool, private marble bathroom visible through the open door.
I lean against the doorframe, watching her.
“This is your bedroom,” I tell her. “The room right next to it is mine. So if you get scared at night… or the monsters come…” My lips curve. “You’re always welcome to come to my bed. There’s more than enough room.”
She looks like she wants to slap me. Or maybe stab me. Her cheeks flush with anger, and it only makes her more beautiful. More dangerous.
I smirk. “Good night, princess.”
Before she can hurl another insult at me, I turn and walk away, closing the door behind me with a soft click.
The moment I’m alone in the hallway, I let out a long breath and drag a hand down my face.
What the fuck have I gotten myself into?
I should have taken the younger sister. She would’ve been quiet. Obedient. Easy.
Instead, I chose the one who’s going to make my life a living hell.