Chapter 37
MARIYA
Ican't stop staring at Andrey as we sit in the library. My mind keeps circling the same impossible question. How did my father know where I was?
The answer settles in my chest with uncomfortable certainty.
Papa knew because he's been watching, keeping tabs on me even while he's on the run from half the Bratva.
The thought should terrify me, but instead it fills me with a strange warmth.
He hasn't abandoned me. He's still protecting me the only way he can.
And he trusted Andrey to rescue me.
That realization hits harder than I expect. Papa could have come himself, could have risked everything to pull me out of Anatoly's house personally. But he didn't. He sent Andrey instead because he knew my husband would move heaven and earth to get me back safely.
The thought makes my pulse quicken. I glance at Andrey again, studying his profile in the dim light from the lamps.
"How did he know?" I ask quietly.
Andrey's pale eyes flick to me briefly before returning to the road. "Your father has resources we don't fully understand yet. Contacts. Information networks that survived even after everything fell apart."
"But to know exactly where I was…" I trail off, shaking my head. "That's more than just resources. He trusts you," I say softly.
Andrey's hands tighten on me. "He should. I'd burn the entire fucking city to the ground before I let anyone hurt you."
The fierce possessiveness in his voice sends heat through me despite everything that's happened tonight. I reach over and place my hand on his thigh, feeling the muscle tense beneath my palm.
"I know," I whisper. "Now, you need to go to bed." My tone sounds like a mother scolding a child, but I don't care.
The fact that he doesn't argue and instead stands, holding a hand out to me, tells me just how exhausted and weak he is.
We go to our bedroom and I immediately help him get undressed.
It's not a sexual thing. I'm playing nurse, not wife right now.
Once we're undressed, I pull back the covers and he gets under them.
"I need to hold you," he says roughly. "Just for a while."
I nod against his chest, my arms wrapping around his waist as I listen to his steady heartbeat beneath my ear, his hands moving slowly up and down my spine.
Finally, he pulls back just enough to look at my face. His fingers brush along my jaw, tilting my head up so our eyes meet. He leans down and kisses me. It's gentle at first, almost tentative, like he's afraid I might break.
I kiss him back harder, needing to feel his strength and the reminder that we're both safe now. His hands slide into my hair, holding me steady as the kiss deepens. When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard.
"I was terrified," he says into the darkness. "When I realized you were gone, when I couldn't find you… I've never felt fear like that."
"Well, you took your damn sweet time rescuing me," I say, but there's no heat to my words and I even offer a small smile to let him know I'm teasing.
He frowns and shakes his head. "They disconnected the GPS we had on you and then somehow lost us. None of my men saw where you went. I wanted to kill them for messing up like that, putting you in such danger. I still might."
"It's over," I say soothingly. "It's not their fault and you need your men, so don't kill them."
He blinks, then chuckles, pulling me back into his chest. "They're lucky you're here to talk sense into me."
"I was scared I wouldn't see you again," I admit softly after a few minutes.
His grip tightens. "You'll always see me again. No matter what happens, I'll find you. I'll always find you."
The certainty in his voice makes something warm bloom in my chest. I reach up and trace my fingers along his jaw, feeling the slight stubble there.
"Andrey," I whisper.
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
The words slip out before I can stop them, honest and raw. Andrey goes very still beneath me, his breathing stopping for a heartbeat.
"Say it again," he says roughly.
"I love you." The words come easier this time, more certain. "I think I have for a while now."
His eyes search mine, and I see something shift in his expression. Something vulnerable and fierce all at once. "Mariya…"
"You don't have to say it back," I start, but he cuts me off with a kiss.
When he pulls away, his forehead rests against mine. "I love you too. God, I love you so fucking much, it terrifies me."
My breath catches. We stare at each other in the darkness, both of us surprised by the admission, both of us wondering how we got here. From a kidnapping and forced marriage to this. To love.
"When did you know?" I ask softly.
"I don't know exactly." His thumb continues its gentle path across my cheek.
"Maybe when you stood up to me that first week.
Maybe when you started running the household like you were born to it.
Or maybe it was when you looked at me during dinner one night and smiled, and I realized I'd do anything to see that smile again. "
We kiss again, slower this time, savoring it. When we finally settle back into the pillows, I'm tucked against his side with his arm wrapped securely around me.
"Sleep," he murmurs against my hair. "We'll figure everything else out tomorrow."
I close my eyes and let exhaustion pull me under, safe in the knowledge that I'm exactly where I belong.
The next morning, I wake with a sudden certainty that makes me sit up in bed.
"The cemetery," I say out loud.
Andrey stirs beside me, his pale eyes opening slowly. "What?"
"Papa left me a message at the cemetery before. Maybe he left another one."
Andrey is fully awake immediately, his expression sharpening. "You think he'd risk going back there?"
"I think he'd risk anything to let me know he's okay. He's already proven that by calling you." I'm already climbing out of bed, reaching for clothes. "We need to check."
Twenty minutes later, we're pulling up to the cemetery gates. The morning is cold and gray, with mist hanging low over the headstones. I lead Andrey to my aunt’s grave, my heart pounding with anticipation.
There, tucked beneath a small stone near the base of the headstone, is a folded piece of paper.
I grab it with shaking hands and unfold it carefully. Papa's handwriting fills the page, and my eyes blur with tears as I read.
My darling Mariya,
I'm so relieved you're safe. When I heard what happened, I knew Andrey would move Heaven and Earth to bring you home. I was right to trust him with you.
I can't tell you where I am or when we'll see each other again. But know that I think of you every day. I'm proud of the woman you've become and I love you more than words can express.
Stay safe, my daughter. Trust your husband. He'll protect you when I can't.
All my love,
Papa
I press the note to my chest, tears streaming down my face. Andrey's arm comes around my shoulders, pulling me against his side.
"He's okay," I whisper. "He's still out there."
"He is." Andrey's voice is gentle. "And he's watching over you."
We stand there for several minutes, the cold seeping through our clothes. Finally, Andrey guides me back to the car, and we drive home in comfortable silence.
Back at the estate, I read the note again in the warmth of the library, memorizing every word. Andrey pours himself a glass of vodka and settles into one of the leather chairs, watching me with those intense eyes.
"Can I see it again?" he asks after a while.
I hand him the note, expecting him to read it quickly and hand it back. Instead, he studies it carefully, his brow furrowing in concentration. He holds it up to the light from the window, turning it at different angles.
"What are you doing?" I ask.
He doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he pulls out his phone and takes a picture of the note, then enlarges the image on the screen. His eyes narrow as he zooms in on the top right corner.
"I knew it!" he exclaims suddenly, making me jump.
I turn from where I've been browsing the bookshelves. "What?"
He motions me over. I cross the room and lean over his shoulder, looking at the phone screen. He points to the top right corner of the paper in the photo.
"Look at this. The color is slightly different here."
I squint at the screen. He's right. There's a faint discoloration in that corner, barely visible to the naked eye but obvious when enlarged.
Andrey zooms in further, and suddenly, I see them. Numbers. Tiny, carefully written numbers hidden in the paper's texture.
"Oh, my God," I breathe.
He enlarges the photo even more, and the numbers become clearer. They're arranged in a specific pattern. An address.
"It's a location," Andrey says, his voice tight with excitement. "Your father left you coordinates."
My heart pounds. "We need to go there. Right now."
"Mariya—"
"Please." I grab his arm. "What if he's there? What if this is his way of telling me where to find him?"
Andrey's jaw tightens, but I can see him considering it. Before he can respond, footsteps echo in the hallway outside the library.
The door opens, and Matvey steps inside. His expression is carefully neutral, but I catch the tension in his shoulders.
"Boss," he says, looking at Andrey. "Sophia is here. She's asking to speak with Mariya."