CHAPTER NINE
Anastasia
There is no way I would be turned on by the very man who is responsible for my brother’s death. Fyodor Sokolov killed my brother ten years ago, and the only reason why I got involved in his life in the first place was because I wanted my revenge.
Yet why is it that I can’t seem to get him out of my mind?
Not only am I thinking of him, but I’ve also had a couple wet dreams, and I realize that this isn’t right.
I have been trying to keep my distance from him since I discovered that every time he comes close, my body seems to crave his touch.
It’s almost as if everything about him turns me on.
This is troubling.
The memories of our first night together and how he pleased me the other day in his bedroom are etched permanently in my mind. That day, I gave in totally, wanting and craving his touch. Fyodor has shown me what it means to be a lover.
I mean, the passion and sensual moments we’ve had are far different from what I have ever experienced before. How do I deal with this? How do I cope with the fact that I want to sleep with the man who killed my brother?
Marina came to visit me out here in LA, and all she can do is ask me about how much I am in love with my husband. According to her, I have this glow that can only point to the fact that I am crazily in love with Fyodor or that I’ve been having crazy sex—or both.
At first, I try to tell her that isn’t the case, but I know how Marina can be.
Once she has an idea in her mind, she sticks to it to the very end of time unless you can convince her otherwise, which, in this case, I can’t really do.
In the end, I admitted to her that Fyodor and I have gotten intimate, and that I enjoyed every moment of it.
But I know that I have to do something. I need to find a way to get over him.
And what better way is there to get away from Fyodor than to travel back to Dallas to see my father?
However, in the past few days, I can’t help but notice that it seems as if Fyodor has been studying me, almost as if he knows what I am up to.
Of course that’s my paranoia speaking, but I need to take a break from him, and moving back home sounds like the best option.
My father shows his excitement the moment I appear at his door.
“My daughter,” he says with excitement. “How are the twins and Fyodor, my dashing son-in-law?”
It’s still difficult to wrap my head around the fact that my father is excited about my marriage with Fyodor.
Not only is he interested, but he also keeps tabs on us courtesy of Oksana, who has been telling him everything about us.
Fyodor once told me how my father had called him the other day, talking about how he is happy that we are doing well together.
He offers me a seat as he waves for Crawford, the family’s butler, to prepare my room. My father is unusually warm today, and he wants to know if I have been having my necessary checkups, to which I assure him that everything is fine and Fyodor is treating me well.
“Though he has been busy with work, Fyodor really comes home early and makes me feel seen,” I admit to him.
Normally, I wouldn’t have said anything about that, but I’d be lying if I said things aren’t really good between Fyodor and me. Besides, whether I admit it or not, my father already knows the truth anyway.
“Yes, yes, yes, I know,” my father puts in as he picks up a mint from the table. “The two of us, Ivan and I, have been working on expanding our reach, and since Fyodor is my son-in-law, I told Ivan I want him looking after it.”
I am not so sure why my father seems so confident and excited to have Fyodor get involved in everything.
If only he knew the truth; if only he knew what Fyodor has done.
“Oh, there is something I need to show you.”
Wondering what it might be, I sit up as my father summons Pavel, his most trusted man, and asks him to bring something. Uncle Pavel has always been protective and caring for as long as I can remember. If Uncle Pavel is involved, then that means that whatever Papa has in plan has to be good.
Uncle Pavel appears almost immediately with a large folder in his hand. He places it in my father’s hand, who then hands it over to me, telling me that it is for Fyodor and me. He goes on about how it is a savings account for the future.
“I don’t want my grandchildren suffering.
Left to me, I would have taken another direction.
But I do not know how my people would take to the idea of Fyodor taking over for me,” my father says as he picks up the decanter by the table and slowly pours himself another drink.
“Besides, I feel he is still loyal to Ivan and Dimitri, and would never want to leave them to be with me.”
Yes, I know how much Fyodor cares about Dimitri and his family. Their friendship is a rare one, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say they were brothers. Papa’s words make me wonder how things would change if Dimitri becomes the patriarch of his Bratva and Fyodor takes over for my father.
That will never happen, though.
I’ve overheard a few of Dimitri’s men talk about how Alexi, Dimitri’s brother, is next in line to Ivan Orlov.
“You don’t have to go this far, Papa,” I try to make him see.
“Please, anything for you and my grandchildren,” he answers in a tone that clarifies that this isn’t up for debate. “Especially if you have a boy; I want them provided for since they are my blood and can take over one day.”
I open my mouth but decide to keep quiet.
My father might be looking for an heir, and he might even be thinking he’ll have one of my sons do it, but I will never let any of my children sit on his seat.
In fact, if I can have my way, none of my children will be involved in this life.
Of course, I don’t say that right to his face, knowing how he’d react.
Our time together is interrupted by one of his men knocking at the door. He looks in Pavel’s direction, and I wonder if there is something wrong. My father tells me that I should try and get some rest while he meets with some of his friends.
I take my leave, heading into the kitchen where Vera, our chief maid, is trying to prepare my favorite meal.
Wanting to stretch my legs, I tell her that I’m going to take a walk around the garden.
This garden used to be my favorite spot with Alexei, and from time to time, I’d come here, thinking about how it would feel if he were still alive.
I can imagine his excitement and joy at the fact that I am about to become a mother, and how he would be an uncle.
Maybe I will name my child after him, especially if I have a boy.
I am sure Fyodor will understand theoretically, but how will he feel naming our son the name of the man he killed?
I continue my walk around the garden, thinking about how Fyodor dragged me from my bed and right into the small garden he prepared for me.
If not for his stubbornness, who knows? Maybe I would still be cooped up in my room.
As much as I hate Fyodor, I can’t help but think that he has an admirable sister.
Katya Sokolov is nothing like her brother.
Smart, intelligent, and actively pursuing the career of her dreams. She told me that she would love nothing more than to help me get my admission into the university.
Of course, I am not sure how her brother will feel about that.
Although, strangely, I can’t shake the feeling that Fyodor will be in support.
Sometimes, I am confused as to what to make of him. Is he a good man, or is he a bad man? Is he just pretending to be good until he gets what he wants? If he truly is a good man like Katya says, then what exactly does he want from me?
I continue to walk around in the garden as I ruminate on what to make of my complex relationship with Fyodor. Then, I notice that the window to my father’s study is wide open, and from where I’m standing, I can see him pacing the room—an act that indicates that something serious is going on.
I try to ignore it since this is not the very first time I have seen something like that happen.
But the closer I get to the study, the more I deliberate on if I should turn back or not.
I am not trying to listen to my father’s conversation, but I can’t shake the feeling that I need to listen to him, and it turns out that I am right.
“This has to do with Alexei, Matteo,” Pavel says.
I pause almost immediately, wondering if my father has stumbled upon something. Perhaps by chance, he has now found out for a fact that Fyodor is involved with the death of my brother. How will he take this? Will he kill Fyodor? What about our marriage? Will he dissolve the marriage?
Yes, my father is the type that cares about his image, and divorce is something he would never really agree to.
Unless he decides to get Fyodor out of the way permanently.
If my father has really found out about Fyodor’s role in Alexei’s death, he will kill him, and that would be giving Fyodor the easy way out.
But I need Fyodor to suffer. To writhe in pain like I did for ten years.
I need him to understand what it means to love someone you care about.
My mind immediately switches to Katya and Leonid.
Leonid is supposed to be three years younger than me and still in high school.
A boy who does not seem to be interested in the Bratva.
But maybe Fyodor is just waiting for him to get his high school diploma.
Though I can’t shake the feeling that Fyodor would never let his brother join the Bratva. He has shown how protective he is of his family, and no one in their right mind would let their own sibling or family member start in the lowest chain in an organization as demanding as the mob.
“I told you not to look into this,” my father responds with a bit of desperation in his voice. “Forget everything that has to do with Alexei.”
“But we—” Pavel begins before my father cuts him off.
“You know this is a matter I had closed a long time ago. Especially since we both know how painful his death is for all of us.”
Now, I become curious. Is there more to my brother’s death that I don’t know? Something my father has been keeping close to the vest?
Could it have been a hit? Ivan Orlov or someone powerful ordering a hit on my brother?
There is no way for me to know, not at the moment, but I’m definitely not letting this go.
I need to be careful since my father would not be happy if he realized that I am digging into this. Their conversation has made me realize that there’s still something I’m missing; a little piece of the puzzle that I do not yet have.