Taisiya
Istep out of the shower and wrap myself in a fresh towel, my skin still tingling from the heat and the way Vadim just looked at me.
My hands are steady, which is a miracle considering the Kaverin name is currently screaming through my head like a siren.
I try to remember if my mother ever mentioned the name again, but I’m drawing a blank.
Vadim follows me, a towel wrapped around his waist. He reaches into the wardrobe and pulls out a dark suit. The man who fucked his wife into the bed is gone. The man preparing for war has returned.
“You look like you’re going to a funeral,” I say, my voice sounding smaller than I want it to.
“I am. I just haven’t decided whose yet.”
It sends a tremble through my body, spiking my blood. Fear and lust war with each other. I never thought I’d be a woman who was turned on by violence, but with Vadim, he makes it sexy, especially when he’s protecting me.
I resist the urge to take him back to bed and look at the clothes hanging up… and I bottle it. “Do this without me,” I blurt out.
He pauses to look at me, but then carries on pulling his pants on and doing them up. “You sure?”
“Yes. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m not Bratva, I’m a bartender. I will cry or be terrified, especially if things go sideways. I’ll stay up here.”
“We don’t even know if Kaverin is coming here,” he points out, pulling on a crisp white shirt, the fabric stretching over his broad shoulders.
He doesn’t look away from the mirror as he buttons it.
“But if that’s what you want, you stay in the bedroom.
Ivan will be outside the door. If Kaverin sets foot on my property without an invitation, he won’t get past the front door, and he probably knows that. ”
“Probably?” I squeak.
“Probably,” he smirks and pulls on his jacket, adjusting his cuffs before he smooths down his hair. “Pick me out a watch. Top drawer.”
I walk to the dresser. My fingers feel clumsy as I pull the drawer open. Rows of watches sit in little compartments. Most of them have too many dials. I pick one with a silver band and a simple black face. It is heavy. I walk back to him and hold it out.
Vadim takes it. He snaps the band shut on his wrist. He stares at me. I wonder if he is disappointed that I’m hiding. I’m a coward for staying in this room while he faces God-only-knows-what, but I don’t have his iron stomach.
“Stay away from the window,” he says.
I nod, glancing at the window with the curtains drawn.
He checks his reflection. He doesn’t look like the man who just spent an hour fucking me. He looks cold. He looks dangerous. He is a man who kills people who piss him off. The transition is seamless.
“If things go wrong, Ivan will take you to the sound-proofed room.”
My fingers clench in the towel. “You’re scaring me.”
“There is a way out into the street from there. Stay with him. He will take you to Baron’s.”
“I thought you said the most they could do was start an argument?”
“Precaution. I always have a plan B.”
“What if this is about me and he wants to see me?”
He steps closer and cups my cheek. “Then he has to get through me.”
I place my hand over his. “Good answer. But don’t die.”
“If Kaverin gets to you, I’ll be dead.”
“Vadim, don’t…”
“Honesty, dorogaya, remember?”
“What happens to me if you die?”
“Baron will look after you.”
“You mean sell me off to the next nearest single man?”
His expression turns vicious. “If he does that, I’ll haunt him for the rest of his miserable life.”
“But he won’t know that, nor will he care. I doubt he believes in ghosts.”
He presses his lips together and exhales through his nose. “Do you want to come down?”
I blink. “No.”
“Then let me do what I do.”
“Sorry,” I murmur. “I’m second-guessing you when I’ve already admitted to knowing fuck all about this life.”
Vadim brushes his thumb over my bottom lip. He doesn’t say another word before he turns and strides out of the room. The door clicks shut. I am alone in a room that feels empty without his presence.
I walk to the bed and sit on the edge. The silence in this house is different now. It isn’t peaceful. It’s heavy. I look properly at the sapphire on my finger for the first time since he slipped it on. The blue stone is deep and dark. I think about my mother. I think about the lies and the secrets.
There is no noise. This house is enormous and completely solid.
I strain my hearing for the sounds of doors opening.
There is nothing but the soft patter of rain against the window.
I stand up and stare at the bed. It’s a mess with wet patches that bring heat to my cheeks.
I start pulling the sheets off, wondering where the spares are.
I can’t wander around looking for them, nor can I ask Ivan.
I bunch them up and stuff them in the hamper and then jump a mile when my phone buzzes.
I snatch it up and see who’s calling.
Aliksa.
I hesitate but then answer it. “Hello?”
“Tai? Finally. Where have you been? And why didn’t you tell me you got married?”
“It was… fast,” I murmur. “Everything okay?”
There’s a weighty pause. “The police have been around asking questions. Turns out Gregor Melnikov was stabbed not far from here.”
“Oh?” I croak.
“Yeah, guess someone finally got fed up with that creep.”
Pretty much. “Yeah, I guess. What did the police say?”
“Not much. They wanted to know if he’d been in here the other night. I told them he was.”
Dammit. I want to ask her if they said anything about me. If she did, or the manager. But the words get stuck in my throat.
“Why did you call me?” I ask instead.
“Last I heard from you, you were texting me about fake passports. I know it’s not for a friend, so don’t try to bluff me. The Voronovs are… dangerous, Tai. I was worried I sent you into the lion’s den.”
“I’m fine… I chickened out.”
“And then met some rando that you married? You think I’m buying that?”
I frown at her tone. “What exactly are you implying?”
“I gave you that name. If you went off and became a Bratva bride, you and I are going to have a fucking problem.”
“Excuse me?” I’m slightly taken aback by her tone. I expected more worry about Gregor’s murder, not some jealous bitch act.
“You heard me,” Aliksa snaps, her voice sounding like static in my ear. “That was my contact. If you ended up in his bed, know that is where I should be, and I’m coming for it.” She hangs up, and I stare at the phone like it grew a head.
My hands shake as I drop the phone onto the bedside cabinet.
Aliksa is a fucking snake. I thought she was a friend, but she just admitted she wanted Vadim for herself.
Or she wanted the money he has. Either way, she’s another person I can’t trust. My head thumps.
Everyone in this city has a hidden motive.
I pace the room. The sapphire ring catches the light. It reminds me of the deal I just made with my body. Vadim is downstairs facing a man from my mother’s past, and I’m up here getting threatened by a jealous bartender. It’s pathetic.
I grab the phone again and stare at Aliksa’s name in my recent calls. My thumb hovers over it for a second before I lock the screen and toss it onto the mattress.
No.
I’m not calling her back. I’m not begging for an explanation from someone who just showed me exactly who she is. If she wanted Vadim, she should’ve said that before giving me his name and pretending she was doing me a favour.
My stomach twists.
Did she send me to him because she thought somehow, she’d get a foot in the door? Like I’d tell him who gave me his name and how grateful I was, and he would fall all over himself to get her into his bed?
“Deluded fucking bitch,” I mutter.
A knock sounds at the door.
I nearly climb out of my own skin. “What?”
“It’s Ivan,” he says from the other side. “Are you decent?”
I look down at my towel. “No.”
“Then I will wait.”
I snatch my robe from the chair and pull it on, tying the belt too tightly around my waist. “Fine. Come in.”
The door opens, and Ivan enters with a stack of folded bedding in his arms.
I glare at it. “How did you know?”
“Mr Voronov told me to bring it up. I’ll make up the bed—”
“No!” I say, mortified. “I will. You do not have to do that.”
“It’s my job, Mrs Voronova.”
That stops me dead in my tracks. The title, not the fact that housekeeping is his job.
“Don’t call me that.”
Ivan blinks once. “Would you prefer madam?”
“I’d prefer Tai. We’ve been through this.”
“Mr Voronov would prefer Mrs Voronova.”
“Mr Voronov can take his preferences and file them somewhere painful.”
Ivan’s expression stays serene, but I swear amusement warms his eyes. “I will make a note.”
“Ivan.”
“Tai,” he says, and somehow makes it sound formal enough to be carved on a plaque. “May I make up the bed?”
I look at the sheets in his arms, then at the bare mattress behind me. Heat rushes up my neck again. “I stripped it already.”
“I noticed.”
“Do not notice.”
“It is very difficult not to notice a bare mattress.”
“You know what I mean.”
He gives me a faint bow of his head. “I will be discreet.”
“That ship has sailed, hit an iceberg, and sunk.”
“Then allow me to recover what remains.” He steps toward the bed.
I move in front of him. “I can do it.”
He point-blank ignores me and flicks out a sheet that somehow lands perfectly aligned on the king-sized mattress.
Of course it did.
Even the sheets obey him.
I decide not to protest again. I’d still be wrestling with getting the corners lined up, and he’s already moved on to the duvet. The phone on the cabinet buzzes again.
Ivan’s hands pause on the duvet for half a second. Mine go cold.
“Don’t answer it,” he says mildly.
“That wasn’t a suggestion kind of tone.”
“No.”
I stare at him. “Who taught everyone in this house to say no like it’s a complete legal system?”
“Mr Voronov. The elder.”
Baron. “Right.”
The phone keeps buzzing. I glance down.
Aliksa again.
My jaw tightens. “It’s just a bitch from work.”
Ivan smooths the duvet with unsettling efficiency. “Bitches from work can still cause problems.”
“You know, for a man who serves tea and makes beds, you say a lot of ominous shit.”
“I have lived a full life.”
The buzzing stops. I exhale, then immediately hate myself for feeling relieved.
Ivan places the pillows at the head of the bed and steps back to inspect his work. It’s immaculate.
“Thank you,” I mutter.
“You are welcome.”
He turns toward the door, then pauses. “Mr Voronov asked that you remain in this room until he returns.”
“Asked?”
Ivan’s face gives away nothing.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not going anywhere. It was my idea to stay here.”
“It was a wise one. People who do not know the Bratva have no business arriving in situations they cannot handle.”
“Agreed. Vadim thought I might want to.”
“He was giving you a choice.”
“Even if it is dangerous?”
“There is no danger. He would’ve ensured your safety.”
“By potentially dying. Yeah, we had that conversation.”
“Mr Voronov is a very difficult man to kill. Many have tried and failed.”
“I’d rather no one tried because of me.”
“Understandable. He is an obsessive man.”
My blood runs cold. “Meaning?”
Ivan turns back to me fully. “Meaning he will protect what he considers his with more force than most people understand.”
The phone buzzes again.
This time, both of us look at it.
Aliksa’s name lights up the screen, demanding attention like she has any right to it. The anger that rises in me feels cleaner than fear. I snatch the phone off the bedside cabinet before Ivan can tell me not to.
“Tai,” he says.
“You answer it.” I thrust the phone at him.
If he is surprised by it, neither his expression nor his judgy eyebrows show it.
Ivan takes the phone and answers with terrifying calm. “Yes?” There is a pause, then he says, “I strongly suggest you forget this number. Mr Voronov does not take kindly to threats against his wife.”
“Wife?”
I hear the shriek from where I’m standing, but again Ivan is impassive.
“That is correct. I will pass this phone call along to Mr Voronov’s security team—” He smiles and places the phone down. “She hung up.”
“Shocking,” I mutter, then give him a nod. “Thank you. But don’t tell Vadim. He doesn’t need the stress.”
“It will be our little secret, Tai. Now, would you like some tea?”
“Yes, please,” I croak, wondering how he remains so calm in the face of a shitstorm and whether I will ever reach that point.