Brutal Bratva Boss: Forced Marriage

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 Brutal Bratva Boss

Forced Marriage Mafia Romance

Dubrov Bratva Book 1

DEVA BLAKE

Copyright © 2024 by Deva Blake.

All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of the book only. No part of this book may be reproduced,
scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form, including recording, without prior written permission from the
publisher, except for brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are
used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
 Contents
Chapter 1 - Kat
Chapter 2 - Fyodor
Chapter 3 - Kat
Chapter 4 - Fyodor
Chapter 5 - Kat
Chapter 6 - Fyodor
Chapter 7 - Kat
Chapter 8 - Fyodor
Chapter 9 - Kat
Chapter 10 - Fyodor
Chapter 11 - Kat
Chapter 12 - Fyodor
Chapter 13 - Kat
Chapter 14 - Fyodor
Chapter 15 - Kat
Chapter 16 - Fyodor
Chapter 17 - Kat
Chapter 18 - Fyodor
Chapter 19 - Kat
Epilogue - Fyodor
About the Author
Books by Deva Blake
 Chapter 1 - Kat
The hairs on my arms stand on end as cool air brushes over my skin. It is a gentle, refreshing reminder of where I am,
and what I am about to do.
Bodies bustle on either side of me down the sidewalk, amongst them a few students I met at the last bar I stopped to
have a drink in. One of the girls hooks her arm in mine before leaning over to shout something in my ear that I do not quite
catch. Not that it matters; there is a good chance I will never see any of them ever again. So, I smile and nod as she points to the
dark building rising in front of us.
As my heels click against the pavement, anxiety rises in my chest as it always does, reminding me of what could go
wrong, about the risks of being associated with my father’s world. And as always, I tamp it back down.
Most days I am a pawn, a chess piece in my father’s bid for dominance. I have little say over what I do, where I go, or
what I wear. Every move is monitored by one or more of my father’s minions. My routine is pre-determined, and I am expected
to abide by it. For the most part, I do, following all the rules like a good daughter.
But not tonight. Tonight, I do not share blood with the head of a powerful syndicate. In my short, skin-tight black dress
and red gladiator heels, I am not caught in the prison of my life. I am simply Kat; a college student who barbeques with her
parents on the weekends, has a chihuahua named Rex, and sometimes blows off steam with friends—aka the strangers I met an
hour ago who have no idea who I am.
When we reach the door, we do not head to the back of the line like I expected. Instead, we are ushered in by one of the
bouncers ahead of everyone else. I realize this was likely what the girl was trying to tell me. It must be good for business for
them to let in a few scantily clad women for the men to look at.
The moment we pass through the heavy doors, I am assaulted by loud techno music that vibrates through my chest.
Down a flight of steps in the middle of the room, the dance floor is barely visible through thick clouds of smoke that billow out
of machines in each corner. Even with the ceiling as high as two stories, the fog still spills over onto the landings that wrap
around the dance floor, creating a blanket that hugs the bodies congregating there. It’s a comforting scenario. It means I should
be well hidden. Even though I have gone out many times and not been caught yet, I am always worried about one of my father’s
lapdogs happening upon me. My few days of stolen freedom would be over.
Tina, the girl with the hookup who got us in—I only know her name because one of the other girls just called her by it—
grabs my hand and tugs me towards the bar.
“We are doing shots, right?”
Shots to kick start the enjoyment of the night? Definitely. “Sure, why not.”
By the time Tina and I get to the bar, the girls have lined up little glasses containing golden liquid. Looks an awful lot
like tequila. Why is it always tequila?
A shot is shoved in my hand just as one of the girls shouts, “Drink up, bitches,” and then we are all tossing them back.
The liquid burns its way down my throat, stealing my breath and making me question my every decision leading up to
this point. And yet, I know I will be doing another one soon. Sure enough, a few minutes later, one of the girls buys another
round that we all toss back again before making our way to the dance floor.
The moment my heels leave the bottom step and touch the dance floor, I feel my anxiety lift. The alcohol has already
started to take effect, flowing through my limbs and loosening them. With Tina and my other newfound friends in tow, we claim
a small spot and start dancing.
Pushing aside all my everyday thoughts, I let the music take over as I sway my hips. I lose track of time, lifting my
hands over my head as I move, only dropping them to twist my long dark hair over one shoulder as the temperature on the
dance floor rises.
At one point, we all head over to the bar for another round of shots. I buy the round after that, discreetly pulling my
credit card out of my cleavage. I did not bring a jacket or a bag, and my second-skin dress does not have pockets, so it was the
only place to put it. As I am tucking it away, Tina nudges me. “Looks like you have an admirer.”
Following her gaze, my eyes land on an attractive guy in a business suit leaning on the bar. He smiles, raises his glass,
and winks. I shake my head. “No thanks.”
“What?” Tina gapes at me. “Why not?”
“Because he looks like he works in stock markets and drives a Prius.”
“So? What’s wrong with that? And he’s hot!”
 Because he does not seem like the kind of person my father could gain something from. The only way my father would
part with me is if he got something out of the deal. He has made that very clear. He does not know it, but I am aware of the talks
of marrying me off to one of his business partners to sweeten a deal.
My train of thought has barely left the station when Wall Street ambles over. He gives me a toothy smile. “Hi. I’m
Kevin.”
Tina walks over to talk to a guy a few steps away, I presume to give us some unneeded privacy.
I smile politely. “Hi, Kevin.”
Kevin’s hair is slicked back with at least half a tub of product, the crusted strands glistening under the dim lights.
Oblivious to social cues, he leans in to shout over the music. “I work at the glass building three blocks over.”
I’m not familiar with this area, but I would put money on that being a trading company. I snort a laugh. “I suppose you
drive a Prius too?”
“I do, how did you know?” Kevin chuckles, like me guessing right is a good thing. He rocks back on his heels and gives
me a shy smile. I am surprised he had the courage to come over. He seems to be lacking in the backbone department.
My father would chew him up and spit him out. So would I, if I’m being honest.
I shrug. “Lucky guess, I suppose.” Grabbing Tina by the elbow, I give Wall Street a two-finger salute. “It’s been real.”
“What happened?” Tina asks as I pull her away from the bar.
“Not my type,” is my curt reply.
“Your loss is my gain later.” Tina shakes her head, throwing her hands up in surrender before stalking back to the dance
floor.
I’m about halfway down the stairs when a shiver works its way up my spine, making the hairs on the back of my neck
stand on end. Spinning around in a panic, I scan the room for any familiar faces but come up empty. After another sweep of the
room, I am convinced I must be imagining things and relax. I have only been dancing with the girls for barely a minute when the
hairs on the back of my neck stand up again, though. This time when my gaze sweeps over the room, I do find someone
watching me.
Off to one side, a dark figure leans casually against a pillar. Head cocked and arms crossed, he stares at me. When our
eyes meet through the fog, he does a slow sweep of my body that feels like a caress over my skin. As much as I am caught off
guard by his blatant appraisal, I can’t look away. As soon as his gaze meets mine again one side of his mouth tips up and he
pushes off the pillar, stalking towards me.
I use the word stalking because it feels a lot like I am the prey, caught in the sights of a hunter. There is hidden power in
his saunter, as if every muscle is wound tight waiting to be let loose. Unlike the guy from earlier, this man’s custom suit hugs
every inch of his frame, pulling tight across his biceps and chest.
The music and people around me fade away until all that is left is this man and how I’m frozen in place, unable to move
an inch to escape.
He comes to a stop in front of me, so close that the tips of our toes touch and I have to tilt my head back to maintain eye
contact. He is almost a head taller than me, and the aging on his face hints at him being perhaps a decade older. Not that that
diminishes how attractive he is. With his dark hair, thick matching eyebrows, full lips, and angular jaw, any woman would be
mad to refuse him, myself included. His nose is slightly off-set as if it has been broken before. Somehow, this just adds to his
allure.
He doesn’t say anything as he stares down at me. It is unnerving.
“Hi,” I breathe.
One side of his mouth tips up before he lowers his head, pushing my hair over one shoulder before his lips brush
against the shell of my ear. “Are you having fun?” His voice is deep and full of promises, sending a shiver down my spine.
He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, but he is still close enough that when I nod the short strands of hair hanging
over his forehead brush against my skin.
My answer must please him because he smiles at me as he runs the back of his hand over my shoulder, down my side,
and settles his palm on my lower back.
“I’m here with my friends,” I blurt, motioning to the group of girls behind me.
He spares them a dismissive glance before bringing his mouth to my ear again. “Do you want to get out of here and have
even more fun?”
 Chapter 2 - Fyodor
Every night is the same. The same types of people walk through the doors of the club, looking for the same things. The
men are usually in search of a quick, easy, and on the women’s part, unsatisfying lay. The women want an escape from their
dreary lives. Sometimes, they are on the hunt for some rich sap not smart enough to realize that the only reason a gorgeous
woman is talking to him is to trap him into handing over a sizable sum of money in exchange for keeping their pleasure-filled
night a secret from his wife. That, or they get them drunk enough to pass out in the hotel room so they can rob them blind.
Either way, most of the people who come into the club hold little to no appeal. Other than to pass the time; I do have
needs, after all. But watching people move through the club also means I know what to expect. That makes it boring. That does
not mean that I do not still enjoy the simple pleasures. It just means that when I see something, or someone, different, it excites
me.
So now my breath is caught in my chest as I stare down at the woman in front of me, waiting for her answer. A strange
feeling moves through me, almost as though I am waiting for the floor to drop out from under me. It is not something I am
accustomed to. I do not approach women, they come to me, and I never have doubts when propositioning them. They rarely turn
me down, and if they do, there are plenty of other women in line. Much like my business deals, in my dealings with women, I
always come out on top. And they leave happy to have had one night of pleasure. I never let them get too close. It is not a
luxury I can afford in my line of work or in the rest of my life either.
The moral of the story: I always get what I want.
And right now, I want this woman. This woman who looks like sin, in a dress so tight I could probably rip it with my
teeth—something I plan on doing later—and heels so high it makes her bare legs look like they go on forever. Her dark hair and
the thick makeup around her eyes are a direct contrast to her pale skin. The only colors in her ensemble are her pouty red lips
and matching shoes.
And yet, there is an innocence about her, something that makes her stand out from the rest of the crowd here to have a
good time. I feel a pull towards her that I can’t explain.
I have been watching her move around tonight, watching as she swayed her hips to the music in ways that had an array
of images running through my mind. I have seen men set their sights on her and one ballsy child made his way over to her. A
thrill ran through me when she did not pay him much heed, rendering my plans of stepping in to get rid of him redundant.
Because tonight, she is mine.
As I stare down at her, I watch about six different emotions flash over her face, none of which suggest she does not
want this, before she nods.
Smiling, I grab her hand and pause just long enough for her to tell her friends she is leaving, but she does not make a
move to do that. She takes a step towards me, never breaking eye contact, and raises her free hand, wrapping it around the back
of my neck. She stares up at me for a beat, and I watch as she swallows thickly, seemingly frozen. Unsure, perhaps?
Not one to keep a lady waiting for any reason, I wrap the hand holding hers around her lower back and use the leverage
to pull her body flush with mine before I mold my mouth over hers. This means the arm of the hand I’m holding is pinned
against her lower back, but she does not seem to mind.
I brush my lips over hers a few times before pulling her bottom lip between my teeth and biting softly. The grip around
my neck tightens and she parts her lips, so I slip my tongue inside to brush it over hers. After a few strokes where things heat up
considerably, I realize if we do not make our way to the exit soon, I will be taking her on the nearest surface.
I pull away, tugging her hand to lead her to the exit. She matches my strides, wrapping her hand around my bicep as I
tuck her into my side. We only make it halfway to the exit with her seductively running her hand over my arm before I pull her
into one of the dark hallways and use my body to pin her to the wall.
I crush my lips to hers for a moment before pulling back when she pushes on my chest.
“Wait,” she breathes. “I don’t even know your name.”
For a beat, I just look at her. Who I am is not something I share very often given the world I am a part of.
And especially not with my extracurriculars.
My hesitation must last longer than I think, because the woman in my arms smiles and says, “I’m Kat.”
My decision made, I reply, “My friends call me Theo.”
Kat’s tongue peeks out to run across her bottom lip, her eyes dropping to my mouth. “Theo,” she breathes.
I run my hand down her side, squeezing her hip as I bring my mouth to her ear. “I like the way that sounds. By the end of
tonight, you will be screaming it.”
Her lips brush my earlobe before I feel the sting of her teeth. “I’m counting on it.”
We have an adjoining building on one side of the club that is usually reserved for business dignitaries when they are in
town. Sometimes, I make use of it to fulfill my needs; it is a lot less messy than taking a woman home. Everything in the room is
replaceable, including the vase that falls off the dining table that I deposit Kat on so I can hike her dress up. The sounds of
fabric tearing and clay shattering mingle with the needy noises she makes as I run my hands over her bare skin. Her legs
wrapped around my hips make it easy to push my hands under the fabric to where her behind meets the base of her spine. This
also means my face is now buried in her chest, so I can give her breasts some much-needed attention.
Kat’s head falls back, her fingers tugging on the longer strands of hair her hands have been buried in. We push and claw
at each other for some time, until I hoist Kat up, walking her to the bedroom where I drop her on the bed. She maintains eye
contact as I strip down to my birthday suit and nod for her to do the same.
After that, primal nature takes over, for both of us it seems. There is no finesse, no easing into anything, and every touch
between us seems charged. The thought that this is unlike any other encounter I have had flits through my mind many times.
That is why it is such a kick in the balls when I wake up the next morning to find the space next to me cold, and the
woman I shared my bed with gone.
 Chapter 3 - Kat
A rough hand runs over my hips and up my body, brushing the sides of my breasts. Fingers curl into the hair at my nape
and pull my head forward for full, domineering lips to crash down onto mine. I part my lips slightly and a tongue pushes
through to tangle with mine—all the while skillful fingers between my legs play me like a well-tuned piano until I’m
breathless.
“Theo,” I beg as my back arches off the bed.
Theo pulls back until his eyes meet mine. His grin turns wicked as he looks down at me and continues his assault,
bringing me to the edge over and over but never quite letting me fall.
My body writhes in ways I never knew possible as I claw for a release that’s just out of reach.
When I think I can’t take it anymore, he adds his tongue to the mix. Again, he brings me to the edge but doesn’t give me
enough to let go.
I’m almost incoherent by the time he climbs up my body and buries himself deep inside me, setting off an orgasm so
powerful my body convulses for what feels like an eternity. The spasms continue to ripple through me as he chases his own
orgasm, and even after he collapses on top of me.
Theo is a hulk of a man, with corded muscles on every inch of his body that I was able to see when my eyes weren’t
squeezed shut from the pleasure. Even though the weight of him is crushing me at the moment, I don’t dare utter a word for him
to move. The rhythmic beating of his heart against my chest is unusually comforting, a moment I wish I could freeze and keep
with me.
I bite back my protest when he pushes himself up to look down at me, and my breath catches in my throat when he leans
down to give me the sweetest kiss, so at odds with the way he played my body just minutes before.
When he lifts his body off mine, cold air hits my skin, sending a shock through me …
I jolt upright, my eyes adjusting to the dark room. My room. Not the room where I had what was possibly the best sex of
my life.
Bringing the back of my hand to my forehead, I wipe away the sweat running down my brow. My sheets lie rolled to
one side, my body bare except for the thin layer of silk pajamas. My skin is covered in beads of sweat, a result of the sultry
memories that plague my dreams like they have every night for the last two weeks. During the day, flashes of the night I spent
with the stranger I know only as Theo invade my thoughts. They come at the most inopportune moments, and every time without
fail, my legs start to quiver. As much as I hate to admit it, they are also how almost every self-love session starts.
Shifting my heavy limbs to roll out of bed, I pad over to the bathroom to pour myself a glass of water. When I see my
reflection in the mirror, I’m unsurprised to find my hair a mess and my skin flushed. I look similar to how I did when I snuck
out of Theo’s hotel room in the early morning hours. A familiar twinge of guilt crops up for a second before I push it aside.
It was just one night of fun, nothing special. Even as I think the words, though, I know they’re a lie.
The way his body felt against mine, the attentive way he touched my body, how he felt inside me, even the way he
looked at me. There was this energy between us that I have no words to describe, which is crazy because I don’t even know
who he is. All I know is that every encounter from here on out will be compared to Theo. Every touch will be measured against
the feel of his hands on my bare skin. As much as I don’t want it to be.
It’s unsettling given I’ll probably never see him again.

***
Over the next few weeks, the sleepless nights and plagued waking moments die down slightly. That does not mean I do
not still wake up sweating and aching for release or feel a breeze and remember how Theo’s breath felt on my skin. I do, but
the hours in between have been getting longer. In the days that follow, I start feeling off. A fatigue I have never felt before hangs
over me like a thick fur coat drenched from the rain. I do not have an appetite, and when I do eat, I struggle to keep anything
down. Ivan, our chef, tries making me chicken soup but even the smell of that sets me off and has me dry heaving over the toilet
bowl.
I downplay it and tell Ivan that it is probably just something I ate that did not agree with me. Convincing Ivan not to tell
my father is easier than I thought, likely because he makes the food, and if it is indeed something I ate that made me sick, Ivan
would be responsible. No one wants to endure the wrath of my father by shouldering the blame.
 My reason for keeping my father in the dark is more selfish. Weakness is something that is not well received by him,
and I will not dare give him a reason to start thinking of me as a problem that needs to be fixed.
That is a surefire way to get myself married off to one of his goons or for him to start making deals with business
partners. I have been able to stave off the planning of such things up until now by being all but invisible, and I intend to keep it
that way for as long as possible.
After five days of feeling like a bag of dicks and walking around lightheaded and dizzy, I decide it is time to visit the
pharmacy. I tell Boris that I want to go for a drive to a park on the outskirts of my father’s domain where I am less likely to be
recognized. Boris is one of the men who has been with my father the longest. He is a sweet man—as sweet as one can be in his
line of work—and has always said I remind him of the daughter he never had. He is the one I get to take me shopping; he gives
me more freedom than anyone else. He is not even mad when I give him the slip to go out now and then because I come back in
one piece, and no one has ever caught on to it.
Even considering that, I do not dare mention the plan to visit the pharmacy; it would just end with me being told
someone can get what I need for me. That means I would need to tell someone what is wrong, and it could get back to my
father.
When we are close to the park, a pharmacy comes into view.
I lean forward so I can look at Boris. “Could we make a quick stop at that pharmacy?”
Boris meets my gaze in the rearview mirror before looking at the road again. “If you need something, we can have
someone pick it up.”
“It seems like a waste for someone to make a trip when we are right here, don’t you think?” I give him the sweetest
smile I can muster. “Please? I’ll be quick, I promise. I just want to pick up some womanly essentials. I’ll even get you some of
those gelatin sweets you like so much.”
Boris looks at me for a moment before he shakes his head and smiles. “You really know how to butter me up, don’t
you? Alright, just let me turn around.”
He follows me to the pharmacy door where I turn and hold a hand up. “You can wait here.”
“That is not a good idea,” he says as he shakes his head.
It is a good idea considering I do not want anyone knowing I am about five minutes away from dropping to the ground
from dehydration and need meds to fix it.
“Did you not hear me saying ‘womanly’ essentials? Come on, Boris.” I motion to the building. “I’m only going inside.
What’s the worst that can happen?”
His lips press into a firm line. After a beat, he nods reluctantly. “Fine. You have ten minutes.”
I put on the large sunglasses I bring for occasions like this and head inside. First, I stop in the feminine aisle, so I have
something to corroborate my story, but I freeze before I grab a box of my regulars. My hand hovers inches from the shelf as my
body goes cold with dread.
After some quick calculations, I come to the conclusion that I am late. Very late. About a month late. My pervy thoughts
and dreams have been keeping me so occupied that I had not realized it. I run through the events of that night again, this time for
a completely different reason. I do not remember us using a condom. Bile rises in my throat as a wave of nausea hits me. We
didn’t use a condom. That would explain my symptoms. How could I have been so stupid?
Hands shaking, I grab a few boxes of feminine products I probably will not need for a good few months. After checking
to make sure no one is watching, I grab a few different pregnancy tests too, tucking them under my arm before getting a load of
electrolytes and pregnancy-safe pain tablets just in case.
I ask for a large brown paper bag to put everything in and clutch it to my chest as I walk out of the building.
When Boris sees me, he frowns. “What happened?”
“What?” I feel like I am on autopilot.
He grabs my shoulders and stares down at me. “You’re pale. What’s wrong?”
Swallowing, I shake my head. “I just realized I haven’t eaten today. I’m feeling a bit light-headed. Can we just go home,
please?”
Boris does not seem happy, but he obliges, taking me home and walking me up to my room.
After he leaves, I head over to the bathroom and dump the contents of my bag on the vanity.
I open the different tests and pee on them one after the other, capping and lining them up in a row.
 While I wait, I alternate between trying to convince myself that they are all going to be negative because it really is just
something bad that I ate and berating myself for having fewer brain cells than a spoon for not using protection that night.
When the timer goes off, I trudge over to the counter and peer at the multiple sticks with their colored lines. Plural.
Every one of them has two distinct lines in the window. Except for the digital ones; those are spelling it out along with a time
frame, just in case I was unsure about how pregnant I am.
My legs buckle, and I grab the edge of the vanity.
I am pregnant. With a stranger's child.
A new form of dread slices through me. What is my father going to think when he finds out? After all the effort not to be
problematic, this is the biggest problem of all. I am no longer the untouched, rare jewel my father has been marketing me as.
Knowing my father, if he found out that I am growing a life inside me, he would take care of it. Discreetly, of course. I
would disappear for a week or two to a ‘spa retreat’ and come back half the person I was before I left. And no one would be
any wiser.
I would also come back to a wedding. My own.
I have seen the looks my father’s business partners give me whenever they are here. I have known for a while that it is
only a matter of time before one of them makes my father an offer he can’t refuse, and I’m sold off like a prized steer in a herd
of cattle. Under these circumstances, my father would expedite it to make sure nothing like this ever happens again.
I would take my own life before agreeing to a marriage with one of those vulgar, violent dimwits. I know what happens
to their women behind closed doors, and I refuse to be treated like another one of their possessions. I will not let my only
worth be tied to what I have to offer and how I can help further their empire. They are just like my father, every one of them.
The only difference is that not one of them is as feared as my father.
Unfortunately, taking my own life is no longer a viable option, not with the result I am clutching in my hand. There are
two lives at stake now.
No, I need to protect the life growing inside me at all costs.
Pacing up and down the length of the bathroom, I wrack my brain for anything I could do. I have no money of my own;
everything I own is somehow tied to my father. Moving small amounts around to fund a night out is one thing, but the kind of
money I would need to make a life for myself and my unborn child, to disappear, would mean a withdrawal from a bank. A
withdrawal would need to get approval from my father, and that puts me right back where I started.
Unless I could convince someone to help me. Someone like the other contributor to the child I now carry. Theo seemed
nice enough; the memories playing in my mind on repeat are evidence of that. And if he felt the connection between us like I
think he did, he might be willing to help me. Based on the custom suit he wore the night we met, he has money. Hopefully
enough to help me and his unborn child disappear.
The next day, I manage to convince Boris to take me shopping close to the club where Theo and I met under the guise of
cheering me up. I give him the slip and retrace my steps from that night, heading towards what might be my last hope.
 Chapter 4 - Fyodor
Red stains the front of my shirt, deep crimson splatters streaking across the white material. The sting in my knuckles is
a much-needed escape from the thoughts that have consumed my mind for the last while. Every blow I administer burns the raw
skin, and on the last swing, I hear the familiar crunch of bone.
The man bound to the chair in front of me coughs and sputters, blood spraying over one side of my pants.
This is not the usual start to my day, but I needed something to focus my thoughts on. I needed a distraction from the
images I can’t seem to get rid of, the woman I can’t seem to forget.
Five weeks. That is how long I have had the memories of that night stuck in my mind, waking up to an empty bed and
watching the footage of her sneaking out of the hotel room with my shirt covering her torn dress. I have had weeks to scour
footage from the club every night in the hopes that she’ll come back, with no luck.
So instead of letting one of my soldiers handle the situation in front of me as I watched, I decided to take matters into
my own hands. Literally.
Anatoly squints at me through swollen eyes, sputtering a few more times. “Fydor, please! Give me a chance to explain.
I can pay you back; I can prove myself to you once more!”
My blood heats, and I grab the arms of the chair as I bring my face down until our noses are almost touching. “Have I
not given you enough time to prove your loyalty? You have had years to show me you would be an asset, someone this
organization could depend on, and you used that time to steal from me. Did you think I wouldn’t notice when the shipments had
one car less than they should have?”
“I can make this right! I can fix this!” Panic creeps into his voice.
I push up, slowly pacing in front of him. “We are past that. You have taken what is mine, and not even for the good of
your family. I could have understood the reasoning of a man doing whatever it takes to provide for his family. But you used the
money to fund your gambling addiction. I welcomed you into my ranks and treated you with respect and this is how you decide
to repay me? You have committed one of the most disgraceful acts; you have betrayed this family. I’m sure you can see how this
would reflect negatively on me if it got out. An example has to be made.”
Anatoly opens his mouth, but I raise a hand to silence him, shaking my head.
“You have two options. You can take this like a man, whatever punishment we decide is fitting of the crime, and that
will be the end of it. Or I can make this quick and painless, and afterward I will pay a visit to your wife and two children and
enforce my example there.” I watch as fear, then defeat, and finally acceptance flit over his face.
His lips turn white as he presses them together before gripping the legs of the chair around which his hands are bound
and nodding.
A look from me is all it takes for Gennady, my long-time torturer, to move forward with his bag of various instruments.
Gennady generally takes great pleasure in extracting information that people are reluctant to part with. But knowing he has no
obligation to keep someone alive is a real treat.
With the situation sorted, I grab the cloth slung over the back of the chair and wipe the blood off my hands. The red
angry skin on my knuckles burns again, worse this time, but it’s still not enough to completely expel the siren in my thoughts.
I climb the stairs of the dark basement and head up to the top floor of the club, maneuvering through the various
hallways until I reach a room at the very end of one. The large window that spans one wall overlooks the now-empty dance
floor. This is where I spend most of my time, watching people come and go every night, small figures that look like ants milling
around.
My brother, Kiril, is standing in my office when I walk in. He waits patiently as I pull an extra shirt and pants from the
closet against one wall and strip off my blood-stained materials before addressing me.
“How did it go?” he asks.
I look at him as I button my shirt. “Gennady is handling it. Afterward, we’ll make sure the other organizations know
how we have punished the betrayer, and they will realize it would not be wise to cross us.”
“And if it does not have the desired effect?”
“Then we find someone else to make an example of. There is no shortage of people we could make use of. We just keep
going until it sinks in.”
Kiril nods. “Let’s hope it doesn’t take that long.”
 “Agreed.”
Kiril is five years younger than me, the third sibling out of five, with me being the oldest. He has been involved in the
business for a while now, taking care of things whenever I am away. He handles some of the smaller business meetings and a
few deals that I do not have the time to devote to. Occasionally, I will take him with me when I need someone I can trust with
my life. Loyalty is an important thing in my line of business, and I would not put it past my competition to find a way of
working a spy into our midst.
Sinking into one of the chairs in front of my desk, Kiril taps the armrest. “Is everything on track for next week’s
shipment?”
I nod. “Yes, it should be. Oleg has already paid off the regular dock workers and arranged with the detectives on our
payroll. There shouldn’t be any hiccups.”
“I’m going to head out a bit earlier, have the men sweep the area just in case.”
“Good idea.” Crossing my arms, I lean back in my chair as I study my brother. “You should take Maxim with you.”
Kiril is already shaking his head before I finish talking. “We already discussed this. He’s not ready for something like
this.”
Maxim is the youngest of us. He has not been very involved in anything too important just yet, but the time for him to get
more involved is rolling in. If only Kiril would stop kicking up a fuss and just teach him.
“I disagree. I think he will do well.”
“Are we thinking of the same brother?” Kiril asks. “Am I the only one who remembers how he passed out when he saw
the blood after he cut his finger? For a Dubrov, he doesn’t have a very strong stomach.”
“So, teach him,” I challenge. “We all had to start somewhere. Help him sort that shit out.”
Kiril stares at me for a beat before nodding reluctantly. “Fine, I’ll think about it.”
His phone rings and he takes the call, standing up to pace the room.
As the rhythmic sounds of his footsteps fill the space, my thoughts slowly drift back to Kat. How her hands felt on me,
and how it felt as I thrust inside her. That’s all it takes. A minute of reminiscing and I am halfway hard. It is inconvenient, to say
the least, given I have not seen her since that night.
Coming from the world I do, there is very little I can’t have. Everything can be purchased for the right price.
Unfortunately, however, you can only purchase something if you know where to find it. And so far, every investigation of my
mystery woman has turned up empty. Every weekend I instruct my security to monitor the cameras in the club with the hope she
will return, and every week I am disappointed when they have nothing to report. It’s like she just disappeared, carried away by
a rogue breeze.
I know I should not be so bothered by one woman. After all, there are so many waiting to spend a night in my bed, but
for some reason, I want this one. And I am losing my patience at not being able to have what I want. The night we spent
together is unlike any other I have had and want a fuck-ton more of it.
“Fyodor.”
I’m pulled out of my thoughts by my brother Paval’s voice. Paval mostly handles things at the edge of our domain, but
once or twice a week he will spend his day at the club. Today he has been running over security measures with some of the
security detail.
He makes his way into the office and holds a tablet out towards me cautiously. “You should see this.”
My brow furrows until I look down at the screen and understanding dawns.
It’s a live stream of the security camera at the front door of the club, and in the middle of the screen is none other than
Kat.
I grab the tablet, clutching the screen in my hands like it’s a lifeline. After weeks of looking for the ghost I shared my
bed with, here she is in front of me. She shifts nervously from one foot to the other as she stands outside the door, unaware of
the camera connecting her image to me.
“Is that her?” Paval asks.
I may have only had one night with her, but her image will forever be seared into my brain. Nodding, I spare him and
Kiril a glance. “Yes, it is.”
“Why is she asking for Theo? You haven’t used that name in years. Who is she? Why have you been so intent on finding
her?”
 “I just want to have a conversation with her.”
A conversation that will hopefully end in more sex.
“A conversation? About what?” Kiril presses.
“Shared interests,” I mumble, making my way over to the desk. I place the tablet on the flat surface, bracing my hands
on either side as I stare down at her.
Even her tiny image is enough for all the memories from that night to come rushing back. Every touch, every moan that
has engulfed every waking moment hits me all at once. I feel her fingertips ghosting over my skin, her legs wrapped around my
waist. I remember the way her nails dug deliciously into the skin on my back when I hit the right spot buried deep inside her.
And I will never forget the way she breathed my name—the one I gave her, anyway.
It is as if Lady Luck has smiled upon me, bringing the object of my desire to my front door.
Hushed whispers catch my attention.
“I don’t know who she is, but this is a problem.”
“He has been distracted.”
“Not his usual self at all.”
“You should have seen him with Anatoly.”
“Things are going to start slipping through the cracks if we don’t take control of the situation.”
Both of them stop whispering when I turn around and stare them down.
“Is there a problem?”
They regard me in silence.
“Well, go on.” I wave a hand. “You both had a lot to say a minute ago.”
Kiril looks at Paval, who shrugs.
Kiril, being the diplomatic one amongst us, steps forward. “We have no problem with you searching for this woman,
but I think you have to tell us who she is.”
My brothers might very well be right, but that does not mean I am going to tell them I have been obsessing over a
woman with a magic pussy. I am not even sure yet what kind of hold Kat has over me and why. I definitely will not be sharing
that with them. I am the head of our organization, and bending over backward for a woman is not something I want to be known
for.
“I have no obligation to share anything with you.”
Paval shrugs his shoulders, ignoring the look Kiril gives him. “If this will have an impact on the organization, you have
an obligation to us to let us know what we’re in for.”
“She is not anyone of importance. And she certainly will not be having any kind of impact on the organization.”
“You’re blind if you think that is true,” Paval spits as he takes a few steps towards me.
Kiril steps between us, holding up a hand in front of each of our chests. “I think what Paval is trying to say is that it
would make us more comfortable if you were able to provide some sort of guarantee that that’s indeed true.”
I brush his hand away. “How many times have I carried us through dark times when no one thought we would make it
out? You’ve trusted me with our fate before, what makes this time any different?”
“Because a woman was never involved before!” Paval pushes against the hand on his chest. “You have a club full of
women lining up for your attention, what the hell makes this one so damn special?”
As much as I would like to put my brother in his place right now, I am aware Kat has already been waiting outside for a
while. I’m afraid that if I leave her out there any longer, she might disappear again, for good this time. And I can’t let that
happen.
“We are not having this conversation right now. We can discuss this later.” I look at Kiril and nod towards the exit.
“Bring her to me.”
 Chapter 5 - Kat
I think this might have been a bad idea. Not only am I standing outside a nightclub in the middle of the day, but I’m
looking for someone who might not even be here.
For all I know, Theo could have been just another guy out for a good time, not unlike I was.
When I asked for him at the door, I was greeted by a few curious looks that have me wondering if someone here knows
who he is. I am hoping they do, or I have got a very big problem on my hands.
I am about five seconds away from turning and walking away to who knows where when the front door to the building
swings open. For a second, I think it is Theo, but then I see that while the man in front of me does bear some resemblance to
him, it is contained to his facial features. Theo was tall and lean, and while the man in front of me is tall, he is more of a
mammoth than a man.
He looks me up and down. “Come with me.” He motions for me to follow him.
Ignoring the uneasy feeling in my gut, I follow him inside the building.
Other than the occasional glance over his shoulder accompanied by a shake of his head and a grunt, we walk along in
silence.
It is eerily quiet inside the club, the empty dance floor a polar opposite of how crowded it was the night I was here.
The air is clear, and I am able to appreciate the architecture of the interior. Large columns run vertically between the different
levels, each one with intricate designs carved into them. Most seem to be assorted kinds of gargoyles, ranging from small
innocent-looking ones to forms resembling monsters.
We head up a set of stairs by one corner of the club floor where another man is waiting for us at the top. Like the
mammoth, this man shares some of Theo’s facial features, except his features are harder and his nose is extremely crooked, as
if it has been broken before and was not able to heal properly. And like the mammoth, this man seems to disapprove of me for
whatever reason. He is just not as subtle about it. He does not try to hide the look he gives me, as if I am accompanied by some
kind of foul odor.
It makes no sense; I have never met these men before, so I have no clue what I could have done to offend them.
When we reach an office at the end of one hall, they usher me inside.
As soon as I walk through the doors, I see him. Theo. He looks the same as he did the night we met, although now I can
see him in more detail. His dark hair is mussed, a contrast to how put together the rest of him looks wrapped in what must be
another custom suit. The lines at the corners of his eyes are deeper than I remember, pushing his age up by a few more years
than I had originally guessed. Dark ink peeks out where his sleeves are rolled up to the elbow, over the muscles of his forearm.
One side of his mouth quirks up slightly when he sees me, but it drops just as quickly when one of the men behind me starts
speaking.
“Fy-”
“Leave us.” He levels a glare at the man.
A few seconds later, the door clicks shut behind me. With that reaction, I am not sure what to expect with the news I
have to deliver.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “I wasn’t sure I would find you.”
“Here I am.” He gives me an appreciative once over before he starts walking towards me.
“Wait.” I hold up a hand to stop him. “I need to tell you something. It’s important, and I won’t be able to think clearly if
you come any closer.”
Theo stops, amusement dancing across his face. “Should I be sitting down?” he asks with a slight chuckle.
“I don’t know, maybe?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
I square my shoulders. I need to get this out one way or another, and there’s no point in dragging it out. “Yes, you should
sit down.”
Maintaining eye contact, Theo leans against the desk, crossing one ankle over the other and folding his arms over his
chest. The muscles in his forearms jump deliciously just like they did when he held himself over me that night.
Stop it! This is neither the time nor place for that.
 “So, about that night ...”
He tips his head to one side. “What about it?”
I figure there is no way to finesse the situation. I might as well just come out and say it.
“We didn’t use protection.”
It’s not a question; I am well aware we did not use any. And I wasn’t with anyone else around that time or since, so
there is no question as to who the father is. The slight smile on Theo’s face fades, his eyebrows drawing down slightly.
“I took a test. Five, actually, and all of them had the same result. I’m pregnant.”
Theo’s eyes drop to the floor, and the silence is deafening. I can’t be certain what thoughts are running through his mind,
but I can take a guess.
“I know you must be wondering if it’s yours. It is. I haven’t been with anyone else in the time period it happened. But
I’m happy to do a DNA test to prove it.”
I have never been one to ramble, but the stillness of Theo’s frame in front of me is unnerving and I can’t stop the words
from spilling out.
“I’m not expecting you to take on any responsibilities, so you do not have to worry about that. I realize this is a shock. I
also won’t be pestering you for child support. I do need to ask a favor, though. I need some money, just enough to get out of
town and go somewhere safe. You will never have to see me again after that.”
There, now he knows he has no obligation other than a lump sum of money. Hopefully, it is enough for him to agree for
me to keep the baby.
At this, Theo’s head snaps up, and the fury in his eyes makes me take a step back. “You are thinking of doing what?”
Or maybe not. I plead my case more. “I’m leaving town. I need to protect the baby and my father …” I trail off.
“What about your father?” he demands.
I am not sure how to convey the gravity of the situation without telling him who my father is. And I can’t risk doing that.
“He will not approve of the pregnancy. He’ll tell me to get rid of it, and I will not do that.” I hope this helps him
understand that I will not consider aborting the life inside me.
Theo is quiet for a beat, his eyes still ablaze. Finally, he takes a breath. “Tell him the child will be cared for. You can
stay here.”
I shake my head, choosing my next words as carefully as I can. “It’s not that simple. My father is old-fashioned, and
arranged marriages are still a thing he believes in. There is no place for a child in that world. And his business partners are not
the kind of people I would want to spend the rest of my days with.”
“What world is that?”
Damn, I hadn’t meant to let that slip.
“It’s a figure of speech. I just mean they’re not very nice people.”
“The world is full of not-so-nice people,” Theo counters.
I shake my head, exasperated that he won’t just give me what I am asking for so I can get out of town before my father
realizes I am gone. “Not like the people in my father’s organization.”
Theo’s brows draw together. “What do you mean, his organization?”
Crap. Again, I hadn’t meant to let that slip. The longer he questions me, the higher the chance of me outing myself as the
daughter of a crime boss. I need to get out of here. Now.
“I mean his company. His businesses.”
“And what does your father do for work?”
“He has a few different businesses.”
Theo nods slowly. “What kind of businesses?”
“Mostly trading.” It’s the most generic thing I can think of that stops people from asking too many follow-up questions.
“Why are you so intent on leaving town, Kat?”
Because my crime boss father will lose his shit when he finds out I am pregnant. He will have me abort the child.
Then he will sell me off like meat at a deli to some unrefined, ruthless half-wit whom he will share Scotch with on the
weekends while they talk about all the ways he is making me suffer for being such a rebellious disappointment and a stain
on his reputation. The only escape I would have from that hellish existence would be to take my own life and hope no one
finds me in time to resuscitate me.
But I can’t say that to him, can I?
So, I settle for, “It’s the best outcome for everyone. I can’t stay here, not if I want my child to be safe and taken care of.
And not if I want to be free.”
“Kat.” Theo says my name slowly as if testing how it sounds. “Is that short for anything?”
I don’t think much of the question. “Katherine, why?”
Recognition flashes across his face for a brief moment. “No reason.”
Theo regards me in silence for a few minutes, until I can’t take it anymore. I suck in a breath, pinching the bridge of my
nose. “Look, are you going to give me the money or not? I already told you I do not want anything else from you. I just want to
be able to leave town and not have to come back.”
Theo pushes himself up to his full height, stalking slowly towards me. “And what makes you think there is anywhere
you could go, anywhere you could take my child, that I wouldn’t be able to find you?”
Panic has me stepping back to put some space between us, but Theo wraps his hand around my arm and pulls me
forward, bringing us nose to nose.
“I have resources at my disposal that you could only dream of. I would use every one of them to bring you back, kicking
and screaming if I had to, so that this child can be raised here. So that it can be raised the right way, being taught everything it
needs to know by its father.” Theo’s smile turns sinister. “It is, after all, a Dubrov, and we look after our own.”
It feels like all the blood drains from my body, flowing into my legs and making them feel heavy.
Dubrov?
It can’t be. Surely, I would have known if I had shared a bed with my father’s greatest enemy. There has been bad blood
between the rival mafia families for years, and now this.
I have heard stories about the Dubrovs, and if even half of what I have heard is true, I have just walked into the most
dangerous lion’s den in Boston. This is so much worse than if I had just told my father. Fear for my unborn child flows through
me. I look around, searching for a way out, a way to escape the perilous situation I have found myself in, but I know there is no
point. Not only have I disgraced my father, the head of one mafia, but I have just given the head of another one the worst
possible leverage to hang over my head. I all but handed it to him on a silver platter. The image of a hog with an apple in its
mouth flashes through my mind. If not for the dread twisting around my limbs, I might have found it humorous.
Instead, I berate myself for making another bad judgment call where this man is concerned.
What have I done?
 Chapter 6 - Fyodor
I watch as the emotions roll in waves over Kat’s face. Her hand flutters to her throat, her eyes wide with shock. She
takes a step back and I loosen my grip on her arm, allowing her to pull free and put some space between us.
My assumption of her true identity was a stretch, just some inkling I had but did not think could be true. But seeing her
reaction has solidified it.
I have heard about Igor’s daughter, the one he keeps locked away like a princess in her ivory tower, out of the eyes of
the public as though she were some precious commodity. Although, from what I know about him, that makes sense. The Patrovs
are known for treating their women as less than, using them as bargaining chips to gain power and favor. Some members of the
older generations in my family’s ranks still feel this way too. I am doing my best to abolish it; it is not something I want to be
known for, but sometimes things slip through the cracks.
When she had initially mentioned being pregnant, my first instinct was to panic. As much as I have been conditioned to
handle anything that gets thrown at me and not lose my cool, nothing could have prepared me for this. A child? I am not in any
position to handle a child. I am a few good years away from settling down if I ever were to settle anyway. It is not something I
have ever thought about if I am being honest. No woman has ever held enough appeal that I would consider spending the rest of
my days with her. But I suppose there could be someone worse to be stuck with than Kat. Even if she is the daughter of my
enemy.
One uneasy thought stands out among the rest, though, clawing for my attention.
What if this is not some freak coincidence, not some twist of fate? What if all this was planned? The Patrovs have been
trying to bring us down for years, to no avail. They do not have the manpower or the cunning to succeed. As much as they feel
otherwise, they have always been a mere blip on our radar, something we keep an eye on to make sure nothing comes to
fruition.
But what if this was the plan all along? Have Kat seduce me, infiltrate our stronghold, and report back to her father
with intimate details that could very well help bring us down.
Listening to the way she talks about her father and the way disgust creeps into her voice, I have my doubts that this
could be the case. Then again, I also saw fear make its way into her eyes when she talked about getting away from him. I do not
know what promises he could have made that would have convinced her to do this, but perhaps if he agreed to grant her
freedom she would have obliged.
Being brought up the way she must have been could make anyone do anything to achieve freedom.
Putting aside the fact that he might have made empty promises to her about what she could gain from betraying me—I
am sure he’d have no intention of keeping a promise like that—he could still find a way to use this to his benefit. Kat might
even be unaware that she is being used. Igor might have found out the details of everything and seen an opportunity to gain
access to us.
That brings another problem to light.
Only minutes ago, I assured my brothers that she would not be an issue and that she posed no threat. I doubt they will
agree when they hear about all of this.
Given the look on Paval’s face, I have a feeling he might already know who Kat is.
I need to approach the whole situation carefully. I know Paval is already of the opinion that he would be a better leader
than me, and I would be handing him a nail for my coffin if he thought Kat had any hold over me. No, I need to get ahead of this.
A plan starts to form in my mind, slowly building momentum as each detail I think of adds another layer to it. There
might very well be a favorable outcome to the shitshow I have found myself in, a way for me to have what I want, to give my
brothers the peace of mind needed to get them off my back, and maybe even stop the war between us and our rivals for good.
Right now, I have something that belongs to my rivals, something important to the functioning of some of their
operations. No doubt Kat has been promised to some middle-aged, power-seeking gnat in exchange for a sizable chunk of his
empire, or whatever Igor has deemed a suitable trade for his daughter.
Scenarios run through my mind one after the other in a steady stream mingled with thoughts of this woman.
As much as I want to believe that what I felt that night was real, and that she felt it too, I cannot be sure of any of that
right now. What I am sure of, though is that Kat is not walking out of this building, no matter what happens next.
I turn and walk over to my desk, putting some much-needed space between myself and Kat. I am also giving myself
some time to think about how to phrase what I have to say. When I turn to face her from across the room, Kat has not moved a
muscle, her gaze focused somewhere on the floor in front of her.
“In case you haven’t realized it yet, I’m not going to give you what you’re asking for.”
Her eyes shoot up to meet mine when I speak. Her shock slowly morphs into defiance, something even I can respect
under the circumstances.
“What?”
“I’m not going to give you the resources to disappear and take my child away from me. You are going to stay right here
where I can keep an eye on you.”
“But—” Kat’s eyes drop down again, darting from side to side. She looks back up after a moment, pinning me with a
glare. “You can’t do this.”
I snicker. “Actually, I can. But don’t worry, you will have plenty of resources at your disposal once we are married.”
Kat’s eyes go wide. “What? No!”
From the moment the plan started to form in my mind, I knew this would be the best option. I gain possession of the
woman who has invaded every waking moment, seeping into my very being under the guise of claiming a power chip that our
enemy could use to their advantage. She will be mine and I will see to it that no other man ever lays a hand on her for whatever
reason.
With Kat as my wife, Igor will have to stop his plans to take over our organization or risk harming his only daughter.
Once we are married, I will make sure the word gets out. I will see to it that every organization far and wide knows exactly
who she is and what has transpired. Igor will have no choice but to fall in line or risk outing the fact that he was in the dark
about the matter. The latter would look very bad for his business, so I am counting on the fact that he would rather save face
than risk opposing me.
With his daughter and soon-to-be grandchild in my possession, I should not face too much resistance. I give myself a pat
on the back. I found a way to kill any thoughts of a war before the Patrovs even had a chance to start planning it. I’ve also
weakened an already subpar organization by taking something of value from them. By binding myself to Igor’s daughter, I have
demolished any chances of him forming an alliance with any of our oppositions. As far as I am aware, Kat is an only child. If
the stories are to be believed, her mother died while giving birth, and her father never remarried, for whatever reason. So, Kat
is the only bargaining chip Igor owns. Owned.
This course of action should also appease my brothers. I can tell them this was all part of my plan, that I devised it with
the intention of using her as a bargaining chip, but then she delivered herself to me. Keeping everything in mind, they should not
have too many questions when I tell them we are to be married, and when I insist on having her watched at all times. This
should also explain my distracted behavior since that night, and why she seems to affect me differently from other women, as
my brothers were quick to point out. If it seems like this has been my plan from the beginning, it should stave off further
questions. My brothers will wonder why I did not tell them, but I can find a way to work around that.
“You came to me for help and some form of safety, remember? That is precisely what I am offering. But everything has
a price. The only way for me to offer full protection is for us to be bound together in some way. I told you that Dubrovs protect
their own, and this will be no different. With us bound by marriage, you will have the full force of the Dubrov empire ensuring
your safety and the safety of our child.”
Even if this is to my advantage, and the advantage of the organization, it is still the truth. By my side is the safest place
for Kat and my unborn child to be.
Kat shakes her head furiously. “No, I will not agree to this. There must be another way!” She takes a shaky step back.
“Coming here was a mistake.”
Kat spins around, hastily making her way toward the door where she yanks on the handle. It will not do any good
though; when my brothers left, they locked the door. Kat tries the handle a few more times before realization dawns. Her
shoulders hunch forward and she turns toward me slowly, her head hung in defeat.
“You misunderstand me, princess. This is not a request or a negotiation.” I stalk towards her, only stopping when I am
close enough to reach out and touch her. My fingers flex at my side, but I don’t dare give in to the urge to skim my fingers over
her soft skin. “We will be married, you and me. You will be my wife, and I will be your husband. And you will not leave my
sight until the day my child leaves your womb. After that, you will be granted certain liberties, liberties that I deem fit.”
With each sentence I utter, Kat’s face falls a little more. By the time I’m done, tears pool in her eyes. I watch as they
roll down her cheeks, and she does her best to swallow the choked sobs building.
A twinge of guilt makes its way through my chest, but I tamper it down. I am still unsure of Kat’s motives for being
here. I am not even sure there is a baby. Although, if this is a play, Kat is one hell of an actress. Even bearing that in mind, I
will need to have it confirmed first. I need to get a physician out as soon as possible so I can plan accordingly.
A slap across my face catches me off guard.
“How dare you!” Kat starts pounding her fists on my chest, rage evident on her face. “I trusted you!”
Grabbing her wrists, I haul her up against me, ignoring the familiar feel of her body molding to mine. “That was your
first oversight,” I say with a sneer. “Make no mistake, princess, the life growing inside of you is the only reason I am not
bending you over that table and teaching you a lesson.”
Her breath comes in short bursts as she looks up at me defiantly. Even in this situation, it is hard to deny she has tons of
fight in her. No doubt the world she grew up in has shaped a fighter, and I have to give her the respect she deserves for that.
Turning Kat to the side, I give her a little shove so that she falls back into one of the chairs. She adjusts herself in the
seat, wrapping her arms around her chest.
Tipping my head back, I take a calming breath before dropping my gaze to look at her again. “You do not have to like it,
but the reality is we’re here now. If you marry me, I will see to it that you and our child are safe. You’ll want for nothing. You
will have the protection of this organization, that I can promise you.”
Kat looks at me with disgust. “But you’re Bratva. How can I trust anything you say? You have already told me I made a
mistake by trusting you the first time.”
I nod. “This is true. But I’m still a man of my word. If you come with me peacefully, I give you my word that no harm
will come to you or our child. Our child will be raised by its blood father, something only I can offer. And blood protects
blood.” Leaning down, I grab her chin roughly. “But mark my words, princess, if you betray me in any way, you will live to
regret it.”
Kat pulls her chin from my grasp and leans back as if she’s repulsed by my touch. I smile; we both know that is not true.
Straightening, I fold my arms over my chest. “Think of it this way; right now, I am the devil you know. I’m many things,
but a liar is not one of them. I’m well aware of how your father runs his operations, and I know what will happen if you go
back there.”
A slight twitch of one of Kat’s eyes is the only indication I need to know I have hit the nail on the head.
“No doubt your father already has plans to marry you off. Do you know who he has in mind?”
Kat’s eyes drop to her lap where her hands are now balled into fists. Her emotions are giving her away, and she doesn’t
even know it. Most of what I’m saying is based on hearsay, but the way she is reacting to it is all the confirmation I need that it
is all true.
“Are you willing to bet our child’s life on that? Are you prepared to condemn yourself to a life with a stranger who
will do who knows what to enforce his dominance over you? It could be years of torture and anguish before you’re carried out
in a body bag. You might want to think about that before you kick up a fuss about what I’m offering.”
 Chapter 7 - Kat
Theo, or rather Fyodor, has me cornered and he knows it. Even if I had some way to mask the emotions that are splayed
across my face, I am sure he knows enough about my father’s organization to have some inkling about how things work. After
all, he was able to figure out who I am, and I did not give him much to go on.
I want to argue this, to refuse and fight my way out of here, but we both know I am in no position to do that. The look on
Theo’s face—I don’t think I will be able to get used to calling him Fyodor—tells me he knows exactly what I am thinking. If I
try to run, I will be putting my unborn child at risk. Even though I have barely warmed up to the idea of being a mother, the
instinct to protect my own is already firmly in place.
There will be no running. But that does not mean I have to make this easy.
I push myself out of the chair, walking to the middle of the room before I turn to face Theo head-on, squaring my
shoulders. “And how long until I leave the confines of your home in a body bag? As soon as I provide you with an heir suitable
to inherit your throne?”
Theo clenches his teeth, his jaw ticking. He stalks over to me, grabbing my arm roughly. “I told you I am a man of my
word. And I gave you my word that no harm will come to you or the child as long as you remain loyal.” He starts pulling me
back to the desk, stopping when we reach the chair I was sitting in moments ago. He spins me around to face him. “But you are
testing my patience, something I have unsurprisingly little of.”
He lets go of my arm and nods to the chair. “Sit.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I pull my lip up. “Do I look like a dog you can order around?”
Theo regards me, anger bubbling just below the surface. “No, you look like the woman who is going to be my wife.
And I happen to like my women subservient.”
“How convenient for you.”
He grabs some sheets of paper and a pen from one of his drawers, slamming them down on the desk in front of me.
“You will write a letter to your father, telling him you’re going out of town for a while.”
“I will do no such thing.”
A hand wraps around my throat and the next thing I know, Theo’s face is inches from mine. “It was not a suggestion,
princess. You will do this or there will be consequences, and you will not like them.”
For a brief moment, the gold in his otherwise deep brown irises distracts me from the hand tightening around my neck.
The light flecks glisten in his eyes like ice in bourbon. How is it someone who was so in tune with my body only weeks ago,
someone whose touch was so soft that it brought me to the edge faster than I have ever experienced before, can be so cruel?
Why is it that out of all the men I could have allowed to claim me that night, it had to be the one man who is more like my father
than any other, maybe even worse?
It feels like my heart is slowly breaking, hairline cracks forming and gradually growing in size until it feels like it might
shatter into pieces. Not only for me and the situation I have found myself in but for my unborn child, who has no idea of the
monster he will soon call father.
A tear leaks out the corner of my eye, tickling as it makes its way down my cheek.
The hand around my throat loosens, and Theo’s eyes soften slightly. He brings his free hand to my face, brushing away
the moisture with the pad of his thumb. He inhales deeply as his eyes close for a second before popping open again. “Just write
the damn letter.”
“I have no idea what to say.” My voice is barely a whisper.
Theo drops his hands, shoving them in his pockets. “Figure it out.”
And so, with Theo looking over my shoulder, I write to my father. I apologize for not telling him beforehand, but I am
going to visit my cousin who has recently had a baby. I tell him I want to help her in the first weeks of motherhood because I
know how important family is and I want to be a good daughter. I assure him I will do everything in my power to represent our
family in a positive way, just like he taught me. Basically, I write everything I know will placate him, stroke his ego, and
hopefully keep him at bay for a while. I know it will not hold him off for long, though; the leash my father keeps me on is short,
and he likes knowing where I am at regular intervals.
When I am done, I hand the note to Theo, who inspects it.
He nods approvingly. “That should do.”
 “I’ll need to make an appearance at some point. My father will get suspicious if he doesn’t hear from me for too long.”
“No, you won’t,” Theo says.
“My father will come looking for me once he learns I’m not where I claim to be. We both know people talk. It’s only a
matter of time until he figures out where I am and comes for me.”
“So let him come.” Theo spreads his arms out to the sides. “If he sets foot in our territory, I am within my rights to rain
down the full force of this organization.”
Anger at his arrogance courses through me, lifting me out of the chair. “Are you mad? That would start a war!”
Theo shrugs. “Wars have been started over less. Why not an heir?” He pins me with a glare. “My heir.”
Realization strikes. It is not arrogance at all. Theo is possessive. In the span of one conversation, he has already come
to think of this child as his. It belongs to him. As do I if he is serious about us getting married. Chaos erupts in my chest as my
emotions war. On one hand, Theo claiming me as his sends a thrill through me for reasons I cannot explain. But on the other
hand, I fear what this could mean for the future. I worry that this will shackle me in many of the same ways as if my father
arranged a marriage for me. I want to believe that Theo is different and that what we shared that night was real. But from what I
have seen so far, he may very well be an evil on the same level as my father. A different evil, perhaps, but an evil nonetheless.
After Theo hands off my letter to one of his men to deliver, he ushers me into an SUV with tinted windows and informs
me we will be going to his home. The car ride is an uncomfortable one. I feel his eyes on me constantly, and he only moves
them to the window when I turn to look at him. Seconds after I look away, his gaze is locked on me again. This goes on for the
first half of the ride until I force myself not to look at him for any reason.
I do not know what I was expecting when Theo said we would be going to his home. High walls, a moat, and some
bridges guarding the entrances maybe? What I did not expect is the open piece of green land with a canopy of trees down the
driveway. The road opens up to form a wide circle around a multi-layered concrete fountain, large enough for at least a dozen
cars to park in front of the house. Although house might be the wrong word to describe the large two-story light grey building
spanning over the length of a football field. I am not even able to see how deep it goes.
Much like at the club, artistic columns hold up the wrap-around balcony of the second story, and the same artistic feel
extends to the railings that line the steps leading to the front door. The front door itself is a masterpiece of dark mahogany
accented with a long black handle. Each window is framed with the same shade of wood as the front door, tying in the modern
rustic feel.
When the car door opens, no one has to pull me out. Mesmerized by the architecture in front of me, I all but float up the
stairs. Inside, the walls are the same shade of grey as the outside, soft in comparison to the wood accents. The bottom floor is
an open plan. It boasts an impressive view of the estate out of the folding doors that span the back wall right from the entrance.
Kitchen cabinets line the walls to the left, and a large island with seating running along one side is positioned in the middle. To
the right, couches form a social area, with a pool table and stairs leading to the second floor behind them. Another relaxed
seating area with a glass fireplace is straight ahead, matching the seating on the other side of the open folding doors. The
ground floor seems smaller than it looked from the outside, but I suppose the doors on the opposite walls lead to private
offices or other closed-off rooms.
Theo allows me to take in my new home for a while, before taking me up to the second floor. He leads me to the area
above the kitchen, opening the door to reveal a bright modernly decorated room with a large poster bed in the middle. Off to
the side, a hallway of closets led to an ensuite bathroom that could put any penthouse to shame.
“Obviously, I did not have the time to stock your closets,” Theo says as he motions to the empty shelves and railings.
“We can head into town tomorrow and do some shopping.”
I stare at him in awe. “This is our room? Where are your clothes?”
Theo tips his head to the side. “My room is down the hall. This is your room.”
“We’re not sharing a room?” With how possessive he seems to be already, I thought he would want me close to him at
all times.
Theo regards me for a beat before coming toward me until my breasts brush against his chest. I take a step back, and
then another when he advances again until he backs me up against the wall. “Do you want to share a room?” His eyes drop to
my mouth. “Share a bed with me again?”
I swallow, shaking my head. “No, I do not want to share a bed with you.”
One side of his mouth tips up. “Then what appears to be the problem?”
“Nothing. Not a thing.”
 “Good. It’s late, get some rest.”
And with that he leaves, closing the door behind him.
I wander about the room, finally letting myself relax slightly after the whirlwind of a day I have had. The knee-length
dress and heels I have on are getting uncomfortable and I am on the verge of stripping down to my underwear to get into bed
when I see some folded clothes on a chair.
The track pants and shirt must be Theo’s. I end up having to knot both at the sides because of how big they are, but they
prove comfortable enough. So, I climb into bed, exhausted, and promising myself that tomorrow, I will find a way out of the
situation.
I wake up in the middle of the night, my throat dry from thirst and my stomach growling. I sneak out of my room,
checking that the coast is clear before creeping down the stairs to the kitchen. The pantry and fridge are well stocked, and I
make some cheese and crackers, washing it down with a glass of fruit juice. After, I head back upstairs, still too tired to look
for a way out in the dark.
The next morning, I am met with a full spread of breakfast food, and I gorge myself until I feel like I might burst. After
enjoying a hot shower, I find my dress from yesterday laid out on the bed, clean and pressed. I endure another uncomfortable
car ride with Theo when we head into town, where we stop at every boutique to shop for clothes until his henchmen’s arms are
loaded with bags and boxes of all sizes.
A spread of lunch food is waiting for us when we get back, and unlike this morning, Theo actually joins me at the table.
We eat in silence, neither of us saying anything until Theo gets up to leave and tells me a seamstress will be by in a few hours
to take my measurements.
That night, nightmares of my father finding me and punishing me by taking away my child wake me. Like the previous
night, I head downstairs and snack on crackers and cheese, as well as some cold meat left over from lunch. Slightly braver than
last night, I explore the ground floor. One of the room’s doors stands open and when I peek inside, I find a small library. Old
classics line the shelves and I run my fingers over the worn spines, landing on The Great Gatsby. It was always a favorite of
mine. Figuring it will not be missed, I take it with me when I head back upstairs and read a while before drifting off to sleep
again.
I wake up to bustling outside my door and sunlight streaming in through the curtains. A knock at my door precedes three
unknown women bursting into the room. I am fully prepared to throw down with them when they tell me they are here to get me
ready for my wedding. It seems Theo was indeed serious about that part, and the goons standing guard at the door tell me I do
not have much say in the matter.
So, I allow myself to be pampered, shocked when the seamstress from yesterday shows up with a stunning white
jeweled gown beyond anything I have ever seen. I might not have been allowed to give input of my own, but Theo seems to
have enough style to have chosen something I actually like.
Hours later, in the dark of night, I walk down the aisle of a small church where the only familiar face is the man
standing next to me who is pronounced my husband after the vows are said. We share a brief kiss, just enough to seal the deal,
and the room full of strangers cheer and congratulate my new spouse.
Instead of heading back to the house afterward, we drive to a fancy hotel where Theo collects the keycard for the
penthouse suite.
He holds the door open for me so I can enter first, and then closes it behind us before walking over to the bar area.
After pouring a drink, he loosens his tie with his free hand and slings it over the back of the chair.
I stand in the middle of the room, shifting my weight between my feet and wringing my hands. I am not sure what
happens next. Sure, I know what would happen under normal circumstances, but there is nothing normal about the situation I
find myself in. I remind myself that Theo has already had his way with me once, and I will be damned if I let that happen again.
He might be the head of a powerful mafia, but he will learn I am not here to bend to his every whim.
His jacket removed, Theo regards me from where he leans against the counter, rolling up his sleeves to expose the ink
wrapped around his forearms. When he is done, he folds his arms over his chest and tips his head to the side. His eyes run
down the length of my body and back up again. “Come here.”
My lip curls and I take a step back, crossing my arms to match his pose. “I told you before, I am not one of your pets
you can order around.”
“Do not make me repeat myself,” Theo warns, his gaze turning stormy.
For a beat, I consider fighting again. Until another thought pops up. I have had very little control over all of our
exchanges until now, but perhaps this is my chance to flip the script. I can tell Theo wants me; the heat in his gaze is all the
evidence I need. Maybe I can use that to my advantage.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a beat. When I open them, I give Theo the sultriest look I can manage. I make
a show of slowly removing each of the pins in my hair until it falls in loose waves over my bare shoulders. Not breaking eye
contact, I bend down, loosening the straps of the white heels on my feet and placing them together against the wall. To Theo’s
credit, he remains mostly still, only shifting to uncross his arms and grip the ends of the counter next to him. The whitening of
his knuckles tells me my actions are having the desired effect.
Good.
Doing my best sultry impression, I sway my hips as I walk over to him, running my fingers over my bare skin as I brush
my hair over my shoulder. I stop when our bodies are only inches apart and peek up at him from under my lashes. When I run
my tongue over my lower lip, he follows the movement.
Feeling smug, I turn my back towards him, pulling my hair away from the zipper at my back and looking at him over my
shoulder. “Would you unzip me?”
Fingers brush my back at the top of my dress, and I feel the zipper slowly roll down to the base of my spine. His hands
move to my hips and he pulls me back against him. When his lips touch my shoulder, I step forward out of his grasp and spin
around, running my hand over his bicep and down his forearm. “Thank you. I’m going to bed. See you in the morning.”
Before I can blink, Theo has a hand wrapped around my upper arm. “What makes you think you are going anywhere
without me, wife?”
I pull my arm free and push on his chest with both hands. “What makes you think I want your hands on me, husband?”
Theo grinds his teeth, his jaw ticking. His gaze sweeps over my body again, and to my dismay, my heart rate kicks up.
He steps forward and I get ready to remove his hands if he touches me again. But he doesn’t. He dips his head, his nose running
up the side of my neck the same way it did the night we met. He brushes his knuckles gently down my arm, and despite my best
efforts, goosebumps break out under his touch and a shiver works its way up my spine.
Theo chuckles. “Your body betrays you, princess.”
I push on his chest again, harder this time. “That does not mean I want your hands on me.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Give it time. Soon my hands will be the only thing you will be able to think about.
But I won’t put them on you again until you are begging for it.”
With that he stalks off, leaving me alone in the middle of the honeymoon suite with mixed emotions I have no idea how
to handle.

***
In the following weeks I try to get comfortable in the house I now have to call home. While I have a team of staff to see
to my every need and it seems I will never want for anything, it also means I have no privacy. Every time I turn around,
someone is there. It feels very similar to being back in my father’s house. The only difference is that instead of sharing the
space with my father, I now share it with Theo.
To my surprise, he remains true to his word, not laying a hand on me. I still spend my nights alone in my own room—
which I get to decorate however I want. During the day and early evenings, despite the large house, Theo and I still manage to
be in each other’s space at regular intervals. I would be reading on the couch and look up to find him watching me when I
didn’t even realize he was close by. Or when I rummage through the pantry for snacks, I’ll come out only to walk straight into
his chest, almost like he had been waiting for me. On days when I spend time in the large pool outside, he makes little effort to
disguise the fact that he watches me from the balcony. With each day that passes, and the longer I hold his attention, my
emotions war in my chest.
Theo is always so close, close enough that I could easily break the silence between us. I could just walk over to him
and ask him how his day has been, and how business is going. Some days he looks tired, like he carries the weight of the world
on his shoulders. Surprisingly, those days are the hardest for me. I find myself wondering how he is coping, and if there is
anything I can do to make it better. For some reason I cannot explain, I want him to feel like he can share things with me, things
I likely do not know about him. I am sure he knows everything there is to know about me, other than my feelings, of course.
Despite how my feelings have started to change and morph into something I would rather not try to identify, I don’t breathe a
word about it to Theo.
Like I was with my father, I refuse to show any form of weakness. I cannot afford for Theo to gain the upper hand. As
much as I want him to feel like he can share things with me, I also do not want to feel anything deeper. I refuse to be the one
who falls alone. As much as I want to believe that Theo might feel something for me, that his actions prove this partnership
might be something more than just a business transaction, I can’t allow myself to fall into that trap. Wanting something to be true
does not make it so. If I am being honest with myself and take note of how everything came to pass, there was no love involved
in any of his decisions. Theo did not marry me because he felt something for me. He married me so he could have something
that belongs to his enemy, and so he could continue his legacy. He did not even try to hide it; he told me as much. If this were a
real marriage, he would treat me as an equal, wouldn’t he? I might not be making much of an effort to convince him to open up
to me, but he also has not made any effort from his side. He could easily approach me one of the many times he has his attention
on me, when he makes me aware of his presence. Instead, he chooses not to.
If his actions prove anything, it is that he does not see me as an equal. I am simply someone who shares his space—a
space I still do not want to be in. It is very clear that there is no love lost between us. The only evidence of us being man and
wife is the piece of paper we both signed the night of our wedding. And I am not sure if that will ever change.
 Chapter 8 - Fyodor
I reread the page in front of me for the fifth time, still not taking any of it in. Running a hand through my already
disheveled hair, I push up from the desk and pace over to the door. I berate myself once again before I peer through the
entryway of my office. If I stand in just the right place, I have a clear line of sight into the large open-plan kitchen. The kitchen
where Kat is currently making pancakes. Why she insists on doing that when we have a chef, only she would know.
I watch as she moves gracefully around the space, humming to herself. She does that sometimes when she thinks no one
is looking. In the last few weeks, I have had enough time to pick up on her habits. To notice how she twirls the dark strands of
her hair when she reads or bites her lip when she concentrates. To memorize the curve of her neck and the dip of her spine. Kat
is a deep sleeper, meaning I have had the pleasure of observing her uninterrupted as she sleeps. She always looks so peaceful,
the corners of her mouth pulled up in contentment. It’s a smile that’s a little different from the happy one she wears whenever
she is opening cupboards and pulling out ingredients for whatever concoction she decides to whip up. Sometimes she looks
uncomfortable and tense, but I have come to realize that seems to be when the morning sickness hits.
No look, however, comes close to the disgruntled one she bears when she sees me. No matter what she is busy with or
how happy she seems to be, the second she lays eyes on me, her brows draw together and her lips press into a firm line. She
juts her chin out and makes it painfully obvious that she is doing her best to ignore me.
It is as cute as it is infuriating. This woman has everything she could want in the home I all but gifted her, and she still
seems to find a reason to despise me. Or at least that is what it looks to be.
When Kat gives a little spin in front of the counter, a smile touches my lips, and immediately my brow furrows. I should
not be allowing myself to admire her. The idea of her feeling more at home in my house should not be something I permit
myself to entertain. The situation I find myself in still feels a little off, as though someone else is pulling the strings, even if I
was the one to put the whole thing into motion. Kat is easy on the eyes and bright, a seemingly deadly combination of brains
and sultry beauty. I find it hard to believe she was incapable of figuring out who I was until I spelled it out for her.
Then there is the fact that she gave me all that information about her father. Sure, it was not a lot of detailed
information, but she still gave me enough to figure out who she was. In fact, I am surprised it took me as long as it did, given
that Paval seemed to know who she was. He did not mention it straight away, but Kiril later told me that Paval told him he
recognized her almost immediately. Why I had to hear it from Kiril is anyone’s guess, but that appears to be what our
relationship has boiled down to. Kiril and I have always been closer, and recently my and Paval’s relationship seems to be
more strained than usual. Marrying Kat and bringing her here did not help matters.
My cell rings, pulling me out of my thoughts, and I move deeper into the office, pushing the door closed so I have some
privacy. Kiril’s name flashes on the screen.
“Kiril,” I answer curtly.
“Fyodor, we have a problem.”
There is an urgency in my brother’s tone, probably the reason his greeting is so abrupt.
“What is it?”
“I just found out the shipment from this morning was ambushed.”
I look at my watch. It’s just after 10 a.m. which means the shipment should have arrived and been unloaded eight hours
ago. “What do you mean you just found out? Why only now?”
“It was a routine shipment. Only a handful of men knew about it, myself and Paval included. It was one of the smaller
ones, the ones we let the men handle, and they made all their check-ins. When they were half an hour late to the rendezvous
point, the men went looking for them. They found the security detail’s van at the bottom of the lake, each of them with a bullet in
the head. The truck drivers were close by, and their throats were slit. They found the truck unit and trailer further down the
road, hidden amongst the trees, but the shipment is gone.”
I resist the urge to pound my fist into the nearest wall and run my hand through my hair, pulling on the short strands until
I feel the stinging on my scalp. “What did we lose?”
“A couple of SUVs, and three muscle cars.” There’s a short pause before I hear a sharp intake of air. “One of them was
Gustav’s.”
“Fuck!” This time I can’t stop myself from sweeping half the contents off my desk onto the floor with my free arm.
Bogdan Gustav is one of our regular clients. We have sourced many cars for his collection over the years, and we have a
decent working relationship. But Bogdan is not someone who handles being let down well. I would rather not find out how he
would react if that were to happen.
 “How close are we to finding the fuckers who did this?” I demand.
“We’re checking all the cameras in the area. We think they drove the cars, instead of taking the trailer or swapping it
out, so they would be more inconspicuous, but we can’t find anything on the surveillance footage. It looks like someone erased
it.”
My body goes rigid. “Erased? How did they manage that? I thought we had everyone on the payroll?”
“We did. We do.” I hear some shuffling on the other side of the line before a door clicks shut and it gets quieter.
“Fyodor, you know we’ve been having hiccups the last few weeks. Small pieces of information that someone gets wrong or one
car in the order not being where it’s supposed to be. But we haven’t had anything go quite so spectacularly wrong before. Ever
since—”
“Bring me the men responsible for the mistake,” I snap, cutting him off.
“They are all dead, Fyodor.”
Frustration courses through me. “How soon until we can make up the shipment?”
“I already have the men looking to replace all the cars. It shouldn’t take more than a day or two, three max, to get back
on track.”
I lean against the side of my desk, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Hopefully soon enough to appease the clients.”
“Yeah …” Kiril trails off. He clears his throat. “Look, I hate to agree with Paval—”
“So don’t.”
“—but maybe he has a point. This all started happening when Kat showed up.” He takes a breath. “How sure are you
about her reasons for finding you?”
“You mean how sure am I that the child she’s carrying is actually mine? Pretty sure given all the medical results came
back clear as day.”
“That is not what I meant, and you know it. How sure are you that she truly doesn’t want to be there? That her kicking
up a fuss is genuine? Just, think about it, okay?”
Before I have the chance to argue, the line goes dead.
This is not the first time my siblings have voiced their concerns about Kat. Our vows were not even cold before Paval
pulled me to one side, berating me for playing right into the hands of our enemy. As much as I played it off as part of a grander
scheme, Paval was not convinced. Yes, it meant I could keep Kat for myself, but they did not need to know that. I had laid
down a plan of how we could use Kat to weaken Igor’s already crumbling business and explained how this could be one hell
of a long game. It also seems wise to keep the offspring of our rival under close watch, keeping your enemies closer and all
that.
But what if I was not the only one to have that thought? It does not seem like a far stretch that Igor would send his
daughter into the arms of a rival organization to infiltrate it. The thought has crossed my mind. Not for the first time, I wonder if
I made a mistake. Did I allow my craving for Kat to cloud my judgment? I like to think I took control of the situation, and that
my decisions were not influenced by the dark-haired temptress inhabiting my stronghold. But given the recent developments, I
can’t be sure that is true.
As much as it pains me to admit it, there might be a kernel of truth in my brothers’ accusations. With how Kat affects
me, would it be a stretch to think I was playing right into Igor’s hands?
My ego takes a nosedive and anger starts to rise, not only at the idea that I might have not seen what was right in front of
me but also at the thought that Kat might not carry any sort of affection for me at all.
The storm brewing under the surface spills over when her laugh carries through the closed door.
Before I know it, I’m barging into the kitchen where Kat is talking to one of the staff.
I must make one hell of a noise because when I stop in front of Kat, shock is written all over her face. I grab both of her
wrists and haul her roughly against me. “What are you playing at?” I shout.
Her shock quickly turns to anger and she tries to pry herself free. “Are you mad?” She tries to take a step back, but I
pull her against me again. “What is wrong with you?” she shouts.
Her body rubs against mine as she struggles to loosen the grip I have on her, and the scent of her shampoo or body
wash, whatever it is, engulfs me. Everything below my belt stands at attention. Angry sex has always been my favorite.
My frustration kicks up a notch. I pull her up, so we’re nose to nose. “Why are you here?”
 Her brow furrows in confusion and her eyes dart around the room. “Why am I in the kitchen? I’m making pancakes, you
lunatic! What are you doing here?”
“I didn’t mean here, in the kitchen,” I growl.
Her mouth drops open and her brow furrows even more. She takes a few breaths, still seeming confused.
I do not blame her. I’m feeling quite confused myself. My brothers have succeeded in jumbling my thoughts, planting
unwanted seeds of doubt. I still can’t clarify if they are warranted or not. And the way my body is reacting to being so close to
Kat after weeks of doing my best to avoid her is rather inconvenient. This is precisely why I kept my distance. I was not sure if
I would be able to control myself around her. The very word has become elusive where this woman is concerned.
A growl works its way up my throat again and I release her, grabbing the back of my neck with both hands and taking a
few steps back. Kat holds her hands to her chest, massaging the skin where I gripped her. Trepidation and something else I
can’t name is in her expression.
She takes a shaky step back when I advance on her again. “Why did you come to me?” I ask. “Was this your plan all
along? Did you sit with your father and hatch the idea to trap me with this pregnancy so I would be too busy with thoughts of a
child, and you could gather the information he needs to overthrow us?” I do not mean for everything to come rushing out the
way it does, but I can’t stop it. “Are you waiting until I grow attached to my unborn child so you can take that away from me
too?” The words tumble out, and the doubts I’ve been having mix with the fear of what it could mean if it is indeed true.
The more I speak, the harder Kat’s expression grows. By the time I’m done, I’m breathing hard, and Kat’s face is
twisted into a scowl.
In the blink of an eye, she rushes forward, pushing up on her toes so she can bring her face level with mine.
“You all but ignore me for weeks, and this is how you decide to break the silence? By accusing me of trapping you?”
Kat jabs at my chest with a firm finger. “Might I remind you that you were the one who kidnapped me and forced me into a
marriage I never wanted to begin with? You brought me to this house full of strangers where I’m more like a prisoner than
anything else. So please, tell me how this benefits me?”
“Maybe this was your plan all along,” I counter. “To play the victim until you could gather enough information on us to
take back to your father and buy your freedom.”
“And what information would that be? It’s quite a challenge to gather information that’s never shared. And pray tell,
how would I get this information to my father when I’m watched like a hawk?” She flails her hands out to the sides. “When
every time I turn around either you or one of your little minions is watching my every move. As much as it pains me to admit it,
I think you might be giving me too much credit.”
“And what about the baby?” I grind out.
Her head snaps back. “What about the baby?”
“Was that also part of the plan?”
Kat is still for a beat before she lets out a bitter chuckle. “Do you honestly think I would plan to bind myself to a
sadistic monster like you? That I would voluntarily give up any likelihood of a life I could call my own just so I could
intertwine my fate with yours with a child?”
“You came to me for a way out. But you must have known I would never let you leave with my child. My blood.”
“I was worried you were going to tell me to get rid of the baby! The highest hope I had was that you would help me
disappear if it meant you weren’t expected to be a part of the child’s life.” Kat wraps her arms around her slowly growing
bump protectively. “How was I supposed to know who you were? You made sure not to share that information with me.”
“Surely you had to have some idea. Have you been living under a rock all your life?”
“A prison, actually, not unlike the one you have placed me in if I’m being honest,” she says with a sneer.
Her blatant answer catches me off guard. I’m struggling to find a balance between providing a comfortable sanctuary
for my child and the woman carrying it, and keeping my guard up in case this is a ploy to overthrow us.
It is the very reason I should handle this like I would any other business deal, and not allow my feelings to interfere.
Married or not, Kat and I are together for the benefit of the organization. There is no other reason. Even if I did love her—
which I obviously do not—it would be irrelevant. Even if every time I see hurt, fear, or distrust in her eyes, it chips away a
little bit more of my already crumbling resolve. I can’t deviate from the original plan, which is to use this to our advantage. I
can’t comfort her for any reason. Even if that is exactly what I want to do. Even if through all the doubt and second-guessing
her motives, it guts me whenever something I’ve done or said seems to hurt her.
 And so, I walk away. Without a word, I turn and leave her standing in the kitchen, still wearing the bewilderment of our
interaction.
 Chapter 9 - Kat
After the brief explosion between the two of us yesterday, Theo has gone back to ignoring me. I’m not sure if I should
be happy about the development or not. The seemingly constant flipping of his emotions, if one would call it that, has me
reeling.
So, I try to continue the same routine I have since the day I got here, reading, making food—even though our chef Anya
berates me every time—and having a daily dip in the pool.
There is one thing I still have not done, though. Something I have not allowed myself to think about for fear that it might
make everything feel too real.
But I think it is about time that I start preparing for the baby. I need to find a space that could house the being that will
soon be entering this world. I could easily put the cot in my room, as there is more than enough space. That is likely what will
happen at first, but after a while, I would like to have a space that could grant me some distance from the reality of my life.
I have had a look at a few of the rooms on the second floor, most of them guest rooms or large sitting rooms, but all of
them are still too close to Theo’s room. Not liking the idea of having a retreat only feet away from my captor, I head
downstairs.
There is still one room I have not explored, one on the far-left side of the main floor. Most days the door is closed, so I
have not thought much about what it could contain. But today, the door is slightly ajar. Curiosity gets the best of me, and after
checking that the coast is clear, I quietly slip inside.
At first, I can’t quite put together what I am seeing. Artful shelves line the wall on one side of the room, and a large
dark wood desk at the opposite side. A checkered rug covers most of the floor, and some artwork hangs strategically on the
otherwise bare walls. It looks very much like an office. But that does not make any sense. Theo’s office is on the other side of
the floor. I have seen him invite men and some of his minions into it many times over the last few weeks. It also happens to be
the room he came storming out of two days ago when he accused me of trying to overthrow him.
My heart rate kicks up at the memory. I remember the shock I felt that was shortly followed by anger. After being
treated as nothing more than a commodity since that day I walked into Theo’s club looking for a way out, I did not appreciate
suddenly being treated like a spy.
He looked genuinely upset that it could be the case. Dare I say, hurt, even? That in itself makes no sense. Theo has
made it very clear that this whole thing is nothing more than a business arrangement, a way for him to gain some form of power
over his rivals. So why did he seem distraught when faced with the idea that that is exactly what it is?
Shaking off the memory, I turn my attention to the sterile files that occupy most of the shelf space. Numbers run down
each spine, with some symbols in between. At first, I think they might be a filing system, but after some calculations, I come to
realize they appear to be dates. A form of a system, I suppose. The first file on each shelf also has names on them. I start at the
top, and a little way down I pick up the pattern. These are rival mafias. I’ve heard my father mention some of these names.
Some of the shelves are lined with files, others house only a few. My hand stops on the shelf just above the halfway
mark.
Patrov.
In an almost out-of-body experience, I pull down the first file and flip it open. I flick through the pages, most of them
full of information I do not have the time to explore until the writing morphs into photos. Some of them are of people, some of
locations. There are even a few of our house. Well, my father’s house, anyway.
I grab the next file, quickly working through the pages. Much like the first one, there is information and photos of some
faces I recognize as my father’s men and some locations with names I have heard my father mention before. I start grabbing
files at random, not caring much about the mess I’m sure I am making. Each one builds on the story now forming in my mind,
like puzzle pieces slowly slipping into place.
From what I have seen, most of the failed operations my father has experienced in the past—the ones I know about
anyway—can be traced back to these files. Every time my father lost shipments, business deals, or men, it would seem the
Dubrovs were responsible. I do not think my father even realizes how much they are responsible for. Sure, there are always
casualties when one is part of an organization like the Bratva, but some of those were good men. And it seems Theo is
responsible. I am surprised that there is not much information about me. It seems my father did a good job of keeping me a
mystery. That could mean that Theo truly did not know who I was until I told him. Or it could be that he knows everything about
me, and it is just not in these files.
My legs feel numb as I take a step back, my eyes roaming over the multiple shelves with my father’s name. It is clear
that Theo has devoted the most time and energy to finding out about my father and sabotaging his operations. In the corner of
one of the lower shelves, some color catches my eye. Unlike the pale grey files, a stack of red ones makes up a third of one of
my father’s shelves.
I grab the first one, flipping slower through these pages. There must be a reason they are so different from the others. I
am not prepared for what I find. Lining these pages are plans detailing steps for framing my father for various heinous crimes
ranging from small seemingly insignificant actions to monumental events. Some have already been carried out I am sure,
judging by the familiar failed operations my father has tried to perform in the past. But some do not appear to have been set in
motion yet - or maybe they have, who knows? My stomach churns at the graphic explanations, many of them involving crime
bosses who would have my father’s head if any of it came to pass. They would dance on his grave without asking questions,
and even if they were to learn the truth afterward, they would not care.
And Theo is the mastermind behind all of it. I do not want to believe that he could be capable of any of this, but the
evidence is right in front of me.
The hatred he must hold towards my father for him to action any of this … It’s almost more than I can bear to imagine.
Briefly, I consider putting everything back the way I found it. Surely, I could do that, leave everything just so, and no
one would be any wiser. I could simply leave this room, go back upstairs, and never speak of it again. Given what I have
found, I am not sure what to expect if Theo finds out I was here, and that I gained access to information that I was not supposed
to be privy to. Who knows how he will react? It would give traction to the narrative he has about me being here to betray him,
however untrue it may be.
But he has betrayed me.
The thought cuts me deeper than I expect it to. I have already grown accustomed to the idea that this marriage is not
real, simply a worldly name for something we have no desire to explain to anyone who does not understand how these things
work.
But what I held in my hands only moments ago feeds the idea that Theo is indeed the monster I believed him to be, and
once again, I have been nothing more than a pawn. I’ve been held hostage in the worst way; without me even fully realizing
what was happening.
My mind made up, I carefully place everything back in its place. I smooth out the wrinkles in the carpet and slip out of
the room. Then I head over to the seating area close to the front door and make myself comfortable.
I am not sure how long I sit there, waiting, but I know it is enough time for the afternoon light to fade away, and for
every negative thought and feeling to stew. By the time I hear the front door open, and Theo comes into view, I am about ready
to burst.
At first, he does not seem to notice me, too caught up in whatever he is looking at on the screen of his cell phone. He
stills when he looks up and sees me, and his eyes scan the room as if he expects someone to jump out and ambush him.
Interesting, considering he is the one who has been scheming all along.
“What are you doing sitting in the dark?” he asks as he flips on the light.
I had not even realized how dark it had gotten. “I was looking for a room to use as a nursery.” Obviously, that does not
answer his question, and the look he gives me confirms it.
“And did you find anything?”
“I did, actually. I found some very interesting reading material.” I lift my arm and point to the door on the other side of
the room. “In there.”
Theo stills when he realizes where I am pointing. “Is that so?” he asks cautiously.
“Yes.” I stand, propping my hands on my hips. “When were you planning on telling me what kind of monster you really
are? About your plans to make my father enemy number one?”
“Your father does not need any help in that department. He’s quite capable of making enemies all on his own. I was
simply speeding up the process.”
The careless way he says it grates on me. “How could you do that? Condemn him to death?”
“I can guarantee you, he has done much worse, princess. Why does it bother you so much that he would get what he
deserves?”
“He’s still my father!”
Theo barks out a laugh. “Still your father? We’re talking about the same man you ran away from, correct? The one you
came to me for help getting away from? That father?”
“I don’t have to appreciate the way he handles things or harbor any love for him to want him to be safe. Regardless of
what he’s done to me in the past, I do not want to be part of the reason he draws his last breath.”
Theo regards me quietly. “Did you warn him?” he finally bites out.
The thought crossed my mind. Seeing what Theo has managed to accomplish so far brought up a fear of what he might
be capable of now that he has me. I had thought about warning my father. About giving him just enough details to keep him out
of harm’s way. But even if I wanted to, I would not be able to. I do not have any way of contacting him. There is no technology
at my disposal that would allow me to get a message to him.
But Theo does not need to know that.
I give my head a small shake. “No.”
He seems pleased by my answer, nodding slowly. “I see.”
“Was I part of your plan to kill him?” I ask, not really wanting to know the answer.
“Everything would be a lot easier if he was out of the picture. Someone else could take his place, and the Patrovs
would no longer be a threat.”
That does not answer my question, so I try a different approach.
“Was that what you were trying to accomplish by marrying me? To remove the threat of my bloodline?”
He seems more agitated now, like my questions are grating on him. “That was the plan, yes.”
“Was? And now?”
“And now—” Theo cuts himself off, his eyes widening slightly as if he was about to say something he should not. He
blows out a breath, running a hand through his hair and cursing under his breath. His hands dive into his pockets as he turns his
back towards me, his breathing labored.
“And now, what?” I press.
Theo is holding back, I can feel it. Sure, he has kept me in the dark about everything else up until now, but this feels
different. This feels a lot like what I see when I find him watching me. There are moments when I think I see him dropping his
guard, and I see glimpses of the man I shared the night with all those weeks ago. Even with these recent developments,
underneath my anger, there is a pull I can’t explain. I feel it whenever he is around, like a crackling energy between us.
Before I can stop myself, I step forward, laying my hand on his heaving back.
“Theo?”
Theo snatches my hand from his back, spinning me around and walking me backward until I am pressed against the
wall. His other hand comes to rest in the space next to my cheek. He leans down, bringing his face in line with mine as his gaze
flits between my eyes and my mouth and back again. His thumb smooths over my palm, sending shivers up my arm.
In that moment, I forget everything. I forget what I found, the evidence of a feud that could lay my heritage to waste. The
bitter feelings of being forced into a marriage I never wanted fade away. For a minute, I feel as though this is what it is meant
to be like. I do not know if it is the weeks of feeling alone in a strange home or the fact that my pregnancy hormones are all
over the place, but a warmth spreads through me. The intimacy I feel is reflected in Theo’s eyes, and hope rises in my chest.
Maybe, just maybe, there is a way to salvage all of this. For me to find some form of happiness.
Theo is close enough that our breaths mingle, and for a brief moment, I think he might kiss me. Strangely, I would not be
opposed. Slowly, I lift my free hand. The stubble on Theo’s cheek feels heavenly under my fingers, and his eyes fall closed.
There is a sharp intake of air as Theo drops my hand, pushing up from the wall. He clears his throat. “Your father will
not be harmed.”
Just like that, the moment I thought we shared is over. The anger comes right back.
Obviously, I was the only one who felt anything. I cross my arms over my chest to stop myself from doing something
stupid. Like putting my hands on him again. “What? Just like that?”
Theo sighs. “That’s what you wanted, is it not?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then you have my word.”
My head reels back. “Your word? What makes you think that means anything to me?”
 “It should; it’s not something I give freely.”
“You lied to me the first night I met you when you told me your name was Theo,” I scoff. “Then you lied to me again
when you forced me into this marriage, pretending that it was for my benefit. But none of that was true.”
“I never lied about my name. When I was younger, I went by Theo. And this marriage might be to my benefit, but it’s
also for your benefit. I never lied about that. I gave you my word that you and this child would be safe if you married me, and
you are. I also gave you my word that I would not touch you again until you asked me to. And for the most part, I have done
that. So, tell me, how have I not kept my word?”
He pauses as he looks at me, waiting for what he said to sink in.
Pieces of a new puzzle start to fall into place, and a new picture begins to form. One where all of Theo’s erratic
behavior makes more sense. The way he watches me, but still seems to ignore me. The way he bypasses a room when I am in
there. The way he has been giving me space. I have not been as alone as I thought. Because he is always there, even if not in my
immediate vicinity.
So far, I am also safe. Myself and my child. And for the most part, I want for nothing. Everything I could want, other
than my freedom, of course, has been provided.
Looking up, I find Theo waiting patiently. He looks sincere, but even I know looks can be deceiving.
He could easily advance on me now. He could punish me for how I have acted tonight, and prove to me how right every
thought I had while I paged through those files was. I know my father would have.
But Theo doesn’t.
Instead, his eyes soften, and he nods once. “Get some rest.”
And then he walks off, leaving me bewildered for the second time in as many days.
 Chapter 10 - Fyodor
Sweat pours down my back and my muscles burn, every contraction getting harder to maintain. When my arms start to
shake violently on my umpteenth bicep curl, I drop the dumbbells and sink into the chair, chugging back most of what is left in
my water bottle. Today I am pushing myself further than I normally would, punishing myself as I try to escape the thoughts
running through my mind. Thoughts of a dark siren that I most certainly should not be entertaining. Last night was a close call. I
came very close to breaking my word about not touching her. I have come to realize that my restraint is wearing thin, teetering
on the edge of breaking.
No matter how this arrangement started, and no matter how much I tell myself it is just that, an arrangement, I have
started to experience some different feelings. Feelings that I have no business appreciating. But after last night, I am not sure if
anything could materialize between us.
Kat was never meant to enter that room. She may hold some hatred for her father but based on how she reacted to the
information she found, she might now see him as the lesser of two evils. Granted, what she found is not by any means untrue,
but that was before her. Before I had something to lose. Two somethings, actually.
Now, I can’t afford for her to go back to her father for any reason. I can’t have her thinking he would be the better
option. I know that is not true, regardless of whatever thoughts she might have on the matter. I was not lying when I said I
would not harm her father. As much as I know I might suffer some backlash from my brothers on the matter, I am prepared to
face it if that is what it takes for her to trust me.
I need Kat to trust me and fully rely on me if I have any hopes of salvaging plans to overthrow her father. I gave my
word that he would not be harmed, but that does not mean his organization will not suffer. I know if given the choice, Igor will
choose to save his own skin over that of his daughter and grandchild. I plan to use that bit of information to my benefit at some
point.
Deciding that I have tortured myself enough, I grab my towel and head to the pool to cool off. Most days I would do a
few laps, but what I need now is to simply enjoy the water as it seeps into my stiff muscles. I swim over to the side darkened
by the shade from the surrounding trees, tucking myself into the corner, everything but my head submerged under the surface.
A few minutes of silence pass, and then I hear footsteps. Shortly after, Kat comes into view.
Her dark hair is pulled up in a topknot, and her pale skin is wrapped scantily in a navy blue bikini, the material only
enough to cover most of the important parts. A few things hit me at once. Firstly, this is the first time I am seeing this bikini, so
either it is new, or Kat has just not worn it before. Either way, I think I might have to burn it after today due to the feelings it has
started stirring up. Second, the signs of Kat’s pregnancy have started showing in her breasts, and the material currently
covering them seems to be having a hard time holding on. I am not opposed to the change. And lastly, based on the way my
body is currently reacting, it might be even harder to keep my word about not touching her. I need to change up my tactics if I
want Kat to give me that permission.
I am not hidden by any means, but Kat seems too caught up in her thoughts to notice me. She drops her towel and
sunglasses on a nearby lounger, stretching her arms over her head. The movement causes the material to inch up the undersides
of her breasts, and my fingers itch with the need to reach out and pull it back into place. She still does not see me as she sinks
into the water, sighing contently as she wades out towards the center of the pool with her eyes shut. When she is only a few feet
away she stops, bobbing slightly as she stretches her arms out to the side.
The pull I always feel starts up again, and soon I find myself floating closer until I am close enough that I could reach
out and touch her. “Are you having fun?”
Kat gasps as she spins around, and her hand jerks up to cover her chest, sending water droplets flying. “Are you spying
on me?” she asks once she recovers.
I chuckle. “Doubtful, as I was here first.”
She gives me a side glance before rolling her eyes. “Of course, there’s never any privacy, is there?”
There is a bitterness in her tone that I do not like. “There is if you want it.”
“Don’t patronize me,” she snaps. “You forget I am well aware of how things work.”
I drift closer. “How what things work?”
“This world.” Kat waves a hand. “The Bratva. What I want is insignificant, just like me.”
She flinches at the last part, and it hits me. If she continues to feel this way, she will never trust me. She will never let
her guard down, and I need her to.
 “What’s your favorite meal?”
My question seems to catch her off guard, her nose scrunching in confusion. “What?”
I swim in a small circle around her. “If you could have any meal now, what would it be?”
She tracks my movements, her eyes drifting to my bare chest. “Uh, I don’t know. I guess if I had to choose, it would be a
nice piece of steak. I haven’t had that in a while.”
“Excellent. If you would care to join me, I will have Anya prepare something, with some sparkling juice perhaps as
alcohol is currently off the table. Say 4 p.m. in the conservatory?”
She regards me for a beat before raising a challenging brow. “And if I want to eat alone?”
I see this for what it is, a test. After what she just said, she wants to see if I will give her a choice. As much as I do not
want to, I know I have to for this to work.
“Then I would be disappointed that I don’t get to share your company, but I would let you have the space for the night.”
Kat stares at me, and I see the wheels in her head turning as she debates her options. Finally, she sighs and nods. “Then
I will see you at four.”
“Perfect.” I move to stand in front of her, and to her credit, she does not budge an inch. “See you at four.”
Then without touching her, as much as I itch to feel some part of her in my hands, I head up to my room to take a much-
needed cold shower.
Just before four, Kat walks into the conservatory in a low-cut red dress that hugs every one of her curves and causes my
mouth to turn dry. Her hair is styled in loose waves that hang down over her shoulders and just touch the swell of her now more
than ample cleavage. Her lips are a similar shade of red to the night we met, and her feet are wrapped in similar-style heels.
When her eyes land on me, she gives me an appraising once over.
I pull her chair back. “After you.”
She smiles softly, walking over and letting me push the chair in before she sits. “How chivalrous.”
I drop my nose to her neck, as close as I can get without touching her, and inhale deeply. “You smell nice.” I pull back
in time to see a blush work its way over her cheeks.
Taking my seat across from her, I raise my glass. “To good company.”
Kat eyes me over the rim of her glass as she takes a sip. I arranged for rosé flavored lemonade because I figured it
would be the closest to wine. She seems to like it.
Kat doesn’t say a word as she cuts into her steak, savoring each bite as she chews.
“You’re quiet,” I observe.
“Is that a problem?”
“I was hoping to learn more about you.”
Kat shrugs a shoulder. “You appear to know enough already. Besides, I’m sure we grew up very much the same.”
I lift a brow. “You also stashed guns with your father when you were twelve under the guise of father-son bonding
time?”
That gets a laugh out of her. “No, I can’t say I did.”
“Hmmm, too bad. You seem like you might be good at it.”
“Stashing guns?” she asks.
My eyes drop to her hands. “Handling heavy weaponry.”
Kat goes still, her mouth parting slightly, seemingly shocked into silence. A flush works its way over her face and down
her neck, her chest heaving as her breathing speeds up. I track the movement, and she shifts under my gaze.
She clears her throat. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you did the night we met. Like you want me.”
“Because I do,” I state.
She seems unsure of my answer, so I figure I might as well lay all my cards on the table. “There’s not a day that goes by
that I don’t want you. Not once have you walked by me in whatever scrap of clothing you decided to wear that day that I don’t
think of bending you over the closest surface and making you scream my name like you did that night.”
Kat’s eyes widen and she swallows thickly. “So, why don’t you?”
“Because I gave you, my word.”
“Yeah, but for something like that—”
“I want you to feel like you can trust me. And if I have to contain myself for that to happen,” I pause as I shrug, “then so
be it.”
“Because you said you wouldn’t touch me until I asked you to?”
“Yes.”
Kat gives me a contemplative look. “I see.”
Holding eye contact, she slowly rises from her chair, and I push mine back as I do the same. One side of her lush lips
lifts as she leisurely walks over to me, her fuck-me heels clicking against the tiles, and the fingertips of one hand dragging
along the table. She comes to a stop in front of me, leaning back to rest on the corner of the table in front of my chair, which she
nods towards. “Sit down.”
Curiosity has me sinking back into the seat. Gone is the timid, bitter woman who has occupied the house for the last few
weeks. In her place is the woman I met all that time ago. The brazen woman I shared one of the best nights of my life with.
Kat smiles when I comply. Her eyes sweep over my form slowly, and she licks her lips. Leaning forward so her
cleavage is inches from my face, she brings her lips to my ear. “So, you want me to believe that you are a man of your word?”
She pulls back, and her vibrant green eyes drop to where my hands rest on my thighs.
Moving my hands to the arms of the chair, I grip the wood hard enough for it to creak under my fingers. I lift my chin. “I
am.”
Kat’s smile turns devious and she brings her hand to my chest, her touch ghosting over my muscles. Turning her
attention to my buttons, she pops the top two open.
She pulls the thigh-high split of her dress open with one hand, gathers the material over one firm leg, and lifts herself
onto the chair to straddle me. Gripping the back of the chair, she presses her core forward until it meets the growing bulge in
my pants, and it takes every ounce of strength I have not to grab her hips and rock her over me.
“Careful, princess,” I warn. “Just because you have my word doesn’t mean it would be wise to see how far you can
push me.”
“Why not? If I’m to believe you, you’ll wait for me to say it.”
I meet her eyes. “Say what?”
Kat’s gaze darts between my eyes. “Theo,” she breathes. She licks her lips, and her eyes drop to my mouth. I feel the
sparks around us as she leans forward, bringing her mouth to my ear again, and her hands move to my shoulders. After a brief
pause, her warm breath brushes over my ear. “Touch me.”
With a growl, I grip her ass cheeks and lift her, pausing only long enough to swipe everything on my side of the table to
the floor, before depositing her on the smooth surface. I grip the back of her neck and crash my lips down on hers. All the
feelings and the many self-love showers I have taken in the last weeks come to a head as my restraint snaps. I don’t give her a
chance to react before I push past her lips, my tongue tangling with hers. She moans into my mouth, her hands clawing at the
front of my shirt and her leg hooking over my hip. There’s the telltale sound of fabric ripping as I part her thighs wider, and
cool air brushes over my chest when she rips my shirt open, sending buttons flying, and she pushes it over my shoulders.
She claws at my skin, trying to bring me closer as her heels dig into the back of my thighs.
Pushing on her chest, I lay her down on the table. With a hand on either side of the dress’s slit, I pull the two pieces
apart all the way to the top, until the dress falls open. Her breasts spill out without the confines of a bra, and the only material
left on her body is the scrap between her legs. That will be going soon too.
I roll a hard nipple between my fingers as I look down at her.
“Theo, please,” she pleads as she arches into my touch.
“Did you think it was wise, princess?” I smooth my hand between her breasts and down her body. “To tempt me when I
was not allowed to lay my hands on you?”
She tries to sit up, but I push her back down again with a hand to her chest. Gripping her hips, I pull her to the edge of
the table until her ass cheeks sit snugly against me. “To see how far you could push me before I broke?”
 My hands smooth over her sides, brushing the underside of her breasts, but moving away just as quickly.
Kat squirms under my touch. “I—I’m sorry. Theo, please.”
“Please, what?”
She makes a frustrated sound. “Touch me.”
I chuckle. “Oh, I will. But first, I think it’s only fair that you experience some of what I’ve had to endure, having you so
close but still out of reach.”
Her eyes widen as I slide her thong down her legs, tucking it into my pocket. I bring my hand between her legs and rub
my thumb over her swollen nub, eliciting a moan that gets louder when I bring my thumb to my lips and suck on it. “Hmmm,
tastes like mine.”
True to my word, I grip the back of Kat’s knees and bury my face between her legs, teasing her over and over again
with my tongue and my fingers until she is begging me to make her come, and there is moisture dripping down the inside of her
thighs. As much as I want to tease her more, to make her feel the same frustration I have since she got here, I’m so hard that it’s
bordering on painful.
I pull her up, sealing my lips over hers and swiping my tongue inside so she can taste herself. “Do you see how good
you taste?”
Kat moans as she grabs the front of my pants, pulling me forward to loosen my belt and pop the button. She fumbles
with my zipper, finally pulling it down and pushing my pants over my hips. Wrapping her fingers around my length, she gives it
a few experimental pumps, squeezing on the way up. When she presses her thumb against the spot just under the tip and swipes
a finger over the slit, my eyes roll back.
Done with waiting, I brush her hand off. Lining myself up with her entrance, I thrust forward, giving us both what we
want as I sink into her heavenly heat. I pull back and thrust again, deeper this time. Kat claws at my back as I pick up a rhythm,
driving into her over and over again, her gasps and moans getting choppier as she gets closer to letting go. When she comes
with a scream, my thrusts turn erratic as I chase down my own orgasm, until I collapse, sated, on top of her. She strokes my hair
as she holds me to her chest, and after a minute, her soft voice breaks the silence.
“I trust you.”
 Chapter 11 - Kat
Something has changed. Between the shared dinners, strangely comfortable conversations, and multiple orgasms over
the last few days, my relationship with Theo has shifted. And yes, I am calling it a relationship, because that is what it appears
to have morphed into. The connection I felt over the last week feels like a full one-eighty. I do not mind it.
Where Theo has avoided me and made no effort to talk to me for whatever reason, now he has started sharing things
with me. Nothing of great importance or anything in too much detail, but it is something nonetheless. When I ask him how his
day was over dinner, he might tell me he had a rough day, or that he needs to decide between one or another business deal. He
only gives me vague information of course, but I appreciate knowing he feels like he can trust me with more than he has up to
this point. Then he advances on me, bends me over the table, and makes me feel all kinds of wonderful. I do my best to return
the favor, even though he says I always make him feel good. I have come to realize he seems to have a thing for doing it on the
table—we have only made it to the bed twice. It’s the same table we have dinner on. Every morning, the cleaning staff scrub it
down, so that should make me feel better, but still, we should probably look into that.
Last night, Theo opened up more about his childhood, as did I. Turns out, even though we were raised on opposite sides
of a power struggle, our younger years were not all that different. Both of us had expectations placed on us at a very young age,
and it was made clear to both of us that our lives were not our own. Although, I seem to have gotten the short end of the stick
where the perks are concerned.
The more I listen to what Theo says, and how he phrases things, the more I realize that he might not be the liar I once
believed he was. I can’t find any evidence of him breaking his word. Yes, he is still responsible for some heinous things, just
like my father, and just like my father the Bratva still runs deep in his veins, but there is also something else that seems to run
alongside it. Theo cares. As much as he tries to hide it—and with good reason—I see it in the decisions he makes. It is in the
way he talks about his men and his siblings. Although I did not have the best first experience with his brothers Kiril and Paval,
I have heard that the youngest brother Maxim and their sister Darya are more relaxed about our situationship.
Around noon, one of the new members of the security detail brings me an envelope. My name is the only thing written
on the outside, no return address, and I do not recognize the handwriting. With mixed emotions, I pull out the folded note, my
hands shaking as I open it. Scrawled on the page is a message from my father. A message telling me that he knows. He knows
that I ran off with some boy. Some boy. My father’s words. My stomach twists the more I read, and by the time I get to the end,
I am clutching my middle as I run to the bathroom. Curled over the toilet bowl, I empty the contents of my stomach, continuing
to dry heave once there is nothing left. After, I splash some cold water on my face and wipe away the moisture that leaked out
from the corners of my eyes. My stomach is still churning as I hold the note up again. What my father wrote here … The graphic
details of all the ways he wants to punish me and the boy I ran off with. He made one thing very clear: he plans on killing both
of us.
Given what he wrote here, I am not sure if my father is aware of the pregnancy or not. Which is what makes his threats
that much more terrifying. If he does not know, and he is already making these kinds of threats, what will he do once he learns
just how far my betrayal runs? And if he does know, it means he is willing to end the life of not only his daughter, but that of his
unborn grandchild just to prove a point. My father had made threats before, but I knew I had too much worth for him to take my
life. Now I am not so sure anymore.
Then there is the matter of my father’s threat to kill Theo. This is not by any means a new threat. I am sure my father has
put many plans in motion to end the lives of his rivals, but now … Now Theo is no longer just some rival. He is the father of
my child, and as much as I have tried to deny it, I have come to hold very deep feelings for him.
Still shaking, I fold the note up, slide it into the envelope, and stash it in the back of one of my drawers. Theo cannot
know about this. Who knows the kind of repercussions it would have? My only hope is that the security detail who brought it to
me has the mind to keep it to themselves.
Over the next few days, I busy myself with readying the room Theo and have decided will be the nursery. After our
intimate night together, Theo showed me another room on the main floor that I had never noticed before. It was a room he had
used now and then for business meetings, but he told me I was welcome to use it for the baby if I wanted. The room is a decent
size, with more than enough space for a cot, a changing station, and a comfortably sized rocking chair. It also boasts large bay
windows that get a decent amount of afternoon sun. So, of course, I jumped at the opportunity.
In my hands are three different cards with various shades of green. Sage, mint, and a soft pastel are the ones that I’m
currently gravitating toward since they also have a calming effect—something our little one could always do with given the
world surrounding them. I also figured, that since we do not know the gender of the baby just yet, it would be a safe option to
go with gender-neutral colors. We should find out in a few more weeks, but waiting until then would mean I have to put off
decorating the room, and at the moment I could do with the distraction.
 So here I am, holding up the colored cards against the wall lit up by the afternoon light. I also have to decide which
ones would go best with canary yellow—another gender-neutral color I plan on incorporating. Submerged in a world of color
choices, I do not hear Theo coming up behind me. I jump when two arms wrap around my waist from behind and his chin
comes to rest on my shoulder. “Hi,” he mumbles, his nose buried in my hair.
“Hey, hi,” I stammer. “You scared me.”
Theo turns me around in his arms and my eyes roam hungrily over his form. Like most days, his attire fits his frame
perfectly, the pants of his suit hanging comfortably on his hips. If I were to turn him around, I am sure I would find his taught
rear wrapped snugly in the way that always accelerates my heart rate. His forearms are bare at my sides where he holds me,
his sleeves rolled up as they always are, displaying the dark ink that I love so much. My gaze moves up from his full firm lips
to his deep colored eyes and the thick brows that are pulled together as he regards me warily.
“What’s got you so jumpy?” he asks.
The fact that my father knows we are together.
He might not know exactly who the boy I ran off with is—and that in itself unlocks a fear in me that I do not appreciate
—but he knows I did not escape on my own. I worry about what he will do once he finds out who Theo actually is. I still do
not understand how the letter found its way to me, and who knew where I was, but I know it will arouse suspicion if I start
asking questions, so I am in no position to find out.
Realizing I still have not answered Theo’s question and worried that he might somehow see the truth in my eyes, I
plaster on what I hope is a convincing smile and shake my head slightly, holding up the colored cards. “Just lost in the magical
world of color palettes.”
Theo’s furrowed brow relaxes, and he smiles. “Having any luck?”
I hold up the mint and pastel green cards. “So far, I have got it down to these two.”
“Those are the same, no?” he asks with a raised brow.
I slap his shoulder with the cards. “Bite your tongue; they are not even close to the same.”
Theo chuckles, the sound vibrating in my chest as he pulls me closer and rests his chin on the top of my head. “I know
that. But it is fun to watch you get worked up about a color choice.”
Wrapping my arms around his waist, I sink into his embrace, letting my worries melt away for a moment. With my head
pressed against his chest, I hear his heartbeat thumping steadily in my ear.
“I missed you today,” Theo says softly.
I pull back, and a worried look passes over Theo’s gorgeous features.
“Well, that’s reassuring.” I pause for a beat. “Because I missed you too.”
It is the truth. Every day he is not around I miss him, and I look forward to our nights together.
A smile touches his lips before they descend on mine in a domineering kiss. Theo’s arms tighten around me as he pries
my mouth open so his tongue can stroke inside. Every now and then we have moments like this when Theo is so gentle it is as if
he thinks I might break. It’s such a contrast to the forceful way he ravishes me most nights, but every bit as breathtaking.
When he finally pulls back so we can both get some much-needed air, he nods towards the door. “Fancy dinner?”
I nod. “I believe Anya made a casserole for tonight. We can head over and eat whenever you’re ready.”
He regards me for a moment before he dips his head again. “Maybe one more,” he mumbles against my lips.
After stealing another three kisses, Theo leads me to the conservatory. We have dinner as we do every night now,
exchanging details about our day. The recounting of my day is much shorter than Theo’s, even if he still does not share too much
with me about his business dealings. The only information I have to share is what I have decided to do in the nursery. I have
asked Theo’s opinion a few times, but he just says I should do what makes me happy, so that is exactly what I plan on doing.
Other than my time with him, it is the only other joy I have to fill my day.
After dinner, Theo makes love to me. I call it this because it is a gentle, meaningful experience, to me anyway. He
whispers sweet nothings in my ear—something I did not think he was capable of—although he still leaves me to sleep alone in
my bed.
When I wake the next morning, Theo has already left for the day. It is nothing new, so it should not bother me, but
somehow it does. Even though things have gotten better—and they really have so I should not be complaining—Theo still does
not include me in any of his business dealings. It would not be such a problem if it didn’t mean that I was left alone every day.
He very seldom has meetings at home anymore since I took over the nursery, although I wonder if there is more to it than not
having a space dedicated to entertaining guests. I wonder if it may also be a way to keep my identity a secret.
The only company I have is the interior decorator who has started coming in to paint the nursery. With me being
pregnant, I am not allowed anywhere near the fumes, so once I decided on the color scheme last night, Theo arranged for
someone to come and implement my vision.
As much as I appreciate having the new company, I still have too much alone time during which my mind runs rampant
with thoughts of my father. As much as I try to ignore it, fear still claws at my insides at the thought of the very real danger that
hangs over my head. I have no one to talk to about it, which means the thoughts sit and stew, growing in menace until I shiver at
random moments throughout the day.
My only hope is that nothing materializes and that Theo is still in the dark about everything. As much as I hate actively
keeping it from him, I fear what he might do if he learns about it.
With how our relationship has evolved lately, I want to believe that it is indeed real. That what I feel for him has merit,
and that he feels the same for me. I worry that if he learns the truth about the letter and the fact that I have kept it from him, it
might cause him to lose his trust in me, and to rethink his changed opinion on me being here to betray him.
It could very well destroy everything.
 Chapter 12 - Fyodor
The steady thrum of my fingertips on the table in front of me should be calming. It is not.
The reason for this is the slimy excuse of a man sitting across from me.
Alexandr Golubev is the shriveled half of a spineless man at best. With his ties to human trafficking and the rumors that
he likes to sample his own products, he is not someone I have ever wanted to do business with. If I never saw his face again, it
would be too soon.
Unfortunately, due to recent developments, I have no choice but to sit here and listen while he spouts a list of demands
he expects me to abide by, only pausing to leer down the server’s cleavage whenever she brings us another round. Which has
been a few times in the short time I have been sitting here. Either the man has alcoholic tendencies, or he is looking to shorten
the time between having a free view of a good set of tits. My money is on the latter.
When he drifts off again as he eyes the poor girl who looks barely legal, I snap my fingers in front of his face. “Hey,
jackass! Get to the point.”
Most days I would not entertain any of this, but today there are extenuating circumstances. When my phone rang and his
voice was the one I heard when I answered, I was ready to end the call almost immediately. Until he mentioned Kat’s name,
stating that he knew she was my new wife. And so, much to my distaste, I agreed to meet him at this seedy joint he fancies and
hear him out. I need to find out how much he actually knows, and how it could affect Kat’s safety.
Alexandr snickers. “Do not forget yourself, Fyodor. I could easily share the information I have with some interested
parties. Who knows what would happen to your new bride if I were to do that.”
I grind my teeth so hard I think they might turn to powder. “That would not be wise on your part.”
Alexandr leans back in his chair, casually crossing one leg over the other. “I feel it necessary to add that I have
contingencies in place. If I do not walk out of here, someone is ready to get the information to the relevant parties.”
My hands ball into fists. It is taking everything in me not to lunge over the table, wrap my hands around his short, thick
neck, and squeeze until I see the life fade from his eyes. “I might not be able to kill you, but there are many other ways I could
teach you a lesson for your imprudence.” I motion to his crotch. “Cutting off your balls and feeding them to you, for example. I
doubt any member of the opposite gender would shed a tear over this. Hell, I would probably be doing them a favor.”
Alexandr jumps up, leaning over the table as he waves a finger in my face. “I will not be spoken to like that!”
No sooner have the words left his mouth than he is looking down the barrels of four guns as my men draw their
weapons from behind me. His men do not even have the time to register what has happened, which means they end up with
their hands on their holstered weapons, unable to draw as my men move their aim to them in warning.
Locked in a stare-down, Alexandr breathes heavily, seemingly vibrating with anger. But I know better. I see the fear in
his eyes and the sweat running down his temple. It puts a rather large dent in the false bravado he tries so hard to maintain. This
is something I can use to my advantage.
I hold up my hand, signaling my men to holster their weapons, and motion for the moron opposite me to take a seat.
“Please, sit. Let’s try this again, shall we?”
Alexandr regards me wearily as he sits himself back down.
“What is it that you want to discuss?” I ask.
“I have information,” he states simply.
“I think we have established that, yes.”
“So, I think it is only fair that I get compensated in some way.”
I quirk a brow. “Compensated?”
Alexandr swallows, seeming less sure of himself. “Yes, as payment for my silence.”
“I see. And what is it that you are looking for as—” I pause, tipping my head to the side. “—compensation?”
“A regular weekly slot on the docks, so I can bring in my shipments. Everyone knows you have the best location with
the least interference.”
He is not wrong. No other organization has the manpower we do on their payroll. We have most of the dock workers,
law enforcement, and local shipping staff under our thumb. The part of the docks we use gets the least attention, for any reason.
All this means we have the fastest turnaround time and the least interference with regard to receiving and dispatching our
goods.
It is a tall ask, though. And not something I think I would be able to get by Kiril, and certainly not Paval. I have not
shared too much about my plans with them, for fear that they might realize this thing with Kat is not just business anymore.
I nod slowly. “And you feel this information holds enough weight for you to make this demand?”
The truth is, yes, it does. I can’t afford for any details about my relationship with Kat to get back to her father just yet. I
need more time to put my plans in motion, and if Igor were to find any of this out now, I would need to rethink everything.
But Alexandr does not know this.
He shifts uncomfortably under my scrutiny. “Yes, it does. You meeting me tells me that.”
I hold his gaze a few seconds longer than I need to. “Did you ever think that maybe this was part of the plan? That I
wanted to meet you because I wanted to see just how far you’re willing to go to prove your disloyalty?”
My answer makes him pause. He rapidly blinks a few times.
“I’ll tell you what,” I say as I clasp my hands on the table. “I will give you two slots, as a show of good faith, to start
our newly found—” I grind my teeth. “—partnership.”
I have no plans to give him anything beyond that. There is a reason I do not do business with Alexandr, and it is not
something I plan on changing any time soon. Partnerships end all the time when one party is no longer receiving anything of
worth. And that is exactly what will happen to this once I have found a way to bring Igor down.
Alexandr’s ego is big enough that he buys the shit I’m shoveling. He grins, swiping his tongue over his rotten teeth.
“That will do, for a start, of course.”
I mirror his sleazy smile. “Of course.”
The men take the long way home because I need some time to mull over everything that has happened and how I am
going to explain all of this to my brothers.
By the time I get home, night has already fallen. Expecting to find Kat already in bed and not on the main floor of the
house, I am not prepared when she rushes me the moment I walk in the door.
“Where have you been?!” she demands.
Her eyes are wild and her hair a mess. It also looks like she might have been crying. She looks as though she is on the
verge of breaking down. At this moment, I see her differently from how I have since the night I met her. She may have
experienced a lot for her age, but she still has a lot to learn. Right now, she looks like a scared little girl who needs
reassurance, even if I am not sure why.
Draping my jacket over the closest chair, I raise my hands in surrender as I advance cautiously. “My meeting ran late.”
Kat stares at me, her chest heaving with her labored breaths. When I get close enough, I grab her by the shoulders,
pulling her to my chest. The moment I have her wrapped up in my arms, the floodgates open and she collapses against me. I
hold her until the sobs subside and her shoulders are no longer shaking as she tries to catch her breath. “Shhhh, what’s got you
so worked up?”
She mumbles incoherently into my chest, and I get nothing. So, I wait until she pulls back to look up at me. She wipes
her palm over her eyes before reaching into the pocket of her robe and pulling out a card of paper, which she holds out to me.
Not quite sure what to make of it, I pluck it from her fingertips with an unsteady hand. The paper itself is not all that
fancy, the run-of-the-mill kind you could find at any craft shop. The unsettling thing is what is engraved on one side.

I know your secret.

Be prepared for a list of my demands, or my next letter will be to your father.
“When did you receive this?”
Kat waves a hand frantically. “Early this afternoon. One of the men found it strapped to the side of the gate. Apparently,
whoever left it there knew there was a small blind spot in the cameras there because they couldn’t pick up anything on the
surveillance. Who could have sent this?” she asks, her voice cracking. “And how did they know where I am and how to get this
message here without being seen?”
The scary reality is, I do not know. Given this new information, it might be time to start vetting our recruits a bit more
thoroughly. And I will need to look into the men on my personal team. It pains me to say it, but with how this happened, it’s not
a stretch to think it might be someone on the inside.
Either that or one of my rivals is getting bolder. One thing I am almost certain of, though, is that I can cross Alexandr off
the list of people who could have sent the letter.
Alexandr’s ambitions are not big enough for him to be responsible for it. Besides, he already gave me his demands, and
as far as he is aware they are being handled.
The timing also does not add up. If Kat received this letter while I was meeting with Alexandr, that would mean that he
sent it before we met. And he does not have the cunning to make that plausible.
No, someone else sent this letter. The problem is that I am not sure who.
That also means I do not know how to fix it. I refuse to sit and wait in fear for someone to advise me on how I can
serve them. That is not something a Dubrov would ever allow. Especially not me.
I need to contact my men and have them look into this. Once they find out who it was, that person will be erased from
existence. But not before wishing they had never drawn their first breath.
A hand on my arm brings my attention back to the woman in front of me.
“What are we going to do?” Kat asks softly.
I debate not telling her. Or just telling her I will handle it. She does not need the details. But this letter was sent to her.
Whether I like it or not, this affects both of us, as well as our child.
“We are not going to do anything,” I say more forcefully than necessary, my growing frustration getting the best of me. “I
am going to have the men find out who sent this. And then break all of their fingers as well as cut off their tongue so they are
never able to send another letter again.”
Kat seems taken aback by my candor. “And how long will that take?” she asks. “Do you expect me to just sit here and
hope that you’re able to find this person before they catch on and decide to share this information with my father?”
“What I expect you to do is trust me.”
“I do—”
“That is not the sense I’m getting.”
Kat pauses, her eyes scanning my face. Her gaze drops to her belly for a moment before it connects with mine again.
She steps towards me, placing a palm on my chest, her other hand moving up to cup my cheek. “My love, I do trust you. I just
think we need to be smart about this.” Her eyes search mine. “If I may offer my opinion?”
Her hands on me cool me down ever so slightly. I give her a stiff nod.
She smiles softly. “I don’t think it would be wise to wait in the hopes that you find whoever made the threat.” She
pauses as if to gauge my reaction. “I think it might be best if we set plans in motion to tell my father. It would be better if he
heard it from us.”
Between Alexandr and Kat, my plan of using this marriage to eliminate Igor as my competition is not progressing well.
“No.”
My short answer has Kat's brows pulling together, her mouth dropping open before she presses her lips together firmly.
“Why not?”
I can’t tell her my reasons. I have not fully opened up about how far I was willing to take this farce, and she is not
aware that some plans are still in motion. Also, I have never felt the need to explain myself to anyone, and I do not plan on
doing it now.
“Because I say so. And what I say is law.”
Does it sound like something my mother used to say to myself and my siblings? Yes. Does that make me sorry for using
it? No.
Kat shakes her head. “Do you love me?”
Her question catches me off guard. “What?”
“Do you love me?” she repeats.
When I remain silent, she sighs.
“If you have come to hold any form of love for me in the time we have shared, you will agree to tell my father about us.
Sooner rather than later.”
 “Will I now?” I scoff.
The look Kat gives me is somewhere between distraught and murderous, almost as though I was working on her last
nerve. The feeling is mutual.
“This is happening one way or another, and whether you like it or not. You might as well be in control of it.”
“Do not presume to tell me what I—”
She holds up a hand, cutting me off as she struggles to maintain her composure. “I am not saying he needs to know about
the baby, but he needs to hear about the marriage. From us. We need to display a united front. And we need to get ahead of this,
or it could all blow up in our face.”
I snicker. “How do you figure that, princess?”
“Do you really want to go through each day just waiting for the other shoe to drop? And how would that look to rival
families? Do you think it would reflect well on the organization if word got out that someone had some sort of power over
you?” Kat tips her head to the side, her gaze firm. “It would only be a matter of time before someone got the notion that they
could take your place.”
She takes my hand in hers, uncurling my fist and laying my palm on her stomach. “It’s not just you and me; we can’t just
do as we please for the sake of entertainment. We have a responsibility to this child. To make sure they can come into this
world without this danger hanging over their heads. The best way to do that is by taking control of this situation and by making
sure we can control the narrative. That would be better than if my father had time to create his own narrative in his mind.”
Kat makes some good points. These are all things that would be mentioned if I had decided to loop my brothers in with
the most recent developments. Despite how her suggestion first irritated me, one side of my mouth now lifts. At the moment,
she sounds a lot like Kiril. Diplomatic. As much as I hate to admit it, she makes a good argument.
Even though I had planned on drawing it out until I could bring Igor down in the most spectacular way—something like
screwing with his operations and unraveling them from the inside, as well as upsetting his clientele enough that he would be
forced to flee the country—it would appear I do not have the luxury of time anymore. There is no longer enough time to get
everything in place for him to fail beyond redemption.
If I play my cards right, I could still use the news of the marriage to my advantage while keeping Kat out of harm's way.
And seeing Igor’s face when I tell him I have legally claimed his precious princess would be priceless. The news of our child
is something I do not plan on sharing, though. Not many people know about Kat’s pregnancy, and I plan on keeping it that way.
Dubrovs protect their own.
I give Kat a stiff nod. “Fine. I will put the plans in motion first thing in the morning.”
“Thank you,” she says before she stifles a yawn.
I chuckle. Clearly, the excitement of the day has worn off and she is no longer riding the high of her stress.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” I place a hand on her lower back to direct her.
Kat waves a hand, fighting a losing battle as she tries and fails to suppress another yawn. “No, I’m fine, really.”
She squeals when I scoop her up, and her arms loop around my neck. “Stop being so stubborn. We just talked about the
importance of looking after the little one. That includes making sure you get enough rest.”
To my surprise, Kat nestles herself into my chest, sighing contently as she relaxes in my arms. By the time I reach the
top of the stairs, she is breathing deeply, clearly having dozed off.
It might be how peaceful and calm she is as I carry her, or the events of the day that upset her so much, that spur my
need to make sure she feels protected. Whatever the reason, instead of depositing her in her own bed as I normally would, I
bypass her room and head straight for mine. After pulling back the dark sheets, I gently place her on one side of the bed, pulling
up the covers and tucking them around her shoulders. I strip down to my underwear, sliding into the other side of the bed and
pulling Kat closer to tuck her against my side. Still asleep, she wraps a slim arm around my waist, her cheek resting on my
chest.
In that moment a contentment I have never felt rolls through me, letting me drift off into a peaceful sleep deeper than I
have experienced in the last decade. In fact, the only time I wake is the next morning, when sunlight is streaming in through the
curtains.
 Chapter 13 - Kat
One would think living in a house with the head of a powerful organization would mean you would have peace of mind.
That very little would cause unrest or make you wonder if it is all really worth it. In reality, it is quite the opposite.
The note threatening to expose my relationship with Theo proves that. Unfortunately, us getting hitched seems to have
given his rivals something to hold over his head, and in turn, mine. Even though we are not sure how they found out, in this
world we are a part of, news sometimes travels. Which means it is only a matter of time before my father finds out the truth.
I tried to forget about the threats from my father and the unknown person. I tried to focus on other things like getting the
nursery ready. I even started looking into decorating other rooms in the house. Some changes have already been made in the
living room, and I plan on moving into the conservatory next. I tried to convince Theo to let me redecorate his sterile office, but
that did not go as well as I had hoped. He refused because he wanted to keep his space the way it was, which led to an
argument because my pregnancy hormones have made me unreasonable. It ended with me bent over his desk and multiple
orgasms. Not quite the result I would have put my money on with Theo being upset, although the pent-up frustration did make it
extra enjoyable.
Sated and slightly delirious, we lay on the sofa in his office afterward and shared more details about our pasts and
childhoods. We also talked about the threats, as much as neither one of us wanted to. Theo seems to have some ideas as to who
the mystery sender could be. He shared his thoughts with me, and although I do not know any of the names he mentioned, the
fact that he shared them with me gave me a warm feeling inside.
Is it for that very reason that I feel sick to my stomach as I tuck the new note into the back of my drawer out of sight?
This is the third note I have received from my father. The first one was concerning enough, but from what my father wrote, it
did not seem as though he knew who I had run off with, so I could still believe that it did not carry too much weight. The
second and third, however, have really gotten under my skin. According to those, my father now seems privy to exactly who it
is that I have been spending my time with, and he is not happy about it. His threats of finding me have morphed into demands
now that he knows where I am. Demands that I come back home or risk consequences. He did not give any details about the
consequences, but he did not have to. I am well aware of what my father is capable of.
I am also aware of what Theo is capable of, and I have likely not even witnessed or heard of the worst of it. This is
why, even though I am sure it must have been the author of the card I received who told my father, I still can’t bring myself to
tell Theo. As far as I am aware he still has his men looking into the people he told me about, and I am not sure how much good
it would do to tell him the person has contacted my father. I still believe that information would start a war, something we do
not have much room for with a baby on the way.
Besides, if Theo saw what my father said, and what threats he made, he would be sure to end his life. Then I would
forever know I was responsible for the death of my father. As much as I begrudge the man for how I was raised and how little I
seem to mean to him, that is not something I think I could live with. Not because he is my father—heaven only knows he has not
done anything to make that title mean a damn thing—but because I am not comfortable being responsible for the loss of any life,
no matter how inconsequential.
Knowing that would likely send my father off the deep end for a completely different reason given the world I come
from and what is expected of us, but murder is something I could never stomach.
So, I’ve decided not to tell Theo about anything. I just try to enjoy the time I have with him. In the afternoons when he
comes home, we share dinner as well as stories. I learn how much Theo cares for his family, and how far he is willing to go to
protect them. The more I listen, the harder it gets to stick with my decision to keep my father’s threats from him. Theo has
started sharing more and more with me, and it irks me to think I am not giving him the same level of honesty. But then I
remember my fear of what could happen if the two families went to war. When I told Theo he should tell my father about us, I
meant it. I had thought my idea about us controlling the narrative would work, and it might have, but now that option is no
longer viable. Now, no matter how we decide to tell the story, my father will already have his own ideas.
This is why when I receive another message the next day, less than twenty-four hours after the last one, I start to panic.
Especially because this one also contains photos with messages on them. There are photos of me in the pool and looking out the
second-story window with are you enjoying yourself and I see you scrawled over the bottoms. There are also photos of
myself and Theo in various loving positions around the property. The most troubling ones are those of us in the conservatory.
Luckily, there do not seem to be any of us in seriously compromising positions, but the messages on those are worse. Is this
how you have been passing the time, shanking your responsibilities, and sleeping with the enemy are on them, the writing
getting almost illegible and cutting into the material, proof of my father’s anger.
The note must have been written around the same time as the messages on the pictures because that too has deep groves
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broad canal, each side of which the marble palaces rose in a
gorgeous line, the market, where gigantic piles of pomegranates
threw a brilliant note of vivid orange and red against the blue and the
green of water and foliage, and above all the silent and immense
judgment hall, with its great marble throne, from whence it seemed
to me that I could still hear the harsh, sarcastic laughter of the dead
Pharaoh and the screeching of his apes.
Once or twice during that day I saw Hugh’s eyes turned with
unutterable longing towards the East, beyond the great canal where,
in the midst of fuchsia groves, stood that white palace, the terrace
with its turquoise blue canopy and its marble floors, on which Sen-tur
lazily chased the ibis up and down.
He had made up his mind that he would not see her again.… The
parting perhaps would be easier to bear.… There was no doubt that
it was all for the best.… She would be happy again when she knew
that he had gone away for ever into the land of dreams.
 CHAPTER XXX.
ROSEMARY FOR REMEMBRANCE

One more picture—the last—in the gorgeous panorama which had

so uninterruptedly passed before our eyes ever since we had as it
were taken possession of this beautiful land—the picture of Kamt in
mourning, bidding farewell to him who was beloved of the gods.
Hugh had made hard conditions with the high priest of Ra. He had
demanded beasts, provisions for the journey across the desert, and
Ur-tasen’s own person as hostage for his good faith. The high priest,
humbly, without question, had agreed to all, and now two days later
at even, while we, wrapped in our dark mantles ready for our great
homeward journey across the desert, stood behind that heavy black
curtain on the very spot at the rear of the sanctuary of Ra from
whence we had first caught a glimpse of the glories of Kamt, Ur-
tasen prepared himself to obey Hugh’s final commands.
The oxen had been chosen, we had inspected the carts and
provisions, all of which stood ready in the vast corridors which led to
the great copper gate, and now, from where we stood, we watched
the high priest as he went up to the mighty gong and, taking the
clapper, beat the metal, so that its volume of sound went echoing far
beyond the gateway of the temple. Thrice he struck the gong, then
there was silence in the sacred edifice: but only for a while, for, very
soon, from the city which was preparing for its evening rest, after the
toil of day, sounds of fast approaching footsteps, of hurried whispers,
penetrated to our ears. The people of Men-ne-fer heard the
summons which bade them come to the temple of Ra, and obedient,
half-frightened, lest they were being called to hear some tidings of
evil, they hurriedly left their homes and flocked to the sanctuary of
the god.
Ur-tasen had withdrawn to the foot of the statue of Ra; there he
waited until the vast edifice was full of people; the lights glimmered
low, only bringing out here and there into brilliant relief some blue or
green iridescent enamel upon a pillar. Men, women and children
were lying prostrate upon the floor waiting for the high priest to
speak. The gossamer veil had been drawn aside so that all might
look upon the majesty of the god, and at the foot of the sanctuary
steps the blind priestesses intoned their monotonous, lugubrious
chant.
Then, when from end to end the gigantic building was filled with
prostrate figures, Ur-tasen began to speak:
“Oh, people of Kamt, behold the majesty of the gods!
“They who have filled your hearts with joy have now shed sorrow
upon the land!
“Thou art mighty, oh, Ra, and mighty is thy son!
“Thou art great, Osiris, and great is thy beloved!
“Oh, people of Kamt, look upwards to the vault of heaven, and
there, amidst the innumerable lamps, which the hand of Phtah doth
kindle in the skies, seek for the face of him who was the emissary of
the gods!
“People of Kamt, look upwards to the skies! and at night, when Isis
doth shine, pure and bounty-giving from above, then remember him
who is beloved of the gods!
“Oh, people of Kamt, look within your hearts, for there alone shall
in future dwell the image of him who is the son of Ra!”
Awestruck, not understanding, one by one the dark heads were
raised aloft, and thousands of anxious eyes peered upwards in the
gloom.
“Oh, people of Kamt, do not mourn! He who is beloved of the gods
hath dwelt amidst you all! He gave you joy and happiness, he spoke
to you of mercy and of love! but the gods up above have need of
him, they called to him, and he hath gone!”
There was a long and universal shriek: the sorrow and
disappointment it expressed was quite unmistakable. I felt strangely
impressed and sad, as if I were assisting at my own funeral. Hugh’s
face, too, was white and set. It is hard to leave those who love one
dearly, hard to go in the very summit of one’s popularity.
The high priest had waited for a while, until the demonstration of
sorrow had somewhat subsided, then he added:
“Oh, people of Kamt! the beloved of the gods has gone!
“Remember, his spirit still hovers round you!
 “Remember the joy he gave you and obey his behests.
“Before he left he spoke his wishes to me, the humble servant of
Ra, our god, his sire, and bade me transmit these wishes unto you,
his people. He, as your ruler and your king, has appointed as his
successor upon the throne, Neit-akrit, the well-beloved of the house
of Usem-ra, and he hath ordained that since Maat-kha, now twice a
widow, hath decided to vow herself to the service of Ra, that you do
obey Neit-akrit as you would himself. She will rule over you, she, the
holy Pharaoh, entrusted by him with the fullest powers, and on her
head alone shall rest the double crown of Kamt, which I, the high
priest of the Most High, All-creating Ra, will place upon her brow.”
Ur-tasen had done his duty. Hugh could rest satisfied. Neit-akrit
would be Queen indeed, and after the proclamation issued at the
very foot of their most cherished god, the people of Kamt would truly
reverence and honour her.
After this Ur-tasen read a short proclamation embodying the other
promises he had made to Hugh: the abolition of the “casting-out”
form of punishment, the complete cessation of all description of
mutilation. The blind priestesses began to sing again, and from the
four corners of the temple clouds of incense rose: the priests of Ra
had crowded round the steps of the sanctuary; they were offering up
a final sacrifice in honour of him who had gone.
Then suddenly, from amidst a distant group, one solitary figure
detached itself. I did not recognise it at first, but Hugh gave a start,
and then I knew who it was.
She came slowly forward, while on each side of her the people
knelt, in order to kiss the ground on which she walked. I don’t think
that I had ever seen her look more beautiful; she was draped from
below the bust, down to her ankles, in a long kalasiris of dull black,
against which her ruddy tresses fell in strands of living gold, each
side of her, right down to her knees. She had neither jewel nor
ornament of any kind; her tiny feet were bare, as were her arms and
shoulders. Beside her Sen-tur walked slowly and majestically, as if
conscious of the solemnity of the sacred building. She stared straight
before her, at the figure of the god; the blind priestesses were softly
chanting a hymn, and she—Neit-akrit—almost as in a dream, began
to mount the sanctuary steps.
 Instinctively my hand grasped that of Hugh: it was cold as a piece
of marble. He did not move, but watched her with a yearning look
which brought the tears into my eyes.
I think that Ur-tasen had not expected to see her, and I saw him
glance furtively in our direction. The group of priests parted when
she came near, to allow her to pass; none dared to stop her, though
the sanctuary of Ra is sacred, and no profane foot should ever stand
upon its steps. But she seemed almost ethereal, as if she had left
her body away somewhere, and it was only the exquisite spirit of
love, beauty and womanhood which stepped towards the god.
At last she reached the foot of the great marble throne—she and
Sen-tur, for the panther had not left her side—her tall figure looked
strangely small and childlike standing alone in the vast sanctuary, at
the foot of the mammoth statue. She was very pale, and her large
blue eyes looked upwards searchingly in the gloom above. Then she
raised her hand, and I saw that in it she held a sprig of white
rosemary; she raised it to her lips and placed it at the foot of the god.
“Rosemary for remembrance,” she whispered softly, so softly that I
felt sure none behind her could hear, and as slowly, as automatically
as she had come, she turned and went, the group of priests parting
respectfully in order to let her pass.
And the vision of the quaint, straight figure, draped in black so like
an Egyptian idol, standing as in a dream at the foot of the marble
statue of the god, was the last which Hugh had of the beautiful girl
whom he loved so passionately, and the word “remembrance” was
the last which would for ever linger in his ear.
After that we allowed the heavy curtain to drop; we neither of us
wished to look again. Let that vision be the last which we should
carry away in our hearts of the beauties of ancient Kamt. Poor old
Hugh, I think he suffered terribly. But he was a man of iron
determination; he had decided that it was right, for her sake and his
own, that he should go, and at this moment even I do not think that
any temptation assailed him to change his resolution. About an hour
later Ur-tasen joined us; he preceded us up the great staircase of
black granite, which was so peopled with memories of our first
arrival. The sleek and poisonous guardians of the gates of Kamt
were lying caged under the baskets of rush, to enable those who had
charge of the preparations for our journey to pass to and fro.
How strange it was to see that great copper slab lowered from
within, and to look out from the gloom of the temple precincts onto
the illimitable desert beyond. Far ahead the Rock of Anubis towered
against the sky, and all along we could see the long road, made
white by innumerable bones of the dead criminals of Kamt.
One by one, on the ponderous grapnel, oxen and carts and
provisions were lowered into the desert. Three priests of Ra were
already below, and were busy loading the waggons and harnessing
the oxen. Then, when all was ready, they were hauled up, and Ur-
tasen, without a word, allowed the belt to be slipped round his waist.
The three priests stood above, placid and silent, doing their work,
obeying Hugh’s directions without a comment. They were to remain
here, ready to reopen the gates for the returning high priest.
I followed Ur-tasen, and finally Hugh also descended. Everything
was in order. I took charge of one team of oxen, Hugh of the other.
And we started on our way.
Above us, without a sound, silently, drawn by unseen hands, the
gates of Kamt were shut against us for ever.
 CHAPTER XXXI.
THE END

Beside the Rock of Anubis, Ur-tasen parted from us. He had not
spoken one word since we started, but here he asked if Hugh was
satisfied.
“Quite satisfied,” he replied.
“Then farewell, oh, son of Ra!” said the high priest, solemnly. He
knelt down and kissed the sand of the desert, then quietly he rose
and started to walk back towards the gates of Kamt. We watched his
gaunt figure across the desert until a boulder hid it from our view; it
looked bent with age and disappointment. I think he felt that the
youthful ruler of Kamt would not place much power in his hands, and
that the stranger, though absent, had conquered after all.
The journey across the desert was terribly wearisome at first, but
gradually Hugh’s taciturnity fled and we spent many happy hours in
remembering our golden visions and looking over the many
treasures which lay at the bottom of our carts. The oxen, however,
stood the journey very badly; one by one they dropped upon the
road, and the last six days of our voyage we did on foot, carrying as
little water as we dared, and we were very close on starvation point
when, late one evening, we reached the grave of the Greek priest,
which faced the setting sun. We rested here that night, and weak,
tired out as we were, we spent half the night in watching… watching
an imaginary point on the horizon, which is more fair, more gorgeous
and grand than aught which Western civilisation has ever dreamed
of.
And now we are back at The Chestnuts, and Hugh and I are not
as young as we were. Dear old Janet welcomed us, much shocked
at our terrible appearance; but the day after our arrival there was no
trace outwardly on either of us of the strange adventures we had just
gone through. We resumed our quiet, English, bachelor life, as if the
last few months had been all a dream; and at times now, when I sit
beside the great log fire and watch the dying embers on the hearth, I
wonder whether the vision of the ancient hordes of Egypt, the glories
of Men-ne-fer and Tanis, are not all a product of my excited fancy,
and, above all, I wonder whether the vision of a tall, girlish figure,
whose hair is like the rays of Osiris when he sinks to rest, and whose
very name breathes romance and mystery, is not one of those
dreams with which the remembrance of dear old Mr. Tankerville was
always wont to lull me to sleep.
Then I look up lazily from the fire in which my aching eyes had
seen vast temples and mammoth carvings, and I see close to me
Sawnie Girlie sitting at his desk.
He is writing one of those learned books which have spread his
fame from one corner of Europe to the other, and before him there is
a tiny gold casket with a glass lid, within which lies a faded and dried
sprig of rosemary.
“White rosemary for remembrance!”

[The End]
 TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
Originally published in the U.S. in 1907 as “The Gates of Kamt,”
this book was retitled “By the Gods Beloved” (the same as the U.K.
edition) in 1921 with no other changes to the text.
Illustrations by Margaret West Kinney and Troy Kinney.
Minor spelling inconsistencies (e.g. ghostlike/ghost-like, high
priest/high-priest, etc.) have been preserved.

Alterations to the text:

[Chapter II]
Change “this labour of Sisyphus, the framents of brown dust” to
fragments.
[Chapter III]
“at its very base Rholf found traces of an ancient way” to Rholfs.
[Chapter XXII]
“who would worship at her shine—the shrine of love” to shrine.
[Chapter XXV]
“so that she might ecsape the just and awful punishment” to
escape.

[End of text]
*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BY THE GODS
BELOVED ***

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