Chapter 20 Andrej
ANDREJ
She didn’t say no.
She could have flat-out turned me down, got up, walked away, and asked me to put her on a flight back to Chicago. Which I’d have refused.
But she didn’t.
Sure, she didn’t say yes either. But I caught her with her guard down, and she needs time to consider the implications of marrying into a Bratva family.
The Bratva family potentially responsible for murdering her biological parents.
I didn’t pull the trigger, but I’m implicated by association.
Could I have played it differently? Should I have given her more information, wined and dined her in the banqueting hall, gone down on one knee in a designer suit and delivered a well-prepared speech?
Cartier isn’t impressed by money and the trappings of wealth though.
Actions speak louder than words, and I’ll never stop trying to prove to her what she means to me.
Snow crunches underfoot, hardened by the sub-zero temperatures that continue to fall overnight.
I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours, but I can’t relax while Yuri Asimov is playing his waiting game.
His goal will have altered with Cartier’s disappearance.
He played his Ace too soon, and it backfired on him because his niece wasn’t interested in playing his game, and men like him alter the rules to suit themselves.
They’re not true Bratva.
Men like Yuri Asimov allow power and money to override everything else in life. They preach about the importance of family without truly believing it. They speak about revenge and loyalty and alliances, and all the while they’re envisioning their own rise to the top.
When I brought Cartier to Russia, I feared that she would get caught in the crossfire of a war that began generations ago. But now… Now my gut is telling me that the woman I’m madly, hopelessly, devotedly in love with has a target on her own back, and I won’t rest until I know that she is safe.
My security team has been with us for decades, running the Russian side of the operation since my father inherited the business. This should give me peace of mind; my father trusted them with his life, and the lives of his family.
But Leonid and I have the outlook of a younger generation, one in which switching allegiance has become as commonplace as switching grocery stores when a better offer comes along.
Trust no one.
Accept full responsibility.
It has served us well so far.
I peer back at the house. It’s a fortress.
There is a route out of the property underground, but the only people aware of it are family.
Me, Leonid, Victoria, and our parents. I’ll tell Cartier to use it as a last resort, but if—when—Yuri Asimov comes for me, I won’t run like a rat on a sinking ship.
I’ll make sure that he gets what he deserves.
Then, Cartier will be free.
Because I want her to choose me. I want her to consider all her options, to have the freedom to go anywhere in the world and still choose me.
A figure emerges from the shadows of the trees, and my gun is raised to chest height, my finger on the trigger before the adrenaline kicks in.
Ivana.
Fuck! I need to get some sleep. Or caffeine. Or both.
I lower the gun. “I told you to get some rest.”
She stands beside me, peering back at the house across the snowy landscape. “I think we should go back to America.”
“Cartier is safer here.”
She sucks in a breath and holds it. I count the seconds waiting for the fine white mist of her exhale to appear. I reach five before it happens.
“Maybe. But we have more resources in Chicago.”
I study her profile. “Talk to me, Ivana. If you’ve found a weakness, I need to know about it.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Maybe, but you’re avoiding eye contact—” more so than usual “—which makes me think that there is something to talk about, but you don’t know how to say it.
If it concerns Cartier, then it will be better for all concerned if you get it off your chest. I know that you and she are not exactly close but—”
“Fuck off, Andrej.” Her eyes are almost completely black when she looks at me. “You think that’s what this is about? You don’t know me at all, do you?”
The disappointment in her tone presses down on me, adding to the fatigue blurring the edges of my vision.
“What is it about then?”
“Nothing. Forget it.”
I’ve lost her. The barriers are up, and they’ll only come back down for her sister or Leonid. Then it dawns on me how blind I’ve been.
“You can go back to Chicago if you’re missing Tamara. The private jet is at your disposal. You can fly out tomorrow, if that’s what you want. I know it’s the holidays; I’ll handle things here.”
Ivana doesn’t look at me. She disappears back into the shadows without another word, ignoring both my suggestion to go home and my advice to rest.
The twins have been around since they were kids, but the only interaction I’ve ever had with them has been strictly professional.
When Leonid first recovered them from the port, they refused to speak to anyone but him.
It was months before they even made eye contact with our mother, but by this point, the bond between them and my brother had been forged out of indestructible metal.
No one questioned it. He took them under his wing, molded them into the cold enforcers that they are, and apparently it was enough for them. He gave them a home, safety, and security, and they hero worship him from afar.
Doesn’t mean I understand what’s going on with Ivana right now.
Still flummoxed by the conversation, I arrange for a bodyguard to take my place and head back inside the house to check the underground tunnel again and get some caffeine.
The heat inside the house makes me feel lethargic. So, I down my black coffee quickly and head upstairs to the bedroom first to check on Cartier.
I expect to find her asleep, but the bedroom is empty. I try the library next—perhaps she’s reading to take her mind off the proposal. The library is empty too.
I find Cartier in the den as usual, a Christmas movie on the TV, her legs curled underneath a blanket.
“Couldn’t sleep?” I enter the room, closing the door behind me to contain the heat from the log fire.
She makes room for me on the sofa, and I sit down, keeping my distance, as difficult as it is to keep my hands off her. I’ve overwhelmed her enough already.
“I spoke to Gianna earlier.”
Alarm bells should ring inside my head, but something inside my twisted heart has recognized the softness in her expression and the sparkle in her eyes, and I cling to them like a drowning man who just realized he might be saved after all.
“What did she say?”
“Only that she is from a mafia family too.” She scrunches up her nose, watching me, and damn if it isn’t the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.
“I could study your lips all day.”
“Andrej! Did you hear what I just said?”
Fuck! I’m more tired than I realized.
“Gianna is a mafia printzessa. I heard.”
“You knew?”
I shrug. “I figured she’d tell you when she was ready.”
She shakes her head. “How did I not know this? Am I really that stupid?”
“Cartier, no one could ever accuse you of being stupid. You’re the smartest, brightest, kindest person I know. Gianna is your friend. You see the parts of her that no one else gets to see, so it was easy for her to keep that side of her life separated from her friends.”
“What about you?” She sucks on her bottom lip. “I just thought that you were a bad boy.”
“Do you make a habit of fantasizing about bad boys in hospital rooms?”
Her cheeks instantly become rosy. “Only those who I think will live up to the fantasy.”
I lean closer. The cozy blanket, the flickering flames, the fairy lights creating gold highlights in Cartier’s hair, the playfulness in her tone, I’m finding them harder to resist by the second.
“And did I?”
“Every time,” she whispers. “And more.”
I smile. “More, huh?” My lips brush hers. “I’ve barely gotten started.”
She swallows. “I’m counting on it.”
Our mouths crash together. I fist her hair, holding her close and tilting her head back as she wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me down onto the cushions with her.
Then I feel something cold against the back of my neck and freeze.
I grip her wrists and lower her arms to see her finger, the emerald in the center of the engagement ring shimmering like the surface of a pool in sunlight.
“The ring.”
It isn’t often that I’m lost for words. If I have nothing to say, I generally find it easier to remain silent. But right now, with the ring reflecting the flames in the fireplace, there’s a whole bunch of stuff I want to say, but I can’t find the right words for.
“Yes.” Her gaze locks onto mine, and I can’t tell if the tears are in her eyes or mine.
“Yes, you’ll marry me?”
“Yes, I’ll marry you. If the offer still stands.”
I cut her off with a kiss. The ring shouldn’t change a thing, but it does.
I’m kissing my fiancée. I’m kissing the most beautiful woman in the world who just agreed to marry me.
I’m kissing the woman who trusts me with her life, who woke up in Russia and didn’t freak the fuck out and try to escape, who showed me how to build a snowman and lose gracefully in a snowball fight.
“The offer would stand for the next fucking hundred years,” I pull away long enough to say. “The offer would still be there if you were gray and wrinkled and using a walking stick.”
She chuckles. “You’d be gray and wrinkled too, don’t forget.”
“I’m a bad boy. I have an image to live up to.”
“Being a good boy might suit you.” She studies my face as if trying to picture me with blond hair, blue eyes, and a Baywatch tan.
“You might not love me as much.”
Amused crinkles appear at the corners of her eyes. “How much do you think I love you?”
“This much.” I raise her hand to my mouth and kiss the ring. “Enough to wear my ring. You realize this means forever, right?”
“Damn. I thought it was only for Christmas.”
I sit up and pull her onto my lap. I love this playful side of her. I could get used to being trapped inside this perfect bubble with her, watching movies, snacking on grilled cheese, fucking in every room while the snow keeps on falling. But it isn’t reality. And playing won’t keep her alive.
“What changed your mind?” I ask.
She straddles my lap, her hair forming a golden curtain around us. “It was always going to be yes, Andrej.”
My heart soars to the moon and back when she says this.
“But Gianna reminded me that you’re not a bad person.”
“Careful, you’ll destroy the image I worked so hard to cultivate.”
She smiles. “Bad boys and bad people are two entirely different things. And you have a good heart in there, Andrej Ivanov.” Her hand rests over my heart.
“Some might not believe you.”
“It’s their loss.”
“Baby, you’ve made me the happiest man in the world. We should celebrate.”
Her eyes slant wickedly. “Not here though. I don’t want to risk Ivana walking in on us again.”
My recent conversation with Ivana flashes through my mind, but I dismiss it.
She said yes. I’m getting married!
I stand up, Cartier’s legs wrapped around my waist and her arms around my neck. “You head upstairs, and I’ll get champagne.”
I don’t want to let her go, but my baby deserves champagne to celebrate.
I watch her disappear at the top of the stairs before heading to the kitchen to grab a bottle of Moet that is traditionally kept in the fridge to celebrate good news.
Two minutes.
I’m practically floating which is why my reactions are a beat too slow. Pain flares in my chest and the world goes black before I even register the movement behind me.