Chapter 13 - Artyom
I tapped my pen against the papers in front of me, my mind shot to hell. The past few days had been a blur of distraction. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt her lips on mine, her hands tugging at my hair, her hips pressing against me.
Instead of closing deals, I found myself wandering through art galleries, buying pieces and leaving them in our bedroom for Ninel. She hadn’t left the bed since discovering I’d lied about the negotiations, about her family knowing about our marriage.
Seeing her curled up, refusing to eat, refusing to talk, drained me. I wanted the woman whose laugh filled the space, whose smile lit up the room, not this shadow of herself.
Why did I care so much about her happiness? It shouldn’t matter. But, it did.
I sighed, as I pressed two fingers on my temple and massaged it in small circles.
A soft knock broke the silence.
“Come in,” I barked.
Ninel entered. Her cheeks were hollow, dark circles shadowed her red, puffy eyes, and her dark hair fell over her shoulders, making her look even paler.
My fingers tightened around the pen and I heard it crack under the pressure. She looked like a damn corpse.
I wanted to rush to her, but I forced myself to stay seated, clasping my hands together…waiting.
“I just wanted to thank you for the paintings,” she said, her voice monotone.
She didn’t move, just stood there, hands clasped behind her back.
“Anything else?” I asked.
“I want to see my family. I miss them. I want to know how they’re doing.”
“No. Anything else?”
“Why not?” Her silver eyes glared like fucking molten lava.
“Because I control who you see. And right now, you’re not allowed to see them.”
“Then my hunger strike continues.”
I leaned back and shrugged. “I could force-feed you.”
“And I’d force myself to bring it up. I hope you’re ready to explain to the brotherhood how your wife died in your house,” she snapped.
I clenched my teeth. I had no doubt she would do it.
“So, you’re willing to become a martyr?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Then so be it.”
She stepped out of the office, but instead of slamming the door, she left it wide open. I rose, shut it myself, and returned behind my desk.
A defiant wife was one problem. My siblings were another.
My relationship with them had changed. Zahkar and Yegor now only spoke to me when necessary.
That suited me well enough. As long as the faction ran smoothly, what they did with their feelings was their concern, not mine.
When I stopped by the family mansion to collect a file, Kira made her stance clear.
She didn’t say a word, just glared, then turned her back on me.
The next three days escalated. More attacks, more blood spilled.
Kolya reported the Safin faction had taken hits as well.
Ruslan kept me updated on Ninel. She still refused to eat, still locked herself away in the bedroom.
I gave him permission to check on her three times a day, to confirm she was alive, nothing more.
After another hit, I got home after midnight, needing a few clean suits for the headquarters office. When I stepped into the bedroom, I stopped short. The bathroom door was wide open, and Ninel’s upper body was sprawled on the carpet, unconscious.
“Fucking hell…”
Heart pounding, I picked her up. She felt fragile in my arms, and looked worse than the last time I saw her.
You should've left her there, Artie. She took her stance, you should've stuck with yours. I ruled your mother with an iron fist. Learn to do the same with your damn wife.
Despite how my father thought I should treat my marriage. I knew this shit had gone far enough.
I laid her on the bed and called the doctor, informing him of her little hunger strike. Within the hour, he arrived, and set up an IV. She didn't even stir. He said she’d be fine by morning, that she should eat in small portions for the next few days. Then, he left.
After he was gone, I sat back in the armchair, watching her.
Ninel dying because she’d been denied something I could easily give her was not an option. I wouldn’t allow it.
If I had to bend, I would…but only on my terms.
She didn’t stir until around ten that morning. Her lashes flickered, then her eyes opened. It took her a long moment before she turned her face toward mine.
“I’ll grant you your wish to see your siblings,” I said, coldly. “But only if you eat over the next two days.”
She nodded.
I walked out of the room and kept my distance after that.
But Ruslan kept me updated, and she was eating. It was enough for me to make the call to Konstantin. I needed him to arrange everything without a single mistake.
On the second night, I had Ruslan tell her I’d be there at eight to dress warm: long sleeves and jeans.
When I walked into our bedroom at exactly eight, she was already sitting on the bed waiting. Her eyes lifted, meeting mine. She looked healthier than she had before, but I knew damn well it was makeup she had plastered on her face.
“Ready?” I asked.
She nodded once.
I guided her outside, my hand at the small of her back. Not a word passed between us as I helped her into the SUV and took my place behind the wheel.
Thirty minutes later, we crossed into Safin territory. The shift in her was instant, her shoulders squared, and her eyes brightened.
But when I turned toward the club Avit and Pyotr ran instead of Lev’s house, her head whipped toward me, and suspicion darkened her gaze.
We pulled up a few feet from the club, and I killed the engine. Her hand flew to the seat belt latch, but I caught her wrist before she could undo it.
“We’re not leaving the vehicle,” I told her, my grip firm on her hand, my eyes holding hers.
Her brows furrowed. “What? Why? How the hell am I supposed to see my brothers then?”
“On video.”
Ninel looked as though she was about to protest but thought better about it. If she had done it I would've turned the damn car around to let her know that I controlled her movements and it wasn't the other way around.
I pressed the button on the dashboard, and a screen slid into place. My fingers flew over the controls until the feed connected. Her five brothers appeared sitting in the office inside the club.
The raw tangled sob that tore from her throat gutted me. Her shoulders shook as she stared at them.
I half expected her to scramble, to claw at the door in desperation trying to get out.
She wouldn’t have been able to since I'd flicked on the child lock on her door.
And even if she screamed until her throat bled, trying to get someone's attention from outside, it wouldn’t matter.
The vehicle was soundproof, and none of the windows could go down.
Thankfully, she didn’t do any of those things.
Instead, she sat there, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.
I could handle her anger, her defiance, her sharp tongue. That was the Ninel I knew how to control. But this version of her, the one breaking apart silently right in front of me…
Fuck. I wasn’t built for that.
We sat in silence for the next hour, eyes fixed on the muted video. She had stopped crying about forty-five minutes ago, but every now and then a faint sniffle broke through.
Then, abruptly, she turned to me.
“Why do you hate my brothers? Why do you want revenge on them this badly?”
I lifted a brow. “Them marrying Katya and Vera the way they did doesn’t warrant revenge?”
“Not if your sisters are happily married with children.” Her gaze held mine. “I’ve heard Katya’s and Vera’s side of it. I’d like to hear yours.”
“Since when did my side of the story matter when I'm a villain in everyone's eyes?” I snapped.
“It does to me,” she said softly.
My eyes narrowed.
“Artyom, please.”
That soft plea together with the look in her eyes loosened my tongue.
“Two years ago, Lev came to me for Vera’s hand, offering the Eastern European smuggling route as his negotiation. That route had been on my radar for years, so I accepted.
When Lev didn’t show up to the wedding, it wasn’t just an insult, it felt like he was spitting in my face, saying Vera, who he had chosen, was no longer worth binding himself to.
I’d already begun laying the groundwork with the cartel, using that route.
When Lev changed his mind, it fractured my alliance, costing me millions. ”
My hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“And then, to make matters worse, he had the audacity to call and tell me that he wanted to fix his mistake and annul his and Katya's marriage, and marry Vera instead. But he changed his mind…again…knocked Katya up and left me with a ruined deal. Do you know what came after?”
It was a rhetorical question but she answered anyway.
“No, tell me.”
Through clenched teeth I continued, “For months, the cartel didn’t just threaten me. They threatened my brothers and sisters. Lev’s betrayal put targets on all their backs. His choice cost me more than money….it cost me power, respect. And in this life, without those things, you’re already dead.”
I expected her to defend Lev but she didn't. Her eyes softened. “Is the cartel still after you and your siblings?”
“No, I was able to execute him, before he executed me.”
She didn’t even flinch. Ninel sat there as if I’d told her the recipe to a damn cake, not confessed to ending a man’s life.
I’d seen Bratva men wives break with less…seen them try to mold outsiders into our world, only to watch them shatter under the pressure of the blood and violence. But Ninel? She absorbed it. Accepted it. Because she was one of us.
It struck me then how much I craved this. Craved her.
How much I needed a wife who wouldn’t recoil from the truth of what I was. The monster I had to be. Someone who could look at me, covered in blood, and still see me…want me…
The only thing she sees is an evil son of a bitch, Artie. That's all you'll ever be to a woman. Fucking accept it. I trained to be a damn killer. Not some fucking emotional fratboy.
Ninel's voice yanked me back to the present. “Will there be a blow back from their allies? Do you still have to watch your back and your siblings’ from the cartel?”
It didn't go over my head that Ninel didn't just listen to respond, she listened to understand why I wanted revenge on her brothers. And with each question she asked and each soft gaze of understanding that she gave I felt my control slipping.
“For every one person we kill there is a possibility that at least two of their allies retaliate. But as a faction leader, I'm on top of it.”
I didn’t tell her that my parents’ deaths weren’t some tragic accident, but the result of a negotiation gone to hell. That the bastard my father trusted turned on him at the last moment, sold him out and aligned with another organization, leaving my father standing alone in the crosshairs of fury.
I swore then that I’d never let myself or my siblings end up the same way.
In our world, a man’s word is his fucking bond. Break it, and you’re nothing but a walking corpse waiting for the bullet. I may be a manipulative bastard, but I live by a code. A code that had helped me to keep myself and my siblings alive this fucking long.
“And with Jaroslav,” she said hesitantly. “Why are you angry with him?”
“He kidnapped Vera, made her believe that she was responsible for Lev's decision to marry Katya. When I realized that Vera had gone missing I tore through Vegas inside-out looking for her.”
I leaned back and closed my eyes as I remembered the helplessness I felt thinking that the cartel had taken her. How I had to keep Kira preoccupied because she was in her last year of college. If anything had happened to Vera I knew Kira would break.
My voice was cold when I spoke again. “Because Lev and Jaroslav couldn’t handle their business like men, their games made me look weak. Without a clean negotiation, without respect on paper, the founding families started to whisper, to question if I had lost my edge, if I deserved my position.”
I strummed my fingers against the wheel wanting her to understand.
“In our world, whispers are weapons. One day you’re untouchable, the next day you’re a liability. To go from leading one of the strongest factions to watching my name get dragged through the fucking mud because my sisters also defied me? That was a tough fucking blow to take.”
“Do you think if the founding families got a visit from Lev and Jaroslav that they would help fix your reputation?” she asked, hope filling her voice.
“I'm not sure if it would matter at this point,” I stated honestly.
Ninel wanted to help fix things.
And me?
I wanted to take her in my arms and crush her against me.
Nobody had ever tried to understand why I did half the things I did.
My father just demanded I do whatever he asked.
And my mother? She tried to keep me grounded in the allure of childhood wonder for as long as she could.
But, when I exhibited more and more tendencies like my father, she stopped trying to change me…
and never accepted who I grew up to be. Who I needed to become.
Ninel placed a hand on my thigh to soothe me, and slowly moved her thumb along it. The heat from her touch shot straight through me, and I had to bite back a growl.
Goddamn it.
One touch, one innocent hand, and I was about to be undone with my fucking clothes on.
Just then her brothers rose from their seats and filed out of the room. A few minutes later, we watched as they filed out of the club. Ninel's hand squeezed my thigh until they had hopped into their vehicle and sped away.
Slowly, she removed her hand from my thigh. I wanted to put it back, to keep it there. But, I let go the urge to put it back…barely.
“Thank you for letting me see my brothers. I'm glad they're safe,” she whispered, her voice distant. “Take me home.”
Without another word, we drove away. But, something told me that the woman sitting next to me wasn't about to let it go.
And for that I needed to be prepared.