Chapter 70
Matvey
“Let me go, you fucking lunatic!”
Daria’s elbow connects with my ribs. Hard. For a doctor, she fights dirty.
I tighten my grip on her arm as I drag her up the marble steps of my father’s mansion. She’s kicking, scratching, biting. A wildcat in scrubs. Security doesn’t even blink as I haul her past them.
“Keep struggling.” My voice is low, dangerous. “See where it gets you.”
She sinks her teeth into my forearm. I feel skin break.
The pain makes something dark and hungry coil in my chest. I grab a fistful of her hair, yank her head back. Her throat’s exposed. Pale. Delicate. I could snap her neck with one hand.
“Do that again,” I growl against her ear, “and I’ll show you what I do to people who bite me.”
“Fuck you.”
I laugh. Actually laugh. Because this woman has no idea where I’m taking her or what’s about to happen, and she’s still got that fire in her eyes.
She’s got balls.
I kick open the door to my father’s study.
Arseni Zlobin sits behind his massive oak desk like a king on a throne. Sixty-five years old, cold as Siberian winter, ruthless enough to build an empire on blood and fear. My father. The man who raised me in servant quarters, while my half-brother Kliment got a princely childhood.
Kliment’s here too. Sprawled in a leather chair, cognac in hand, looking bored. Twenty-eight years old, pampered, useless. The golden heir who’s never gotten his hands dirty.
I drop Daria on the Persian rug between them.
She hits the floor hard, gasps. But she’s already scrambling to her feet, backing away from me.
“Matvey.” Arseni’s voice could freeze vodka. “What is this?”
I pull the hiring paperwork from my pocket, throw it on his desk. “Ask your heir.”
Kliment sits up straighter. Something like worry flickers across his pretty-boy face.
Arseni picks up the paper, scans it. His expression doesn’t change but the temperature in the room drops ten degrees.
“Dr. Daria Tsaryov.” He looks at Daria. Then at Kliment. “You were supposed to hire Darla Tsaryova.”
“I did hire a Dr. Tsaryov.” Kliment’s already making excuses. “The application said D. Tsaryov, medical degree, excellent references.”
“Darla Tsaryova,” Arseni repeats slowly, “grew up in the organization. Her father was Orlov. She knows our world. She can be trusted.” He gestures to Daria with cold precision. “This is not Darla Tsaryova.”
“It’s an honest mistake. Similar names. I didn’t realize there were two Dr. Tsaryovs in New York.”
I lean against the wall, arms crossed, watching my brother squirm. This is better than I expected. Kliment fucked up. Again. And this time, it’s in front of our father.
Dark satisfaction settles in my chest.
“The cabinet members are arriving in an hour,” Arseni says quietly.
Too quietly. “They were expecting to meet our new doctor. The one who grew up in our world. The one who understands loyalty and silence.” He looks at Daria.
“Instead, they will see that my heir cannot complete a simple hiring task without catastrophic error.”
Kliment goes pale. “Father, I can fix this.”
“Can you?” Arseni stands. He’s not a large man, but he fills the room with menace. “Can you undo the fact that this woman has seen our clinic? Treated our men? Knows what we are, and seen faces that even the authorities do not know belong to our organization?”
Daria’s breathing fast. She’s backed herself into a corner, pressed against the bookshelf. Her eyes dart between all of us.
She’s smart enough to realize she’s in serious trouble.
“I won’t tell anyone anything,” she says. Her voice shakes, but she keeps talking. “I don’t even know what I saw. I’ll forget everything. I’ll disappear. You’ll never see me again.”
Arseni looks at her the way you’d look at an insect. “You’ve seen my world. You performed emergency surgery on my Bratva member. You’ve seen Matvey’s face. You’ve seen my face.” He turns to me. “Handle it.”
Two words.
Code for: kill her and dump the body.
I look at Daria. She’s terrified now. Really terrified. But there’s still that fire in her green eyes. Still, that defiance in the set of her jaw.
She saved Lyosha’s life.
She stood up to me with a gun to her head.
She bit me.
Something possessive and dark wraps around my spine.
“I’ll take care of it personally,” I hear myself say. “My way.”
Arseni’s eyes narrow. “Your way.”
“Yes.”
Silence stretches between us. My father’s studying me, reading me the way he’s been reading people for forty years. He knows I’m not agreeing to a simple execution.
“Fine.” He sits back down and dismisses me with a wave. “But make it clean. I don’t want complications.”
Kliment smirks. He thinks he knows what’s coming. Thinks I’m going to put a bullet in her brain and toss her in the river.
My brother’s an idiot.
I grab Daria’s arm again. She fights me, but I’m already hauling her toward the door.
“No! Wait!” She claws at my hand. “Please! I’m a doctor! I save lives! You can’t just kill me!”
“Watch me,” I say.
I drag her out of the study, down the hallway. She’s screaming now. Full-volume screaming. The house staff looks away. They know better than to interfere.
“Someone help me! Please! He’s going to kill me!”
No one moves.
Welcome to my world, doctor.
I get her outside, throw her in the SUV. She scrambles for the door but I’m faster. Climb in beside her, lock it.
“Drive,” I tell my driver.
The engine starts.
Daria stares at me. Her face is white. Hands shaking. But those eyes are still furious.
“Where are you taking me?”
“My place.”
“To kill me?”
“If I wanted you dead,” I say slowly, “you’d already be dead.”
“Then what do you want?”
Good question.
I want to know why Kliment’s incompetence keeps getting rewarded while my loyalty gets me nothing. I want to know who set up that ambush tonight. I want to know why this woman makes something dark and hungry wake up inside me.
But I don’t say any of that.
Instead, I lean back and spread my arms across the seat. Let my size fill the space. She’s trapped between me and the door. Nowhere to run.
“You’re in debt to me,” I tell her. “You saw things you shouldn’t have seen. You know things you shouldn’t know. That makes you a liability.”
“I told you, I won’t say anything.”
“Everyone says that. Right up until the FBI offers them witness protection.”
“I’m a doctor. I took an oath. Patient confidentiality means something to me.”
I laugh. Cold. Harsh. “Your oath means shit in my world.”
She flinches but doesn’t look away. “Then why didn’t you let your father kill me? Why bring me to your place instead?”
Because you’re mine now.
The thought comes unbidden. Possessive. Insane.
I’ve known this woman for four hours. Four hours of watching her save my best friend’s life with steady hands and fierce determination. Four hours of seeing her stand up to men with guns. Four hours of wanting to see what else she’s capable of.
“You’re useful,” I say instead. “Lyosha’s alive because of you. My men get hurt. A lot. We need a doctor who can keep her mouth shut and her hands steady.”
“You want me to work for you.”
“I want you to belong to me.”
The words hang in the air between us.
Her eyes go wide. “Belong to you? Like I’m some property?”
“In my world, everyone’s property. The only question is whose.” I lean forward, invade her space. She presses back against the door, but there’s nowhere to go. “You can belong to me, or you can belong to the morgue. Choose.”
“That’s not a choice.”
“It’s the only choice you’re getting.”
She’s breathing fast. I can see her pulse hammering in her throat. Smell the fear on her skin mixed with something else. Antiseptic. Blood. The surgery she performed.
“What if I refuse?” Her voice is barely a whisper.
“Then I take you back to my father and let him handle it his way.” I tilt my head. “How do you think that ends for you, Doc?”
Her jaw clenches. She knows exactly how it ends.
“So my options are work for you or die.”
“Yes.”
“And if I work for you, what does that mean? What do you expect?”
“You treat my men. No questions asked. You keep your mouth shut about everything you see and hear. You do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you.” I let my gaze drift down her body.
The scrubs are wrinkled, blood-stained. But I can see the curves underneath.
Delicate. Breakable. “And you stay where I can see you.”
“You’re talking about kidnapping me.”
“I’m talking about keeping you alive.”
“By making me a prisoner.”
“Call it what you want.”
She’s quiet for a long moment. I can see her brain working. Calculating. Looking for a way out.
There isn’t one.
“How long?” she finally asks.
“How long what?”
“How long would I have to work for you? A month? A year?”
I smile. No warmth in it. “As long as I want you.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only answer you’re getting.”
The SUV pulls up to my building. Forty-story high-rise in Manhattan. The top three floors are mine. Bulletproof windows, reinforced doors, enough security to make Fort Knox jealous.
“We’re here,” my driver announces.
Daria looks at the building, then back at me. I can see the moment she considers running. Weighs her chances.
“Don’t,” I warn.
“Don’t what?”
“Whatever you’re thinking about doing. Don’t.” I open my door, step out, and hold out my hand. “Come on, doctor. Let’s see your new home.”
She doesn’t take my hand. Instead, she climbs out on her own. Stubborn. Defiant.
I’m starting to like that about her.
We walk through the lobby. The doorman nods to me, doesn’t even glance at Daria. Trained not to see things. Not to ask questions.
The elevator ride is silent. She stands as far from me as possible in the enclosed space. Arms crossed. Chin up.
Trying to look brave.
When the doors open on my floor, I gesture for her to go first. She hesitates, then steps out into the penthouse.
It’s all dark wood, leather furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. My fortress. My kingdom.
She walks to the windows, looks out at the lights of New York spread below us.
“It’s beautiful,” she says quietly.
“I’m glad you like your new cage.”
She turns to look at me. “My cage?”
“Our cage.” I cross to the bar, pour two fingers of vodka. Down it in one swallow. Pour another. “You’re stuck with me, doctor. Better get used to it.”
“I don’t even know your name.”
“Matvey.”
“Matvey what?”
“Zlobin.”
Recognition flashes across her face. She heard the servant announce us to the senior Mr. Zlobin when we first arrived. “Zlobin. Like the man in the study.”
“My father.”
“So you’re...”
“Bratva royalty?” I laugh bitterly. “No. I’m the bastard son. The illegitimate mistake he kept around because I’m useful.” I gesture to the penthouse. “This is my reward for fifteen years of loyal service. A nice apartment and the scraps from my brother’s table.”
She’s quiet. Processing.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“You dragged me here, and you don’t even know my name?”
“I know it’s Daria Tsaryov. I want to hear you say it.”
She lifts her chin. “Dr. Daria Tsaryov.”
“Not anymore. Here, you’re Daria. My doctor. My responsibility.” I down the second vodka. “My problem.”
“Glad to know I’m such an inconvenience.”
“You have no idea.”
She turns back to the window. I can see her reflection in the glass. The exhaustion in her face. The fear she’s trying to hide.
“I thought I had landed my dream job,” she says softly. “I worked my whole life for that position.”
“Should’ve been more careful about which clinic you applied to.”
“Should’ve been more careful about a lot of things.” She touches the glass. “My father’s going to worry when I don’t come home.”
“Your father’s Dr. Boleslaw Tsaryov?”
Her head snaps around. “How do you know that?”
“I know everything about you, doctor. Where you grew up. Where you went to school. Where you live. Who you love.” I smile. Cruel. “I had you investigated the second we left my father.”
“You had me investigated in thirty minutes?”
“I have resources.”
She wraps her arms around herself. Defensive. Scared. “What else do you know?”
“I know you were a child genius, accelerated study, graduated as the youngest and top of your class. I know you have student loans that’ll take twenty years to pay off.
I know you broke up with your boyfriend six months ago because he wanted you to quit medicine and have babies.
” I move closer. She doesn’t back away this time.
“I know you’re brilliant, stubborn, and brave enough to threaten a man holding a gun.
I know you saved my best friend’s life when you could’ve let him die. ”
“I took an oath.”
“You did more than that. You looked me in the eye and told me to get the hell out of your operating room.” I’m close enough now to smell her. Blood and fear and something sweet underneath. “No one talks to me that way and lives.”
“So why am I still alive?”
Because you’re magnificent, and I want to keep you.
But I don’t say that. Instead, I step back. Give her space.
“You’re alive because you’re useful. Stay useful, stay alive. It’s that simple.”
“Nothing about this is simple.”
“No,” I agree. “It’s not.”
She looks around the penthouse. Taking in the security cameras, the reinforced door, the windows that don’t open.
“Where do I sleep?”
“Guest room. Down the hall. Second door on the left.”
“And if I try to leave?”
“You won’t make it to the elevator.”
“What if I scream? Call for help?”
“These walls are soundproof. And everyone in this building knows better than to interfere with my business.” I meet her eyes. “You’re mine now, Daria. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be.”
“I’m not yours. I’m not anyone’s.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
She walks past me, heading for the guest room. Stops at the doorway. Turns back.
“I hate you,” she says.
“Good. Hate keeps you sharp.”
She disappears into the room. I hear the door close. The lock clicks.
I smile.
She thinks that lock will keep me out?
Adorable.
I pour another vodka, settle into my chair. Pull up the security feed on my phone. The guest room camera shows Daria pacing. She’s checking the windows, testing them. Smart girl.
They’re bulletproof and sealed shut.
After ten minutes, she sits on the bed. Drops her head in her hands.
She’s not crying. I’m watching for it. But her shoulders don’t shake. She sits there for a long moment, then looks up at the camera, and proceeds to flip me off.
I laugh out loud.
This woman’s going to be trouble.
I can’t fucking wait.