Chapter 16 Andrey
ANDREY
The words hang in the air between us, heavy and final. Mariya stares at me like I've just told her I'm planning to throw her off a cliff.
"We're getting married on Friday."
Her green eyes widen, and for a moment, she's completely still. Then she explodes.
"No." She stands from the bed, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Absolutely not. I'm not marrying you."
I push off the door and take a step toward her. "It's not a request."
"I don't care." Her voice rises, sharp with fury. "You can't just decide we're getting married. That's not how this works."
"Actually, it is." I move closer, and she backs up until she hits the wall. "It's for your protection."
She lifts her chin, defiant even though I can see the pulse racing in her throat. "You mean, it's for you so that you have access to me and whatever information you think I have about my father."
"That's part of it." I place my hands on the wall on either side of her head, caging her in. "But other families are finding out about you. Soon, they'll be coming after you, and they won't be as nice as I have been."
She laughs, but the sound is dark, disbelieving. "Nice? I wouldn't call kidnapping and locking me in a room nice."
I lean in closer, close enough that I can smell that floral shampoo that's been driving me crazy. "Do you really think you'd be treated better by another Pakhan? Do you think they'd bother to take you with them as they follow the clues your father left behind?"
My mouth finds hers before she can protest. She fights me, her hands pushing against my chest, but it's a token resistance. I can feel the way her body responds, the way she melts against me, even as she tries to push me away.
"Do you think they'd kiss you like this?" I murmur against her mouth.
I deepen the kiss, my tongue sliding against hers, and she makes a small sound in the back of her throat that goes straight to my cock. Her fingers curl into my sweater, pulling me closer even as she tries to maintain some semblance of control.
"Stop," she gasps when I break the kiss to trail my lips down her neck.
"You don't want me to stop." I bite down gently on the sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder, and she shudders.
"But I will." I raise my head and lean toward her ear.
"Just imagine these kisses, and much more, when we're married," I whisper, then walk away and leave her room without a word.
I make it three steps down the hallway before I stop. The image of her flushed face, her parted lips, the way her chest heaved with each breath burns in my mind. Fuck it.
I turn around and stride back into her room, locking the door behind me.
"What are you—"
I cross the distance between us in two strides and capture her mouth again. This time, there's no pretense of restraint. My hands slide down her sides, feeling the curve of her waist, the flare of her hips. She's wearing those damn leggings again, the ones that hug every inch of her ass and thighs.
"Andrey, we can't—"
"We can." I grip her hips and pull her against me, letting her feel exactly how hard I am. "And we will."
"This doesn't change anything," she protests, but her hands are already sliding under my sweater, her nails scraping against my abs.
"It changes everything." I pull her shirt over her head and toss it aside. The sight of her breasts straining against the lace of her bra makes my mouth water. "You're going to be my wife, Mariya. You need to understand what that means."
"I didn't agree—" she begins, but then she gasps when I unhook her bra with one hand and let it fall to the floor. Her breasts are perfect, full and round with dusky pink nipples that are already hard. I cup them, feeling their weight in my palms.
"It means I get to touch you whenever I want," I say, ignoring her verbal protest about getting married. I lower my head and take one nipple into my mouth, sucking hard. She arches against me, her fingers tangling in my hair.
I hook my fingers into the waistband of her leggings and pull them down along with her panties.
She steps out of them, and I take a moment to just look at her, naked and flushed, her skin glowing in the afternoon light streaming through the window.
The neat triangle of dark hair between her thighs, the way her stomach tenses as I stare at her.
I slide one finger through her folds. She's soaking wet, her body betraying every word of resistance that comes out of her mouth.
I circle her clit with my thumb, and her knees buckle.
I catch her with my other arm, holding her steady as I work her with my fingers.
Adding a second finger, I push deep inside her tight heat.
She's gripping me like a vise, her inner walls fluttering around my fingers.
Her head falls back as I pump my fingers in and out, curling them to hit that spot that makes her cry out. My thumb keeps working her clit in tight circles, and I can feel her getting closer. Her breathing becomes ragged, her nails digging into my shoulders through my sweater.
"That's it," I encourage, my voice rough. "Let go."
She comes with a strangled moan, her body shaking in my arms. I work her through it, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure until she's boneless against me.
I pull my fingers out and bring them to my mouth, tasting her. Sweet and tangy and addictive. Her eyes widen as she watches me lick them clean. Then, without a word, I step back and take a deep breath. She's beautiful, intoxicating like this, naked and trembling from her release.
Her eyes widen even more as I take another step backward, forcing my body to calm down. My cock throbs and my balls feel like they're going to explode, but it's important to me that I show her that I'm not the type of man who thinks only of his own pleasure.
"You—" she pauses and swallows thickly. "Aren't you going to… finish?"
My smile is tight. It's all I can do to walk away when my body is demanding I take her here and now, finish what I started.
"That was for you, Mariya," I say and take another step backward. I need to put distance between us before I lose my restraint. "I'm not a selfish man."
Before she can answer, I turn and leave her room.
Matvey and three of his men are waiting in my office when I get there. They stand when I enter, their faces professionally blank.
"The wedding is Friday," I announce without preamble. "Private and quiet. Just us and whoever we need to make it legal."
"Understood, Boss." Matvey pulls out his phone to make notes. "I'll arrange everything."
"I want guards on Mariya twenty-four, seven. Two men minimum, rotating shifts. And increase security around the entire estate. Double the patrols."
"That's going to stretch us thin," one of the other men says.
"Then pull people from other operations if you have to." I lean back in my chair. "This is priority one."
"What about the cabin?" Matvey asks. "We were supposed to go today."
"Postponed." I run a hand through my hair. "We need to get the security situation locked down first."
Matvey nods and continues making notes. We spend the next twenty minutes going over logistics, guard rotations, and security protocols. It's tedious but necessary work.
"Boss," Matvey says when we're wrapping up. "There's something else. We have a man in the interrogation room."
I raise an eyebrow. "Who?"
"Caught him snooping around the property about an hour ago."
"Let's go have a chat with him."
The interrogation room is in the basement, soundproofed and equipped with everything we need to extract information. The man is tied to a chair in the center of the room, his face already showing signs of a beating.
"Who sent you?" I ask, circling him slowly.
He spits blood on the floor. "Fuck you."
I nod to Matvey, who steps forward and drives his fist into the man's face. I hear the crunch of his nose breaking, and blood pours down his chin.
"Let's try again," I say calmly. "Who sent you and why?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Another nod. This time, Matvey goes for the ribs. The man screams, the sound echoing off the concrete walls.
"You're making this harder than it needs to be," I tell him. "Just answer the questions, and this ends."
We go on like this for another ten minutes. Matvey breaks another rib. Then he starts on the fingernails, using pliers to rip them out one by one. The man's screams turn to sobs.
"Okay, okay!" he finally gasps. "My Pakhan sent me. He wanted intel on the girl."
"What kind of intel?"
"Everything. Who she is, why you have her, how well she's guarded." He's crying now, snot and blood running down his face. "He wants her for himself. Says she's valuable."
"How does he know about her?"
"I don't know, I swear. He just told me to scope out your place and report back."
I believe him. Low-level soldiers like this rarely know the full picture. "Who else knows?"
"I don't know. Maybe other families? He was talking like it was common knowledge."
Shit. This is worse than I thought. If multiple families know about Mariya, the threat level just increased exponentially.
"Take him to the holding cells," I tell Matvey. "We'll decide what to do with him later."
As Matvey's men drag the sobbing man away, my watch vibrates against my wrist. I glance down at the alert and frown.
It's not the perimeter alarm. It's not someone trying to break in.
It's the tracker I had installed in Mariya's room.
She's trying to escape.