Chapter 26 – Roman
It’s been two hours since I returned with my men after a long meeting with the most brutal Bratva clients. These men were feared for their ruthlessness and infamous for double-crossing their partners.
It was a dangerous gig, but these were desperate times for the Bratva, and we needed their alliance. Going to that meeting with only Sergei and a handful of men would’ve been suicide. So, I took as many men with me as I could, just to play it safe.
In the end, I got them to sign the contract, something even a few of the Bratva elites didn’t think was possible. Once again, I proved them wrong by doing the impossible.
The meeting was a huge success, a big win for my folks and me. We were supposed to celebrate later tonight, have a good time, and drown our sorrows in alcohol. I, for one, needed that considering the drama in my life right now.
I’d tried all I could to forget the incident with Scarlett and the pain in her eyes when I said what I said last night. However, the more I tried, the more my own guilt gnawed at me. I knew I crossed the line, and I never should’ve equated her to a worthless piece of shit.
She was just jealous and was acting out the way a normal girl would. I should’ve known better—I should’ve acted better. But in my defense, this marriage thing was new to me, and it wasn’t like it came with a manual or something.
I was still learning about women and their strange behavior. So perhaps these mistakes were a part of the learning process.
It didn’t matter how many excuses I tried to cook up for myself; nothing could validate my actions. I was wrong, and I must fix what I broke.
She thought that she was worthless in my sight and that she was just a sex toy I used whenever I was horny. That misconception sliced through my heart like a knife.
I never thought that ordinary words could ever hurt me so much, yet they did—in the worst way possible. Perhaps it was because she was wrong. The fact that she was able to hurt me and still make me feel guilty for lashing out meant one thing. Her influence over me was stronger than I thought.
In the darkness of my study, I sat quietly, trying to summon the courage I needed to speak to her. I knew she was angry and wasn’t sure what to say when I saw her. My brain was too tired to think of anything at the moment.
I considered going to bed and handling the situation tomorrow. Perhaps I’d come up with a better way to address this after I was well rested.
However, a voice inside me kept whispering to check on her. I tried to resist, saying it was best to speak with her tomorrow, but the voice was persistent. I was exhausted from the meeting and just needed some sleep, but that voice wouldn’t shut up.
Reluctantly, I rose from my chair and headed out. The plan was to just go check on her, and once I was sure that she was alright, I’d then go to bed.
I started by checking my late mother’s painting room, hoping to find her there. But when I arrived, everything was the same way it was yesterday.
The apron she’d slung over the table was still there, untouched. The paintbrush that fell out of her hand was still on the floor—in the same spot. Same thing with the color palette she’d knocked over and the unfinished painting on the tripod easel.
She clearly hadn’t been in here since yesterday.
Next stop was our bedroom.
When I got there, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. Usually, I’d find her snuggled up under the sheets. Not this time. The bed was empty, cold, like no one had lain on it all day. I scanned the room and even checked the bathroom, but there was no sign of her.
My eyebrows furrowed, suspicion etched across my gaze, but I shrugged off the thought that had crept into my mind. Quietly, I walked to the balcony and looked down, hoping to find her at her usual spot in the garden.
She wasn’t there.
My heart skipped a beat, and my grip tightened around the polished railing. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to play hide-and-seek with her this evening. This better not be another one of her attempts to defy me.
I left the bedroom and went straight to the library; maybe she was in there, lost in the pages of a book. Again, it was a dead end.
Panic set in; now I was starting to feel a conflict of emotions: anger, fear, and anxiety. I rushed out of the library, barking orders at my men to search the house until they found her.
I joined the search, and together we looked everywhere but still couldn’t find her. It was clear to me now that she had gotten away—she fuckin’ escaped. Furious, I slammed my fist into the wall, and cracks spread out like spiderwebs at the impact.
“How did this happen?!” I yelled at my men, eyes blazing with anger.
They had no idea because they were with me all day, so there was no way they could’ve known.
Sergei stepped forward. “We’ve checked the CCTV footage, and there’s no sign of her leaving the house. No sign of anyone coming either.”
“Well, check again!” I barked. “There must be something. Someone must have seen her!”
“We’ve questioned all the maids, Boss,” he answered. “No one saw anything.”
“Someone did,” a familiar female voice spoke from behind me.
I turned, and there she was, the housekeeper, Olga, with the maid, Nikki, standing beside her.
“Tell him what you told me,” she said to the girl.
Nikki stepped forward, too afraid to look me in the eyes. “I believe Mia helped Mrs. Tarasov escape.”
“Mia is one of the maids,” Olga clarified.
My brows knitted together, accentuating the frown on my face.
Nikki continued, “I saw Mrs. Tarasov sneaking out of her room last night. And before that, Mia had been acting very suspicious. She’d been making secret phone calls and would disappear for hours without a trace.”
I felt my blood boiling within me. “Where is this Mia now?”
“I don’t know. No one has seen her all day.”
“Boss.” Sergei stepped forward and handed me an iPod. “You might wanna see this.”
I accepted it, and the first thing I saw on the screen was footage of two maids sneaking down the hallway. I couldn’t help noticing that one of them looked an awful lot like my wife.
My middle finger and thumb spread across the screen, zooming in on the photo. Indeed, it was Scarlett, disguised as a maid. My jaw tightened, and I balled one hand into a fist.
“Find Mia,” I ordered. “Now!”
“Yes, Boss.” Sergei walked away.
One by one, everyone else dematerialized, leaving me to my fury and my thoughts. I was a fool not to have noticed the underground movements and her plans to escape. I was so confident that after her first failed attempt, she’d never try to run away again. That was reckless and stupid of me.
I paced back and forth in my study, trying to calm my nerves because the more time we wasted, the further away she got. Scarlett could be halfway across the country by now, and the only way to find her quickly was to find Mia first.
About two hours later, the door slammed open, and Sergei walked in with the culprit. She was pleading when he pushed her inside, and she fell in front of my desk.
“Tell him what you did,” he ordered her, his face twisted into a frown.
Curious, I rose to my feet and walked over to the front of my table.
“Please, I’m sorry—”
“Tell him!” Sergei barked at her.
She flinched at the sound of his voice, her face pale with fear.
I expected her to confess to helping Scarlett find a place to hide or to offer some cash to leave the city. But what I heard was more disturbing than that.
“He paid me to get close to Scarlett, get her to trust me, and then bring her to him,” she confessed, kneeling with her palms clasped together.
“He, who?” I growled, my jaw tightening as I glared at her.
Her throat bobbled, and she lowered her head, her voice dropping to a low whisper. “Lucian Sokolov.”
My blood boiled with rage, fingers curling into fists as I restrained myself from beating her to death with my bare hands. “Take her away.”
Two of my men dragged her out of the room as she screamed, begging for mercy.
The mere thought of Lucian’s filthy hands on my wife only fueled my rage. This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for to exert his revenge. For the first time, I felt it—raw, undiluted fear.
“Round up the men,” he said to Sergei. “We’re going to war.”