9. Tatiana
TATIANA
A warm chest cradled me.
We were moving. Words in a language I didn’t care for. Then the heavy shifting of doors and cool air washed over me and a different kind of shudder rolled through me. My eyes opened and landed on the landscape of snow covered ground that stretched for miles.
My eyes darted around in confusion.
“Where are we?” I rasped, my throat dry from sleep. “And why didn’t you wake me?” It had been the running theme lately. Every time I turned around, Konstantin had swooped me up, carrying me like his cherished bride.
He stood at the top of the staircase landing on his plane, readying to depart the plane.
I glanced down and found myself wearing Illias’ dress shirt and someone’s long black wool dress coat.
“It’s my coat. I figured it’d cover your body and keep you warm.
” The deep timbre of his voice warmed my chest. When he ran a thumb across my cheek, that warmth crept into my heart.
“I didn’t have boots that would fit you.
” The cool against my toes registered and I wiggled them.
I was barefoot but Illias managed to tuck the hem of his coat under my feet.
“I ordered you new clothes and everything is being delivered to our home.” He accentuated the word and somehow it related the message that I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear.
Not until I learned exactly the story behind the killing of the woman in his video and behind what happened to Adrian.
I let it go for now, but I needed to uncover the mystery there.
Then I remembered he didn’t answer my question.
“Where are we?” I repeated.
“Home.”
I frowned. “Your home is California. Los Angeles. I don’t think L.A. has ever been covered in five feet of snow.”
“Russia.”
I attempted to pull away from him but he wouldn’t have it. “Russia?” I hissed, pissed he’d bring me here. I hated winters in Russia. I hated the bitter cold. Period. And this guy brought me here .
This had to be a nightmare. I fell asleep with bliss in my bones and soul and woke up in the freeze your ass off motherland. This was what happened when you played with the wrong person. You woke up married and thoroughly fucked in Russia, better yet freezing hell. Chained to the devil.
Jesus Christ!
“This is your idea of a honeymoon?” I shook my head. “I fucking hate Russia. Especially in winter.”
He didn’t pay attention to my protest as he descended the stairs towards a Land Rover waiting for us.
“You were born in Russia.”
“Yes, but I grew up in New Orleans. Warm climate.” A shiver rolled through me. I hated the cold and in my book high forties was too cold. It was in the negatives here, for Pete’s sake. “I demand you take us back. I can deal with California. But not Russia.”
He ignored me as he continued towards the car.
“Konstantin!” I protested. “I’m serious, take us back to the States. Or Fiji. Anywhere, just not this frozen tundra.”
The door to the back of the Land Rover was already opened by the time he reached it and he slid into the seat, sitting me on his lap. I went to slide off his lap, but his grip on me tightened.
“No.”
“I’m not a kid,” I muttered under my breath as two of his men got in the front seat. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“Thank fuck you’re not a kid,” he responded wryly. “But you’re my wife, and I want you close to me.”
I rolled my eyes but kept my mouth shut for the rest of the drive. If there was one thing I learned growing up with my brothers was never argue and dispute the head of the family in front of his men.
So I focused on the landscape. Or lack of it.
The white powder stretched on and on for miles.
Illias didn’t say a word during the ride through the backroads, keeping his attention on his phone.
His men kept their postures stiff and their gazes trained forward, although I caught Nikita’s eyes flicker to the rearview mirror once or twice, but he’d immediately trained them forward.
My brows furrowed. I tried to spot any kind of landmark that would give me an idea of where exactly in Russia we were, but there were none.
At one point, we passed a stone wall with a tall iron fence on top of it with a metal gate that slid open with a loud creak.
The car slowed down and I thought we were home.
Home.
It felt strange saying that word in a foreign country. Unlike Vasili and Sasha, I never considered Russia my home. Even Alexei spent more time in Russia, but his hatred of the country matched mine.
Was it right?
I didn’t know. But I associated my home with happiness and I was never particularly happy in Russia.
In New Orleans, I was very happy. I loved the people.
I loved the cuisine. I loved my brothers with me there.
Papa was rarely there with us when I was a little girl, always chasing after Marietta Taylor, his lost mistress. Isabella’s mother.
Yes, our family was complicated.
My attention returned to the white landscape. It felt like forever until the car slowed to a halt outside a large mansion. No, not a mansion. A freaking honest-to-God castle.
My mouth parted as I stared at it. I’d seen my share of luxury, but I swore I hadn’t seen anything like this before.
It looked like one of those luxurious palaces from the eighteenth century that belonged to the Russian imperial family.
The Romanovs and their fall in the early twentieth century was known to every girl of Russian heritage. I was no exception.
“You live here?” I asked, my voice awed.
“I have a place closer to the city, but this is safer,” he remarked. I tilted my head and shifted my body so I could see his face.
“Are we not safe?”
“ Moya luna , we are never too safe.”
“You think the Yakuza will still attempt something?” I questioned. I had a lot more to lose now. We both did. It wasn’t just about my life anymore. It’s about the baby’s life too.
“The Yakuza will attempt shit for as long as the head of their organization remains the same.”
And with that, he shifted out of the car and swiftly picked me up into his arms. I opened my mouth, but he quickly stopped me. “I am carrying you through every threshold of our home. So get used to it.”
I didn’t protest. I couldn’t help it. My heart fluttered and warmth seeped into my soul and made its way into my heart. My hands wrapped around his neck, my fingers pushing into his thick, dark hair, as he passed the threshold of his home.
“Welcome home,” he murmured, his mouth on my cheek.
“We’ll spend more time in California, I promise, but this is home too.
” I smiled despite everything. “I don’t want my young bride to freeze to death here.
I sent a text ahead and instructed the staff to light up fireplaces in every room so we can keep you warm. ”
My chest cracked. Butterflies erupted. It was such a simple thing to do for me, yet so thoughtful. If he kept this up, I might be in danger of falling for him. I couldn’t let that happen.
My childish notions and romanticism led me astray with Adrian, and I’d known him for a lot longer than this man. There were secrets surrounding Illias, not to mention that damning video of him executing a young woman spoke volumes against him.
Therefore, I couldn’t give in to these feelings.
I sold my soul to the devil, although I fought him at every turn.
But I lost the game. I married him, even if I really didn't have a choice. But there was an upside to that. We didn’t sign a prenup so half of everything he owned was mine, including half of my soul. Right?
Half of everything you own is his too, my mind whispered. I immediately shut down the reason. There was no reason for negativity in my life right now.
“Oh my gosh,” I whispered, my mouth parting as I titled my head back to stare at the ceiling. I stared at the centuries old mosaic decor painted on the ceilings. “Vaulted ceilings have nothing on this.”
A loud squeal shattered the air. Illias’ and my eyes followed the sound.
What the heck–
The young woman that Illias executed stared at us with a wide smile, her eyes darting back and forth between Illias and me in excitement.
“Isla, what are you doing here?” Illias asked, his brows pinched. “I thought you were in Paris, attending your friend’s fashion show.”
Isla? Who in the fuck was Isla?
An attractive blush colored Isla’s cheeks while questions burned my brain. She was beautiful. Petite frame. Her soft ginger curls were in such contrast with her creamy complexion, but I swore the faint freckles on her nose matched her hair color.
“That was last week,” she replied, her eyes curiously on me. Who was this girl? The video showed Illias executing her. It looked too real to be fake. “If you want me to go, I can leave though,” she added teasingly.
My eyes darted curiously to Illias. His gaze was soft on the woman and a slither of jealousy flared in my chest. Confusion overwhelmed. I didn’t like being jealous, nor bitter. I shifted away from Illias, attempting to put some distance between us, which was hard considering he carried me.
“Where are you going?” he growled at me.
“Put me down,” I demanded.
“No.” God, I hated that word.
“We’re inside. I can walk now,” I protested, pushing against him to no avail. He only pulled me closer to his chest, holding onto me like I was his most precious cargo.
Illias returned the attention to the red-haired beauty, ignoring my protest. “Isla, meet Tatiana. My wife.” The girl’s eyes widened, practically bulging out of her head.
“Oh my God,” she squealed so loud I just about jumped out of Illias’ arms. “I’m so happy for you, Brother. When did you get married? Where? Why wasn’t I invited?”
Wait. What? Did she say brother? So the rumors were true! Holy shit! Illias had a sister. But… my brows furrowed. She looked nothing like him. I stared at her, studying every single feature of her face.
Maybe her nose , I thought to myself. I shook my head. No, definitely not the nose. Forehead?
“We got married right before my plane took off,” Illias answered her, while the two of us kept staring at each other.
Now that she was closer, I could see she wasn’t quite as young as the woman in the video.
Maybe he staged that when she was younger so he’d kept her hidden.
There were crazier things that happened in the underworld.
“You would have been invited, but it was an emergency.”
“I could have dropped everything and come to you,” she remarked, slightly hurt.
Illias pulled her into an embrace, while still keeping me in the arms, so it turned out to be a slightly awkward three person hug. Her face an inch from me, I could see her freckles even better. Fuck, she was gorgeous - freckles or no.
“Don’t worry,” I said softly. “He kind of kidnapped me, then forced me to marry him, so it truly was an emergency.”
She blinked in confusion. Illias groaned.
“You kidnapped her?” Her voice pitched high and her face twisted with panic. “Oh my gosh, we’re going to go to jail.” She glared at her brother, then threw me an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. W-we can still fix this. Illias didn’t mean it. It’s probably because you’re so… s-so beautiful.”
I waved my hand, feeling sorry for her. “Don’t worry about it. My brother kidnapped Branka last summer. In the middle of her walking down the aisle to marry someone else. Happens more than you think.”
Awkward silence followed. Her gaze darted to her brother, the look in her eyes clearly stating something was wrong either with me or her brother. Okay, maybe my answer wasn’t the best. Illias' stiff posture alerted me that there was no ‘maybe’ about it.
“It’s nice to meet you though,” I added, trying to at least end our conversation amicably. “I hope you won’t leave because I’m here. I hate being stuck in Russia in the winter.”
She blinked again, and it would have been comical if a suspicion didn’t form in my chest. Konstantin kept his sister in the dark about his status. How was that even possible?
Illias pecked his sister on the cheek as he headed for the grand staircase. “We’ll talk to you tomorrow, Sestra.” She opened her mouth but he immediately added, “Tomorrow.”
Her eyes flicked my way, back to her brother, then back to me. I offered her a comforting smile and nodded. “Tomorrow,” I mouthed.
“Uh-oh… okay.”
She remained glued to her spot as Illias took long strides up the stairs. Once we were out of her earshot, I hissed under my breath.
“She doesn’t know you’re the Pakhan,” I whispered angrily.
His shoulders tensed. His jaw ticked and his eyes turned murderous.
“Please don’t tell me you left your sister in the dark about the underworld.
” He remained silent. A muscle in his jaw tightened.
“I know you are smarter than that. You left her vulnerable and clueless.”
His eyes darkened. “She’s not clueless.” I gave him a pointed look. “She knows I don’t want her around my business. She has a normal life and normal friends.” My eyebrow shot up to my hairline. Did he really just say that?
“Pray tell how anything about being born into a family that belongs to the underworld is normal?” He kept striding forward, down the elaborate hallways. Left. Right. Left.
So I tried a different approach. “Does that mean my… our child will have a normal life too?”
It was the first time I referred to my little bundle of joy as ours. But I wanted to drive the point home.
His step faltered and he took my chin between his fingers. “Our child will be raised to take over all my businesses.”
My eyes flashed victoriously. “Then why are you keeping your sister in the dark?”
He gritted his teeth so hard, I could hear his teeth grinding. “She’s my half-sister. Illegitimate. It puts her in a completely different category.”
I couldn’t exactly argue that point. Alexei and Isabella were illegitimate children.
Alexei wasn’t hidden from the underworld, and it cost him his childhood.
Almost his entire life. Isabella didn’t know for her first twenty-five years that she was the illegitimate daughter of Lombardo Santos.
The old Santos didn’t know he had a daughter for the longest time.
It saved her from the underworld. So maybe Illias had a point.
“You know very well that illegitimate daughters are often kidnapped,” he said coldly.
“Sometimes legitimate daughters are kidnapped too,” I retorted dryly.
“And they’re dragged into whorehouses to be used for flesh selling and trading.”
I nodded. Unfortunately, he was right. “I promise I won’t tell anyone about her,” I vowed, surprising even myself. He had forced me into this marriage, but it’d be cruel to use her to get back at him. Isla was innocent. “Not even my brothers.”
His eyes found mine, something soft in them, sending my heart into an overdrive. He trapped me into his depths and I held his gaze.
“Thank you.”
Two simple words. One simple promise.