CHAPTER 8
Rodian
During the entire flight to my estate, I can’t tear my eyes away from Anastasia.
Her breathing is too shallow, and I hate how fucking pale her skin is.
I only had one night with her, but it was damn near magical. When she didn’t meet me in front of the theater for our date, I was crushed and fucking angry with myself for letting her walk away from me when my gut told me I wouldn’t see her again.
I almost killed one of her co-workers because they wouldn’t give me any personal information on her, and when she didn’t show up for work again, I believed she was in an accident.
I checked every hospital in the vicinity of her town but came up empty-handed.
Having no choice but to return to Russia, I randomly searched her name along with words like seamstress, theater, and costumes.
Back then, I didn’t have access to the best hackers in the world like I do now.
“Iisus Khristos,” I whisper as I take in how much weight she’s lost. Her breasts aren’t as full anymore, and the sharp collarbones look all wrong on her.
While I carefully brush my fingers over her cheek, the shock hits once again, and for a few seconds, I can’t believe where I found her.
Yegor never mentioned his granddaughter was in Russia, which is fucking weird.
Why the hell did they hide such a beautiful creature from the world?
If I’d known who she was when we met, I would’ve arranged a marriage between us. The entire fucking war could’ve been avoided because I would’ve become Yegor’s successor instead of having to take the Bratva by force.
Why the fuck did the stubborn old man hide her away?
Memories of the night at the theater trickle through my mind. Anastasia’s beautiful smile, and how she slowly warmed up to me. How she melted when I kissed her for the first time, and the sound of her laughter.
By the time we parted ways, I was madly in love with her. For five years, the memory of her waving before disappearing from my sight has filled me with regret.
Anastasia stirs, and when her lashes lift, revealing her green eyes, I cup her cheek and lean closer.
“Hi, krasivaya,” I say, but the noise from the helicopter drowns out my voice.
She stares at me, then her eyebrows pull together, and it looks like she’s going to cry. Instead of tears falling, her irises turn dark with fear, and she begins to tremble again.
Not knowing what else to do, I practically fold myself around Anastasia and press her face into the crook of my neck. Holding her tight, I rub my hand up and down her back.
My eyes lift and meet Andrei’s, who gives me a worried look. Only he, Sergei, and my family know about the night I spent with her and what she meant to me.
When the helicopter finally descends in my backyard, I adjust my arms beneath Anastasia and grip her tightly as I move to get out.
The back door stands open with Dr. Kravets waiting. As I step into the house, his eyes scan over my precious cargo, and he immediately calls out to my housekeeper, “Bring lots of warm water and clean towels!”
Heading through the kitchen and up the stairs, I give him a rundown of everything I know.
“Anastasia is Yegor’s granddaughter. She was held captive by a rogue group.
Her surroundings were fucking filthy, and she was starved for close to two weeks.
” While we rush toward one of the guest rooms, I glance at the doctor and add, “It is fucking important that she lives. Understand?”
He nods quickly, and as soon as I lay her down on a queen-size bed, he checks her vitals.
I step out of the way and glance at the equipment he brought along. Andrei must’ve given him some information because he looks pretty prepared, which eases my worry a little.
Miss Zoya comes into the room with the water, and after setting it down on the table by the window, she rushes out again.
Someone touches my arm, making my head jerk to the side.
“Let’s talk,” Andrei murmurs softly, tipping his chin in the direction of the doorway.
I follow him into the hallway just as Miss Zoya comes hurrying back with towels. When she enters the room, I hear Dr. Kravets order, “Shut the door. We need to clean the patient so I can see her wounds.”
The door clicks shut, then Andrei asks, “Do you want me to cancel the dinner with Atanas?”
“Blyad?,” I hiss as I check the time on my wristwatch. Seeing I still have three hours, I shake my head. “No.”
My friend and underboss gives me a worried look. “How are you holding up?” I stare at the closed bedroom door until he places his hand on my shoulder. “Rodian, talk to me.”
Shaking my head again, I struggle to put into words how I feel. “I can’t believe…” My eyes lock with his. “How the fuck did we not know Anastasia is Yegor’s granddaughter?”
“The bastard wasn’t a family man. He banished Yelena to the countryside, so why would he treat Anastasia any differently?”
“True.”
I blow a harsh breath over my lips, and as I lift my hand to rub the back of my neck, I notice the dried blood.
When I start walking down the hallway, Andrei follows me.
“How are we going to handle Yelena’s death?” he asks as we enter my bedroom.
“I have no fucking idea. Yegor’s associates and Sokolov are going to be up in arms when they find out.
” I stop in front of the sink, and opening the faucet, I wash my hands.
“Let’s keep it quiet for now. I need to focus on Atanas and Anastasia.
” My eyes meet his. “Tell Sergei to stay in Mauritius for another week. I don’t want my family returning and targeted for revenge. ”
He nods, and pulling out his phone, he makes the call while I dry my hands and leave the bathroom. My gaze falls on the walk-in closet, and I pivot to grab one of my T-shirts and boxers.
As we head back to the guest room, Andrei says, “I’m going back to the factory to deal with the group and get shit sorted out there. Call if you need me.”
“I will.” Glancing at him, I add, “Thanks for being my rock.”
The corner of his mouth lifts, the harsh lines on his face softening for a moment before he takes the stairs down to the foyer.
Just as I reach the bedroom, the doctor steps out into the hallway and quietly closes the door before meeting my eyes.
“Anastasia is severely malnourished and dehydrated, but that’s something we can fix.
I’ve started an IV and taken blood, so I’ll have a better idea of what she needs once the results come back.
” He moves closer to me while taking a deep breath.
“There’s an old gunshot wound to her calf, but by some miracle it didn’t get infected and seems to be healing well.
I removed the thread that was used to stitch it up, cleaned the wound thoroughly, and dressed it. ”
A gunshot wound! That fucker can be glad I already killed him.
My jaw clenches from the anger pouring into my chest, making the doctor hesitate before he continues, “She’s covered in bruises, cuts, and scrapes.
But I do have some good news.” My eyebrow lifts.
“Anastasia wasn’t sexually assaulted. Given the circumstances, I’m grateful she was spared that kind of trauma, and her virginity is still intact. ”
It takes me a second to process what he’s telling me, then the anger is drowned out by pure fucking relief. “Thank fucking God.”
He nods and gestures at the shut door. “If everything continues to go well, she should fully recover in two to three weeks. I’ll stop by every day to check on her. She’ll just need plenty of rest, antibiotics, and small meals until her body adjusts to eating normally again.”
Locking eyes with the man, I say, “Thank you.” I lift my arm, passing the clothes to him. “You can dress her in these.”
He takes the shirt and boxers, and when he enters the room again, I get a glimpse of Miss Zoya adjusting a sheet over Anastasia.
The urge to enter the room so I can be close to the woman who I thought was lost to me almost overwhelms me, but instead I say, “Miss Zoya, when you’re done, I need you to prepare dinner. I have a guest coming over at eight.”
“Yes, Mr. Volkov.” The door is shut again.
Needing to find out as much as possible about Anastasia, I pull my phone out of my pocket and dial Tim’s number.
It doesn’t even ring twice before the kid answers, “Hi, boss. What’s up?”
“I’m not your boss,” I grumble. “I need a favor.”
“Anything,” he replies eagerly.
“Yegor Fedorov has a granddaughter. Anastasia. Get every piece of information you can on her. She was born in Russia but lived in the UK until she was twenty.”
“Oh, I was hoping for something more challenging,” the little shit mumbles. “I’ll get back to you soon.”
The call ends, and when the door opens again and Miss Zoya comes out, I’m done waiting and enter the room. “The guest doesn’t like vegetables,” I tell my housekeeper before I turn my attention to the bed. “And prepare soup for Anastasia. I want her to eat when she wakes up.”
Looking way too fucking fragile, Anastasia’s skin is even paler with all the dirt washed away. Noticing her hair is wet, I grab one of the towels that’s on the dressing table.
“I’ll be back tonight at ten,” Dr. Kravets says before leaving.
Sitting down on the side of the bed, I focus on drying Anastasia’s hair while I keep taking in every inch of her face.
Finally, the shock of finding her in that hellhole begins to wear off, and when I toss the towel aside, I place my hands on either side of her head and lean over her.
Besides falling hopelessly for Anastasia, the fact that she’s a Fedorov has me thinking a marriage between us would be the best thing for the Bratva right now.
It will silence Yegor’s old associates and give me the final push I need to take full control over the organization.
Anastasia needs to recover from the ordeal she suffered, but the sooner we get married, the better.
There isn’t a single woman in the organization who’s more fitting to be my wife, and ever since I laid eyes on her, she’s the only woman I’ve wanted.
By the time her lashes stir and her eyes open, I’ve made up my mind. There’s no fucking way I’m letting her slip through my fingers again, especially now that I know she’s a Fedorov.