Chapter 21
SEMYON
The days pass, and Matvei feels no closer to getting the truth than he was before. Anya is getting impatient—I can tell by the way she questions things. We go for dinner like clockwork at six every night, and it seems like she and her brother have always been here. She’s become besties with Zoya, and she chats with my family as if she knows them.
She does, though, doesn't she? My beautiful wife.
It’s getting close to the Romanov ball. They are famous for having these benefits in New York, but now that Polina is situated in Moscow—just outside of Moscow—and her mother spends so much time here, they've decided to extend their balls to Moscow as well. It's a benefit, really, typically an art auction generating several million that they donate to charity. It keeps the Romanovs in good standing, and by association, us .
So I've agreed—reluctantly—to allow Anya to go shopping with my sisters. I'm at the bar with Matvei, Rodion, and Rafail, along with Rafail’s friend, Vadka.
"Are you pregnant yet?" Rafail asks, just as he motions to the bartender for another shot of vodka.
"Of course not," I tell him. "What kind of bullshit phrase is that anyway? Men don't get pregnant."
"But they should," the bartender says, her hands planted flat across the top of the bar. I recognize her from somewhere, but it isn't until Vlad speaks up that I know exactly where.
"And why is that?" he asks, his head tipped to the side.
The bartender—Ruth—is Vadka's sister-in-law. He's married to her sister. With a shock of short black hair and eyes that cut right through you, she's memorable. A spitfire. And there are interesting rumors that circulate about her loyalty and ruthlessness.
"Because you men should share the burden of it,” she says pragmatically. "It's an absolute shame that evolution hasn't come to the point where you also have children."
"We have children," I tell her, taking a methodical sip of my beer. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"You don't bear them. You don't have to deal with stretch marks, blood, and saggy boobs."
I cock my head to the side.
“…And the labor pains and leaking nipples." She throws her hands up in the air. "I've seen what women go through. It's bullshit. "
And with that, she slams the bottle of vodka on the counter. "You can pour your own damn vodka.”
"What the hell is that about?" I ask Vadka.
He shakes his head. “Who knows? She's really harmless. Actually, no, not harmless at all," he says quietly, shaking his head. “If you’re on her good side.”
Rodion frowns. “Does she just hate men?”
"Wouldn't blame her if she did," I say, taking another drink of my beer. "We're kind of assholes."
"Speak for yourself," Rafail says, smacking my back.
"You are definitely an asshole," Matvei says to him. “Listen, I hate to dredge up the past, but going through these computer files, I've come across a few things," he says cryptically.
"Like what?" I ask him.
"You all remember that Anissa betrayed our fearless leader," Matvei says, jerking his chin toward Rafail, who grunts into his glass.
"Ended well for me," Rafail says. "I got my wife instead of that traitor."
Matvei’s eyes narrow. "And that traitor still betrayed us, didn't she?"
"You weren't supposed to be looking for that information," Rodion says, shaking his head. "You were supposed to be cracking into the computer to get information about the abduction—or supposed abduction or whatever the fuck. "
"I know," Matvei says. "And what if I told you that the two things were intricately intertwined?"
"Jesus," I mutter under my breath. "Do you mean to tell me?—"
"I don't mean to tell you anything. I want to tell you exactly what it is. This is what I found out.” He lowers his voice. “The Irish are heavily involved."
I lean forward, my stomach knotting. He wasn’t supposed to find out information about anyone else on Eli’s computer. “How involved?”
He shakes his head. “They’ve been working in the shadows for a while now. They were the only ones pushing to secure control of the bakery’s location,” he explains. “It wasn’t about the properties—we know that—it was all about positioning. They knew exactly where to strike.”
I shake my head. “And Anissa?”
Rafail stiffens. A few years ago, he was jilted at the altar, and we’ve been unable to secure the location of the woman who betrayed him. Rafail didn’t pursue it after he’d married Polina, but she’s been a loose thread ever since.
“She’s playing both sides. I dug into communications—she’s been meeting with the Irish leadership in secret. The Irish offered her a way out. Protection, financial security—anything to keep her from marrying Rafail. They knew the marriage would strengthen us, that it would unify key factions and block their influence. The whole ‘cold feet at the altar’ story? Bullshit.”
We process all this in silence. I shake my head. “But there’s more. Eli’s in deeper than I expected. His debt wasn’t random, Semyon, but part of their plan. He owes money to Irish-connected interests, and in exchange, he’s been feeding them intel. Remember, he had firsthand access to the bakery.”
Shit.
I do not want to tell Anya any of this.
“He betrayed his own family?”
Matvei sighs. “Yeah. He probably thought he was just buying time, that he could outsmart them. But the Irish don’t play games. They used him.”
“And you have proof of all this?”
“Almost.” Matvei frowns, tension tightening his features. “I’m still cracking through the last firewall, but this is bad. They’ve orchestrated everything to fracture us from within.”
Cold silence settles between us. The Irish have played a long game.
“I’ll keep digging. But be ready. When all this comes to a head… it’s gonna get bloody.”
"Well, gents," Vadka says, pushing to his feet. “On that happy note, I promised my wife that I would do bedtime tonight, so I need to go.”
He pays his tab and leaves.
This is why I never wanted to get involved with a woman, have a family, fall in love. All I can think about is Anya’s safety. I’m distracted, my loyalty divided .
"That's an interesting development," I mutter. Rafail grunts. Rodion cracks his knuckles. Matvei stares at a tablet as if trying to decide his next move in a game.
My phone buzzes with a text. I immediately hide it so no one else can see.
I smile down at a picture of my beautiful wife wearing a blue gown that hugs her curves in all the right ways. When she turns around in the second pic, her back is completely bare. God. She can’t wear that in public.
I tap out a text and send it:
You can wear that in the bedroom, but I'll spank your ass if you wear that in public.
She sends back a blushing emoji, and I shake my head.
Then comes another picture, this one even worse than the first two. There’s a strip of red fabric across her breasts, the curve of her lower breasts exposed, and sheer fabric covers the rest. The dress comes all the way up her thighs.
“Somebody’s distracted,” Rodion says in that same teasing voice. “Your wife sending you nudes?”
“Say that again, and I’ll throw you across this bar,” I snap.
He holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m just joking. Relax.”
“He’s not gonna relax if you keep talking about his wife being nude,” Rafail says, smacking Rodion on the side of his head. “Just like you wouldn’t if someone was talking about your wife the same way. ”
Rodion shrugs. “It’s all in your expression. How else do you explain the way you’re looking right now? One second, you’re happy, practically grinning at the phone; the next, you look like you wanna whip it across the room.”
“Maybe she showed me pictures of dresses she wants to wear to the gala,” I snap at him. “So shut the fuck up.”
“Wow, she has melted the Ice King,” Rodion mutters. I growl at him, which makes Rafail’s lip twitch and Rodion blanch. He’s been on the receiving end of more than one good beating from me and knows he’s damn close.
“Open your mouth again,” I warn, narrowing my eyes at him. “You fucking?—”
“Boys, boys,” Rafail says. “Break it up. Rodion, apologize.” Rodion’s nostrils flare. He doesn’t like being made a spectacle of in front of everyone.
“I’m sorry, all right?”
“Semyon,” Rafail continues to chide us like we’re fucking high schoolers again, “you apologize for taking things too seriously.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely not. He was talking about my wife disrespectfully. Like I’d let him get away with that. I’d fucking knock his teeth in.”
Matvei whistles low. “Wow. You’re right, Rodion. Semyon really has changed, huh?”
“What? What the fuck are you guys talking about?”
“You have feelings for her,” Matvei says, looking at me with wide eyes, his jaw dropping. “ You —Semyon, the original Ice King, incapable of feelings for anybody. We thought you were a psychopath.”
“Who says I’m not?” I shrug.
“It doesn’t matter,” Rafail says, looking back at me with curiosity in his features. “You should love your wife. It will strengthen your bond. It’s good for you,” he adds. “I love Polina.”
I sit up straighter, looking around the room.
Love is good for me? Do I love her?
“Oh god. I love her.”
The words feel strange but right. “What does it mean to love someone?” I ask, looking between them. “I wanna know. You guys tell me. What does it mean to love someone?”
“How can someone who’s so fucking brilliant not know this?” Rodion asks. “I actually know something he doesn’t. Dude, when you love someone, you’d do anything for them. You’d lay down your life for them, protect them. When you’re away from them, they take up every thought in your mind. You don’t feel like yourself again until you’re with them. And then when you are, you become your whole self again.”
“Hold on with all that bullshit,” Matvei says.
Rafail glares at him, but Matvei nods. “I agree. I’ve never loved a woman, but I’ve loved my sister.” His eyes grow soft, staring into the distance. “No one like her.” His sister was killed in a brutal war ten years ago. He did everything he could to save her but couldn’t. His sister was my cousin, and we all mourned her loss.
“I loved Gleb until he became a traitor,” Matvei adds. “And my asshole dad and mother.”
“They’re still family,” Rafail responds. “And we’re loyal to family.”
Matvei’s loyal to a fault.
“Love isn’t a feeling,” Rafail says. “It’s not just something in your chest or heart. It’s what you do. If you love someone, you do anything for them.” His voice drops, and his eyes grow dark. “Anything.”
The bartender gives him a curious look, pours another shot of vodka, and hands it over to him. “Well done. I’ll call a momentary truce,” she says with a wink before going back to serving the bar.
“We weren’t fighting, but okay,” Matvei says, taking the free drink. He likes a good free drink.
Love .
Holy fucking shit.
I love her.
“You look like you just saw a ghost,” Rafail says with a grin. “Jesus, brother, you didn’t know you loved her?”
I shake my head. “I knew that I’d protect her, that I was devoted to her, and that I meant every word I said in my vows. But love? No, I didn’t… I didn’t know I was capable of love. ”
“Not capable of love,” Rafail scoffs. “You were chasing love when you were five years old, always trying to look up a skirt and find someone who would be devoted to you. Then, one day, your whole world came to a screeching halt.”
Another text comes in from Anya. I stare at my phone.
Anya
How about this one?
I look at the screen. She’s wearing a soft champagne-colored dress that hugs every curve but covers every inch of her. She has a beautiful little shrug draped over her shoulders.
Anya
This is the one I’d wear in public.
Her message pings alongside a winky emoji and a picture. A second follows almost instantly. Then a second picture arrives. She’s taken off the shrug in this one.
Anya
And this is what happens when you take it off.
My lips twitch in a rare grin. Heat stirs in my chest as I rise from the chair, phone in hand. My voice hardens. “I love my wife, motherfuckers. I’m going home.”
Laughter echoes in the room, but Matvei is strangely silent. He frowns at his screen, eyes narrowed in concentration.
“Wait.”
“What?” I’m feeling impatient. I need to see her now .
Matvei blows out a breath, his shoulders stiff. “Something… doesn’t fit. But I need to check one more thing first.” He shakes his head. “We’re closing in on the truth, but I’ll need time to confirm it.”
My blood chills. Something is wrong. I pull Anya’s location on my phone, my thumb hovering over the screen.
“How long?”
“Soon. Hopefully tomorrow.”
The knot in my chest tightens. Anya is waiting. She’s worried about her brother, and I know damn well how fragile the peace between us is. The other shoe is about to drop.