Chapter Fourteen
Tatiana
T hree weeks later, TAP United Logistics, Boston...
Tatiana lifted the delicate porcelain cup to her lips and savored the rich aroma of the Brazilian coffee. The familiar taste brought a momentary calm as she studied the monthly reports spread across her desk.
“We need to schedule a visit to Atlanta, Levin,” she said as she trailed a finger down a column of numbers that made her stomach clench.
“Why? Everything is running smoothly, and their turnover has gone up ten percent since we left.” Levin lounged in the chair across from her desk. His casual pose belied his sharp attention.
“True, but these expenditures don’t add up.” She pushed several documents toward him. “Look at these fuel costs. They’re thirty percent higher than our projections, yet the mileage logs show standard routes. The maintenance expenses have doubled without any major equipment upgrades or repairs listed. And these administrative costs...” She tapped another page. “They’re scattered across multiple accounts in small amounts, but when totaled, they’re astronomical.”
“Are you worried about clever accounting practices? Perhaps involving your grandfather?” Levin’s gaze sharpened as Tatiana’s lips thinned. “So, you are concerned he’s managed to manipulate Andre to run routes for him.”
“I can’t help it, Lev. I’m not there to keep my finger on the pulse. I know how Gregor Polov operates. How clever and underhanded he is. Andre wouldn’t realize he was transporting drugs unless he’s being paid under the table.”
Raw betrayal surged through her veins. The moment she had left Atlanta, her grandfather had slithered his way into her company, corrupting everything she had built. She had spent years creating a legitimate business, and without thought of how it would affect her, he immediately pounced and turned it into another channel for his criminal empire. The revelation struck like a blade to her heart. Jarek had warned her, and here was once again more proof. She had never been anything other than a pawn to Gregor Polov. A convenient facade for his illegal operations.
“We appointed Andre Becker as the Atlanta Director because he has more integrity in his pinky finger than half of Atlanta’s corporate sharks put together. If there is foul play afoot, I’m relatively certain he’s not involved.”
“I tend to agree, but my instinct tells me there’s a problem. I’m not going to wait until the shit hits the fan, Levin. Make the arrangements. I want you to go with me.”
“That’s if the mighty Mr. Farrel allows you to leave,” Levin scoffed.
Heat flashed in Tatiana’s eyes. “Jarek Farrel is my husband, forced to be exact, but in no shape or form does that mean he has control over what I do or where I go.”
“Very well, I’ll make the bookings. Any specific day you want to go?”
“Let’s leave on Sunday and stay for the week. I want to study the operations without alerting anyone of my suspicions.”
After Levin left, Tatiana stood at her office window, watching planes take off into the crisp autumn sky. A desire to let all of this go and chase her childhood dream of being a pilot surged through her. What bliss it would be to sit in the cockpit and be surrounded by the calming silence of nothingness.
The dream evaporated on a heavy sigh drifting from her lips. The fierce defense of her autonomy from Jarek puzzled her. The burning rage that had consumed her since their marriage had shifted into a confusing mix of opposing forces. Her hatred of his manipulation still simmered beneath the surface. Yet, she could no longer deny the pull she felt toward him or the way her body responded to his touch and how his rare, genuine smiles made her breath catch. Her heart skipped a beat. A baby... he wanted a baby.
“Sexy smiles be damned! I’ll fucking drink venom before I give that lying sack of shit a child. Five years... I can hold out another four and a half.” Still, the dichotomy troubled her more than any of the suspicious numbers in Atlanta’s reports.
Pressing her forehead against the cool glass, she sighed again. Her voice sounded hoarse in the silence.
“Why the fuck does my life have to be so complicated?”
The phone buzzed on her desk. “Your husband is here, Tatiana.” Her PA’s voice sounded winded.
Tatiana grimaced, annoyed that Jarek had such an adverse effect on women wherever he went without even trying.
“I’m busy. Tell him I’ll see him at home tonight.” The door opened before her words faded.
“I’m afraid this can’t wait until tonight.” Jarek’s grim tone sent a chill down her spine as he entered, followed by a middle-aged couple.
Tatiana’s world tilted on its axis. Sky-blue eyes, so like her own, stared back at her from beneath dark, heavy brows—so much like her grandfather’s that her hands began to shake. The silver-haired man’s face carried echoes of memories she had buried decades ago. Her lungs refused to work as her heart thundered against her ribs.
“Oh God,” she whimpered as her gaze shifted to the woman. The elegant blonde’s heart-shaped face bore a smile on lips similar to the ones that Tatiana saw in the mirror every morning. Nausea rolled through her stomach. “No, it can’t be.” Her voice cracked as she looked at Jarek, desperately searching for denial. His steady presence anchored her as the room spun.
“They were in hiding, love. These are your parents.”
“B-But... I don’t understand. How... where?” Violent tremors wracked her body. Jarek’s arm slipped around her waist, and she clutched his hand like a lifeline, needing his strength to keep from drowning in the tsunami of anguish threatening to consume her. “This is a lie. Another devious trick to make me do your bidding.”
“It’s no lie, my darling daughter.” The musical voice triggered a buried memory of soft lullabies in the dark and gentle hands smoothing her hair.
“Thirty years.” Raw pain laced every word. “You’ve been gone thirty years, and now you waltz in here, expecting me to jump with joy?”
“We tried numerous times to get to you, Tatiana.” Maxim’s deep voice scraped against her childhood memories. “We never could get close. My father has had a covert team watching you since the day we were forced to leave.” His face contorted with decades-old terror. “We didn’t intend to leave you behind, but he held a gun to your head while you were sleeping that night. We barely managed to get away alive.”
The horror of that revelation sucked the air from the room. Tatiana swayed, Jarek’s grip tightening protectively.
“Why now? What suddenly changed?” Desperation clawed at her throat.
“Your husband is what changed,” Mila whispered, inching closer with maternal longing etched in every line of her face. “For the first time, there is someone who doesn’t live in fear of Gregor Polov, and now that you’re under his protection, we knew we could finally reunite our family.”
“His protection?” Tatiana’s laugh sounded hollow. “You don’t know anything.” She darted a look at Jarek. “He’s just like Grandfather, or did he forget to tell you that I’m his revenge, his pawn to bring the mighty Gregor Polov to his knees for killing his wife and daughter twenty years ago? But I guess on the upside, I’m better off, right? I mean... since I finally get to meet my parents.”
“You’re bitter,” Mila said sadly. “You need to understand, Tatiana. We had no choice. If we didn’t run that night, Gregor’s assassins had an order to eliminate us. We were so scared that the order extended to you.”
“His own son? His heir and successor to the mighty Polovskaya Bratva empire? I find that hard to believe.” Tatiana couldn’t help herself. All the years of longing and loneliness converged into this moment.
“I refused to become like him,” Maxim said in a quiet voice. “I made it clear that I wasn’t interested in succeeding him. From a young age, he forced me to learn the tricks of the trade, as he called it. To make me like him. I resisted. Every single day of my life. When you were born, I swore I’d take you and your mother away. Gregor wouldn’t allow us to leave. I had to bide my time. To plan, to build a strategy so that we could escape safely and never be bothered by him.”
“It worked. Once you left me, he didn’t care.”
“Because he believed we were dead since your uncle lied to protect us. He was overcome with anger at what your grandfather had done that night.”
Maxim’s voice turned gruff. “The final break came when I witnessed just how cruel my father truly was. Yes, I wasn’t naive. I knew he had people killed, that he had no sympathy or regrets about anything in his life, and I had to learn to live with that. I drew the line at women and children. Your uncle wanted out because his wife was pregnant. He made it clear that unless the Polovskaya Bratva turned into only white-collar crime, he was walking away. Gregor was livid since, until then, Nikolai was the only one of our family who never questioned his decisions. He told Nikolai he would never let him go. That night, he took me with him. He blamed Nikolai’s change of loyalty on his pregnant wife. I tried to stop him, but he was like a madman. He killed Cynthia with a knife, stabbing her in the stomach over and over. His bodyguards held me down, forcing me to watch her bleed out, growling at me to remember what happened to Bratva members, family included, who believed they have a choice. When we came home, I told your mother to pack.”
“Gregor caught us as we went to fetch you. He laughed when your father told him we were leaving. That he wanted nothing to do with the Bratva life. When he realized we were serious, he stormed into your room and held the gun to your head. I’ll never forget his words.” Mila’s voice hardened as she repeated them. “She’s mine. Through you, my blood runs in her veins. If you’re too much of a chicken shit to do your duty, I’ll make sure she takes your place.” She kept wringing her hands. “I had never been so scared in my life as I watched him hold the gun against your head.”
“He continued to say that if we leave, we better run because he would set his entire army after us,” Maxim interjected. “‘No one ever leaves the Bratva, Maxim. You know that as well as I do. Just because you’re my son doesn’t mean you get special privileges. Run... and you die, along with your bitch of a wife.’” Maxim shook his head. “I still hear his voice echo in my mind. It never stops.” His eyes filled with tears as he looked at her. “Maybe now that we found you, it will end our torture.”
The explanation of Gregor’s brutality unfolded like a nightmare. Each revelation carved deeper wounds into Tatiana’s heart. Her grandfather’s nature emerged in stark relief. He truly was a monster who would murder his own family to maintain control.
Jarek remained silent beside her, but his presence radiated strength, helping her stay upright as her world crumbled and reformed. When Mila opened her arms, thirty years of loss and longing crashed through Tatiana’s carefully constructed walls.
“And our regret and longing.” Mila stopped in front of Tatiana and opened her arms. “I missed you so much, my darling girl.”
Tatiana stared at her mother’s outstretched arms, frozen between decades of abandonment and primal yearning. Her throat closed around a sob as the scent of jasmine—the same perfume from her scattered childhood memories—drifted toward her.
“I can’t...” she whispered, even as her body swayed forward. Jarek’s hand pressed gently against her lower back to steady her and offer her courage. “I don’t know how...”
Mila stepped closer with tears streaming down her face. “Just let me hold you, my precious girl. Please.”
The plea shattered Tatiana’s final resistance. She stumbled into her mother’s embrace. Her composure crumbled when Mila’s arms wrapped around her. The familiar curve of her mother’s shoulder and the softness of her hair unleashed a tide of suppressed memories. She remembered the bedtime stories and butterfly kisses, warm hugs, and whispered, “I love yous.”
A keening sound tore from Tatiana’s throat as she clutched her mother. Her knees buckled, but Mila held her up, murmuring soft Russian endearments into her hair.
“I thought you didn’t want me,” Tatiana sobbed against her mother’s shoulder. “I thought I wasn’t enough to make you stay.”
“Never, my darling. Never.” Mila's voice broke. “Leaving you was like cutting out my own heart. Every day without you was torture.”
Maxim’s arms encircled them both. His tears dripped onto Tatiana’s hair. The family circle closed as three decades of separation dissolved in a flood of grief and love.
Through her tears, Tatiana saw Jarek move quietly toward the door to allow them privacy. Before he could leave, she reached out and caught his hand.
“Stay.” He had brought her parents back to her. Despite everything else between them, at this moment, she needed him to be here.
His fingers interlaced with hers as the Polov family clung together, beginning the long process of healing wounds that had festered for thirty years.
Jarek
J arek watched the reunion unfold with a complex storm of regret and satisfaction warring in his chest. The sight of Tatiana breaking down in her mother’s arms struck deeper than he had expected. Her usual iron control had shattered, leaving her raw and vulnerable in a way he had never witnessed outside of a BDSM scene. The sound of her sobs carved into his soul, reminding him of Emma’s tears when she had lost her first tooth.
His jaw clenched against the unexpected grief flooding him. He had orchestrated this reunion as part of his plan, telling himself it was another strategic move against Gregor. But watching Tatiana collapse into her parents’ embrace and witnessing thirty years of pain pour out of her, he realized he had given her back something precious—something he could never recover for himself.
When her hand reached for his, the gesture knocked the breath from his lungs.
“Stay.” In a moment of her greatest vulnerability, she sought his strength. Despite knowing what he was, what he had done, she wanted him there. The trust in that simple gesture humbled him.
He threaded his fingers through hers, noting how perfectly they fit together. Her grip was desperate, as if he were her anchor in the storm of emotions threatening to drown her. The irony wasn’t lost on him. He had married her to destroy her grandfather, yet here he stood, offering comfort as her world transformed.
Watching Maxim and Mila embrace their daughter, Jarek remembered with bitterness what real love looked like—not the twisted version Gregor Polov had perverted upon Tatiana for his own ends. The pure joy and devastating grief on their faces spoke of decades of longing. They had sacrificed everything to protect their child, while Gregor had sacrificed his own family for power.
Regret of the path he was on surprised him. His life would have been very different if he had cherished his family’s memory rather than turning into the Dark One for vengeance. He shook it off before the thought fully formed. He was long past living in regret. What was done was done.
A fierce protectiveness surged through him as Tatiana’s tears kept flowing. He might have started this as revenge, but standing here, witnessing this moment, a fundamental shift happened inside him. For the first time since losing his own family, the ice around his heart started to crack.
Her hand tightened in his as he stepped closer, offering silent support. Whatever came next, he had given her back her family and he would ensure no one—especially not Gregor Polov—would ever tear this family apart again.