CHAPTER 10
Anastasia
It feels like I’ve been sleeping for weeks by the time I fully wake up and feel rested enough to take in my surroundings.
I have no idea how much time has passed since Rodian found me, but as I glance around the room that’s suited for royalty and unlike anything I’ve ever stayed in, I get the feeling it’s been a few days.
My memory is shot to hell, but there are glimpses of being fed, a man who I think is the doctor checking on me, and Rodian sitting beside me.
When I hear movement, I open my eyes, and seeing Rodian coming into the room, fear fills my body. I quickly sit up, only noticing afterward how much stronger I feel.
Today he’s dressed in an immaculate suit, and this time it fits his muscled build perfectly. Besides his hair that’s longer and him looking older, he reminds me a lot of when we met at the theater. It takes a blow at my bruised heart, making me want to weep.
How can I mourn something that never truly belonged to me?
All those times I heard Ms. Fedorova talk about Volkov, she was probably referring to Rodian. Jesus, I never knew he was Grandfather’s underboss. Instead of figuring it out, I wove stupid fantasies around the enemy.
The corner of his mouth lifts as he comes closer, but it doesn’t make him look less scary. “You seem to be doing better today. How do you feel?”
I don’t know. How am I supposed to feel after being abused, humiliated, and almost killed?
Wrapping my arms around myself, I rub up and down my biceps as I whisper, “Okay.”
He sits down beside me, and it has me pulling my legs to the side so we don’t touch. Lowering my gaze, I have no idea how to interact with him and begin to feel very unnerved.
“Where do we start?” he asks, but it doesn’t really sound like a question, then he says, “You have your father’s last name. Donovan.”
I nod, still keeping my eyes averted.
“You were raised in the UK and brought back here the night after we met, then you dropped off the face of the planet. You didn’t touch your bank account again, and there’s no digital footprint of you. Fill me in on what happened.”
Knowing he’s the pakhan and refusing to answer won’t end well for me, I keep my tone respectful as I answer, “Because I was turning twenty-one, Ms. Fedorova came to get me. I was taken to my grandfather, but he wasn’t happy with me, so Ms. Fedorova took me to the country house where I was her maid for the last five years. ”
Up until now, his tone has been controlled, but when he speaks again, it’s rough and deep. “A maid? Why do you call your mother Ms. Fedorova?”
I bristle from the anger simmering in his words and curl into myself as I whisper, “That’s what she told me to call her.”
Suddenly, Rodian reaches for my face, and I flinch hard, a peeping sound escaping me. My eyes fly to his, and seeing the anger etched in hard lines across his rugged features fills me with terror. My heartbeat speeds up drastically, and my mouth quickly grows dry as breaths burst over my lips.
Moving slower, he cups my cheek while shaking his head. “I won’t hurt you, Anastasia. You’re safe with me.”
I don’t believe that for one second.
“You took over the Bratva.” Fear trembles in my voice. “I’m your enemy.”
He shakes his head again, his thumb brushing over my skin and making tingles spread under his touch. The sensation catches me completely off guard because I haven’t felt anything good in a really long time.
“We’re not enemies,” he says. “If Yegor weren’t so stubborn and hid you from me, an arranged marriage between us could’ve stopped the war.”
Hearing that he would’ve been willing to marry me has me gaping at him as if he’s lost his mind.
“What’s the weird expression on your face?”
“My grandfather was ashamed of me. It’s just… funny, for lack of a better word, that the one thing he rejected could’ve saved his life.”
“Right?” He lets out a dark-sounding chuckle, sending a fresh wave of fear through me.
I glance away, and it has Rodian saying, “Don’t do that. Look at me.”
Reluctantly, I return my gaze to his face, which is even more handsome than I remember, even though he looks dangerous as hell.
“Why was Yegor ashamed of you?”
The humiliation I’ve been forced to endure makes my cheeks grow warm. “They wanted a skinny and perfect Bratva princess. No man would want to marry…” I almost say fat but hate the word and instead finish with, “…someone who looked like me. I was of no use to the family.”
Glancing down at my stomach rolls that are visible under the shirt even though I’ve lost a lot of weight, I suppress the urge to cover them with the bedsheets.
I used to love my body, but being a plus-size woman repeatedly made me a target, and now it feels like something I have to hide in order to stay safe.
“That’s bullshit,” Rodian growls, his fingers moving to my chin and tipping my face up so I’ll look at him again.
Rage burns in his eyes, making tremors rack through me.
“When I laid eyes on you in that theater, you were the first woman ever to capture my attention.” He leans closer, commanding all my attention. “And you were impossible to forget.”
Instead of feeling flattered, his words only remind me of what I’ve lost and make me want to cry.
While I’m struggling with my chaotic emotions, he drops a bomb on me that shakes me to the core.
“I will marry you.” If he weren’t holding my chin, my jaw would’ve dropped to the ground. I inhale a sharp breath, and before I can process what he just said, he continues, “As soon as you’re better, I’ll make arrangements for the wedding. It will bring peace to the Bratva.”
“W-what?” I gasp, shock hitting me in waves and making my head spin.
Rodian leans even closer until it feels like the intense energy that he gives off is threatening to consume me.
With a serious expression on his face that makes panic coil around me like a boa constrictor, he orders, “You and I are going to get married and put an end to the war.”
The darkness in his tone tells me it’s an order I don’t dare disobey if I want to stay alive.
Unable to keep eye contact with the pakhan, I pull my chin free and lower my head. My gaze falls on my trembling hands, and I bite my bottom lip so it will stop quivering.
“Anastasia.” Rodian’s voice is softer this time, but I just don’t have it in me to look up.
He moves closer, and gripping hold of my shoulders, he pulls me toward him. My body goes rigid, and the shivering grows when he wraps his arms around me. As he presses a kiss to the side of my head, I jerk in his hold.
“You liked me once,” he murmurs. “You will learn to like me again.”
I liked the stranger who made me feel special and took an interest in my work and asked me if it was okay to hold my hand.
A sob builds in my chest, but instead of escaping, it just sits there.
I liked the man I got to know that night, who not once said anything about the Bratva.
The one holding me now commands an army of monsters. His world is dark and dangerous, and it has sucked the life from my very soul.
Rodian is going to make me marry him.
Not because we’re in love. It’s a strategic move to gain more power.
Any hope I’ve ever had of living a normal life where I can be a seamstress at a theater is obliterated with one brutal blow.
The man who was supposed to save me has become my captor, and once more, awful choices are being made for me.
Unlike with Ms. Fedorova, where I could escape into my dreams, I’m forced to stay present as hopelessness suffocates me.
We hear movement, and when Rodian lets go of me, I keep my face turned away. I listen as he speaks Russian to the housekeeper who knows some broken English. At least she’s been kind to me.
Now that I’m forever stuck in this godforsaken country, I’ll have to learn the language.
The aroma of eggs and toast hits me, making my stomach growl so loud that my face goes up in flames.
“Dr. Kravets said you can eat more from today,” Rodian informs me. “We’ll talk again after you’ve had breakfast.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Rodian and the housekeeper leave, and unable to resist, I throw the covers back and dart out of bed. I rush to the round table, and while sitting down on one of the chairs, I pick up a slice of cheese and pop it into my mouth.
Oh God.
After having only soup for the past few days after the week and a half of starvation, I’m unable to pace myself. Moans drift from me as I find comfort in the wonderful breakfast, and by the time there’s nothing left, it feels like my stomach is going to burst.
At least I’m allowed to eat delicious food here.
I glance around the room again, taking in the soft cream covers I’ve slept in and the beautiful dressing table. There’s a shelf with three small burgundy pots, the plants’ leaves hanging down like waterfalls.
Getting up, I walk closer to look at a thick book, but it’s in Russian. It seems to be about geography, though.
Noticing an ensuite bathroom, I step inside and shut the door behind me. Desperately wanting a bath, I put the plug in the tub and open the faucets.
After relieving my bladder, I take off the shirt that’s clearly a man’s and barely notice the boxers I’m wearing as I glance down at all the bruises covering my body.
Flashes of being kicked and hit whenever I wasn’t cooking bombard me, and a distressed sound escapes me.
Before I can attempt to stop it, I’m dragged back to the memories of the nightmarish week and a half.