Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Riley
Pakhan. Of course I knew that title—trust me, everyone in New York knew that title. But Matvey was that brutal, cold-blooded mob pakhan from the rumors? No joke, my heart jumped into my throat. Especially when gunfire erupted behind me.
Up until two minutes ago, I'd been drowning in that fear. But now, I had something else on my mind.
"Bratva or not, Pakhan or not, you're still you."
Yeah, the Matvey in front of me—sure, he could be a bastard sometimes, but he was no heartless killer. Well, not to regular people anyway.
"Your mother succeeded. You didn't become the man she feared you'd be."
"Maybe. I don't know." He turned away. "Once you walk this path, it's kill or be killed. I stopped knowing who I am a long time ago."
"Matvey, what are you so afraid of?" My palm found his face, traced his hard features. "You protected me just now, didn't you?"
I felt him freeze for a second. Then he looked up at me. I'd never seen that expression on his face before. Surprised. Stunned. Even a little lost. Nothing like his usual composure.
"So this scar on your forehead—was that from training too?" My fingers traced the mark.
It looked like a knife wound—thin and long. Even healed, I could imagine the flesh splitting open. That must have hurt like hell.
My heart felt like someone was sticking needles in it.
"Riley, aren't you scared of me?" He didn't answer my question. "Normal people don't want anything to do with bratva."
Bratva? I'd almost forgotten if he hadn't mentioned it.
"Why would I be scared? Should I be scared of you, or should I be scared of bratva?" I shot back, my hand leaving the scar.
Honestly, they seemed different from the bratva I'd imagined. Even Anton—he looked like a thug, but he seemed like a decent guy.
"Both. Every single one is something you should fear."
"I'm not as fragile as you think." I shook my head. "My father died when I was little. My mother followed him soon after."
"You know what? My mother died from a drug overdose." My throat tightened. "She just lay there on the couch, stopped breathing."
His hand found mine.
"But I never wallowed in self-pity. Never thought it was my fault she died because I didn't do enough." I kept going. "Because what you can do is limited. You're just a person. There's so much you can't choose. That's not yours to decide."
"So, Matvey, don't say things that make me sad." I hooked my finger around his. "Who you are doesn't matter. What matters is who you want to be."
"My sister and I came here with nothing. But now, I have a job I love, and... someone I love."
I stopped, met his eyes.
"Riley, I have to admit, you're special." He brought my hand to his temple. "This scar—I got it during training. My opponent slashed me with a knife. Everyone wanted to beat me because my father offered them money if they did."
"Matvey..." My voice broke.
Before I realized it, I'd sat up and pressed my lips to that scar. Matvey pulled me into his arms.
"Thank you, Riley." He buried his face in my neck, voice rough.
Clearly, he wasn't good at handling moments like this.
We stayed like that. People passing by smiled knowingly at us.
We rarely had moments like this—pure embrace, pure emotional connection. We only pulled apart when the evening breeze made me sneeze.
The next morning, I went straight to the top floor like Matvey asked—to his office.
The décor was simple but elegant. One entire wall was floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan. The oversized office had wall-to-wall cashmere carpet.
Matvey sat in his office chair reviewing documents. He wore only a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, chest straining against the fabric. Office Matvey made me want to rip his clothes off even more.
"Good morning." I cleared my throat.
Damn it, could my heart get it together? Stop doing cardio in my chest every time I saw Matvey!
Matvey didn't notice my little crisis. He matter-of-factly directed me to my own desk.
The setup here was a million times better than my old workstation.
"So what's my job, Mr. Bykov?" I sank into the buttery leather chair. "I heard you've never had an assistant."
"Help me solve problems." He stood and walked toward me slowly. "Problems only you can solve."
He braced one hand on my armrest, the other arm circling behind my neck and slipping into my shirt.
Warning signals flared in my brain. I swallowed. But he just pinched my stomach, didn't go further.
"Your work is on your desk." He returned to his seat.
On the desktop sat my sketchbook and Matvey's schedule.
Matvey's personal assistant sounded impressive. But actually, besides arranging his meeting schedule, all I did was draw designs and satisfy Matvey's various thrilling ideas.
Sometimes he'd pin me against the floor-to-ceiling windows, my breasts flattened against the glass, his thick cock inside me. Sometimes he'd bend me over his desk, entering me from behind, kneading my ass hard—he wanted to try something new every day.
Of course there were tender moments too. He never said he liked me, but he'd put warm milk beside me when I forgot the time while drawing. He'd drape his jacket over me when I dozed off at my desk.
Every piece of jewelry I designed, he insisted I wear first. He used these methods to make my heart hold only him.
Days like this flew by.
"Riley, you're such a good girl." He held me on his lap, breath hot against my ear. "Your tits just keep getting bigger."
His hand had already slipped through the gap at my waist into my bra, kneading. His hips kept grinding up against me. I got wet instantly, like my body had muscle memory. I had to admit, the shame turned me on.
Was I just into this? Or was it only because it was Matvey doing it to me? I didn't know. But I couldn't resist enjoying this moment.
Those two little things on my chest were hard and aching now, insanely sensitive—just brushing against fabric made my body go weak.
"Matvey..."
I moaned. His fingers worked harder. Only when I went limp in his arms did he finally let me go.
"Move into my apartment, Riley." Matvey's voice was soft.
Actually, he'd said this many times, but I'd refused every time. I always felt like I was too happy, that fate would take it all back.
"No, I still need to take care of Evelyn."
I lived close to the hospital where my sister was, so I could visit her every morning before work.
Even though Matvey had arranged the most professional caregivers and the best medical team for her post-op care, knowing her personality, she'd be miserable without someone to chat with.
As compensation for refusing him each time, I kissed the corner of his mouth. He immediately cupped the back of my head and deepened the kiss. Our tongues tangled, saliva mixed, utterly intimate. When our lips parted, my tongue was numb.
Just as I'd straightened my clothes and was about to return to my seat to finish my sketches, a woman suddenly burst in. She didn't knock, just walked right in like she owned the place.
Honestly, she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.
Red hair. Black miniskirt. High heels. Slender figure with long, pale, straight legs. Brown eyes set in sculpted sockets, a nose like a perfect peak. Those full red lips could go straight into a lipstick commercial.
"Veronica?" Matvey reacted before I did. "What are you doing here?"
"Darling, did you see the message I sent you?" She parted those red lips, waving her phone, then sat on the couch like it was the most natural thing.
Matvey immediately pulled out his phone. When he saw the message, his face darkened.
I didn't know what it said, but I had a bad feeling.
"Darling, I think we need to talk. Alone." The woman glanced at me, emphasizing "alone."
Who was she? Matvey's bed partner? Why did she seem so intimate with him? My eyes started stinging.
Matvey looked at Veronica, then at me.
"Riley, get her some coffee." He kept his eyes on Veronica as he spoke.
I almost charged up and demanded answers. But I knew I didn't have that right. After all, Matvey had never actually said he liked me, had he? We were essentially still a transaction.
"Yes, Mr. Bykov." I bowed to them and left the office.
Before I closed the door, Matvey had already moved to the other side of the couch. His back was to me—I couldn't see his expression. But that woman's smile was crystal clear, bright enough to hurt my eyes.
I stood in the hallway stunned for a while before remembering I was supposed to get coffee.
I carried the carafe into the break room, but the machine seemed broken.
Nothing I did made it work. I had to go down one floor.
Several girls stood in that break room. Beyond the coffee machine's hum came their whispers.
"...really? She's back?"
"I swear! I just saw her outside. That face is gorgeous, and what a body."
I silently walked to the water dispenser, pretending to be an invisible person just getting water.
"Who is she?" one girl asked.
"You haven't been here long, no wonder you don't know." Another girl lowered her voice. "She's Mr. Bykov's ex-wife, Veronica Gadz. From Moscow. I heard her dad's an energy oligarch, filthy rich."
Ex-wife. My grip on the carafe handle faltered.
"Ex-wife? Then why's she back?"
"What do you think?" Another voice hummed meaningfully. "I'm telling you, they never fell out of love. They separated for other reasons. Mr. Bykov was head over heels for her back then. Totally devoted."
"Really? Our boss is a devoted billionaire?"
"Shh—keep it down! There's more." That voice dropped even lower. "I heard she came back wanting to remarry Mr. Bykov... and get this, she's supposedly carrying his baby."
Hot water overflowed from the carafe, pouring straight onto the back of my hand.
"Ah—" Scalding pain shot through me. I snapped back, frantically shutting off the water.
"You okay?" The girls finally noticed me.
"I'm fine." I shook my head, forcing a smile. "The water's hot. It splashed."
They stopped talking, exchanged glances, and hurried out.
The break room finally went quiet.
I looked down at my hand. Red and swollen with blisters. But I barely felt the pain.
Baby. Remarriage. Devotion. Each word slammed into my chest. My brain couldn't process it. My stomach felt full of water, heavy and sick. Matvey never told me he had an ex-wife he loved.
But why would he? Would you tell a bed partner you can summon anytime about that stuff? I laughed bitterly to myself.
He said I was special. But really I was just a product he'd bought.
I stared at the coffee machine I'd already loaded with beans and hot water, watching that dark liquid drip into the pot. It seemed deliberately slow, torturing me. I braced my uninjured hand on the counter, forcing the damn liquid in my eyes to stay put.
Riley, don't be stupid. This was always just a transaction. I repeated that to myself over and over until my heart went almost numb.
Finally, the coffee was ready. I carried it back to the office door, took a deep breath, forced an assistant's proper smile onto my face. But the moment I reached for the door, I froze—it was locked from the inside.
"Matvey, I really missed you." Veronica's sultry voice drifted out.
What I was holding suddenly felt impossibly heavy.
Matvey didn't respond, but I could imagine his mood being alone with the ex-wife he'd longed for.
"Don't... darling!" Veronica's startled cry pierced my ears.
After that, I couldn't hear anything. They must have turned on the office soundproofing. I didn't dare imagine what they were doing. Everything Matvey had done to me in that office flashed through my mind.
Was he doing that to her too? My heart split in half.