Page 7 of Cruel Russian Pakhan (Safin Bratva #1)

I slammed the door to my office and paced. The attempt on my life had to be Artyom’s doing. Who else could it be? But what the hell was he thinking, sending assassins after me while his sister was there? He put Vera in the line of fire like she meant nothing. That told me everything.

Artyom wasn’t just manipulative. He was dangerous. If using Vera was part of his game, then nothing was off-limits. I’d underestimated him.

That wouldn’t happen again.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed. I already suspected Artyom was behind the attack, but I just needed proof to justify my retaliation.

Timur answered on the second ring.

“Find out who ordered the hit tonight. Let me know the second you do.”

I hung up before he could respond and dropped into my chair.

I’d been furious when I realized Vera had slipped out from under my nose again. But all the fire she spat at me vanished the second the bullets started flying. If I hadn’t moved her when I did, I’d be a widower. My siblings didn’t come to our wedding, but they’d damn sure show up for her funeral.

Maybe that’s exactly what Artyom wanted—a dead sister in my care to spark a full-scale war.

Hadn’t he trained her in battle, though? He had to have taught her at least how to defend herself, how to react to certain situations, to keep her emotions in check.

Maybe she was playing me. But the way she shook, her lowered gaze, and how tightly she clung to me checked all the fear boxes. She was either terrified, or she was the best damn actress I’d ever met.

And I wouldn’t put it past her; she was a Rykov. She was probably even more manipulative than her brother. She had the advantage of playing the game with soft curves, emotional pull, and those damn alluring eyes of hers.

I shoved tonight's events out of my mind and refocused on the paperwork on my desk. As soon as Timur gave me the confirmation that I needed, Artyom wouldn’t see me coming.

As the days passed, I stationed a guard beneath her window and made myself clear: if she vanished again, I’d put a bullet through every guard assigned to her, no questions asked.

When Jaroslav asked if I’d gone ahead and married Vera, I simply told him there was a complication and that I was handling it. He knew better than to press further, so he let it rest.

What surprised me, though, was Artyom’s silence.

Since the night of the planned wedding, he hadn’t reached out again.

I’d expected him to at least attempt to contact Vera directly, or to try to get a spy past my guards to get to her after his failed assassination attempt.

But he did neither. She had to have contacted him somehow, and he would've known where she was.

Something wasn't adding up.

Timur still hadn’t confirmed who ordered the hit, but the gunmen my guards didn't take down that night were found dead. Their bodies were dumped in an abandoned building in Callowhill. After all, dead men told no tales.

With everything I had on my plate, I couldn’t shake Vera’s reaction from my mind. Part of me was convinced she was lying, but another part couldn’t deny the trauma I saw written on her face, carved into her body language after the shootout. So, I decided to do something about it.

Dressed in gym wear, with the bag of things I had purchased for Vera in my hand, I made my way to her room. Without knocking, I unlocked the door and entered.

The television was on, but she just sat there in a daze. She hadn't even heard me come in, which wasn't a good thing.

I closed the door loudly enough to get her out of her stupor but softly enough not to startle her. Immediately, her head spun in my direction, and she shot to her feet and took a few steps back.

I walked over and held out the bag.

“Put these on,” I ordered.

Vera folded her arms. “Why?”

I rolled my eyes internally. Did she have to question everything?

“We’re going to the gym downstairs. This week, I’m teaching you self-defense.”

I swore I caught a glint in her eye before it faded as she took the bag. I thought she was going to head to the bathroom to change, but this was Vera. She wasn’t a woman who made anything easy.

“You thought I was going to get you killed out there, didn’t you? Is that what this is about?” she asked, her eyes narrowed.

“I didn’t think you’d get me killed,” I said. “I thought you’d get yourself killed.”

Her jaw tensed. “Why didn’t you let me, then? It would've made your life easier. You could find a wife who actually loves you and wants to be here.”

“In our world, marriages aren’t built on love. They're built on convenience.”

And leverage, but saying that part out loud would put her on the defense. I needed her to be open to get the information I needed.

Vera scoffed. “So, I’m a convenience?”

“Yes.”

I wouldn’t lie to her. Letting her die before I got the information I needed from her wasn't an option. And besides, Artyom would’ve told her the lie I fed him, that I needed a wife to bear my children. So, she knew exactly what this marriage was: a convenience. Why was she acting so surprised?

“A convenience you had to protect…so she wouldn’t get herself killed?” she snapped.

“Yes.”

If she had died out there, things between the two factions would've imploded. Even if it had been her brother’s doing—which I still didn’t have the proof of which I needed—he would've spun a different tale to anyone willing to hear out a grieving brother.

Vera rolled her eyes. “So, in this self-defense class, you’re going to teach me to dodge bullets?” she asked, dry and mocking.

I stalked toward her, stopping just shy of touching her. I looked down at her and she stared back at me without flinching.

God! She was so infuriating.

“Will I teach you to dodge bullets? No. Will I teach you how to move fast enough to survive a shootout? Yes. Will you learn to shoot, so you can take down your share of men if it happens again? Absolutely. No wife of mine will be caught off guard.”

I stepped back. My voice flattened. “Now, if you're done with the questions, go change.”

She saluted. “Yes, sir!” With an eye roll, she disappeared into the bathroom.

I let out a breath through my mouth as I stood by the door, my arms folded. Was this what marriage with Vera was going to be like? Head-butting at every turn? Even Jaroslav knew not to question my authority, but Vera didn't care. Was she testing me to see how much she could get away with?

Before I could finish the thought, Vera stepped out of the bathroom, and I wasn’t disappointed by what I saw. Everything fit her perfectly—a bit too perfectly. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself not to close the distance like some horny teenager itching to run his hands over every curve on display.

When I looked at her face, there was a flicker of something in her eyes that I couldn't quite read before it disappeared.

“Follow me,” I said, gruffly, and exited the room.

Behind me, I heard the door close and her footsteps following. No way was I walking behind her when she was dressed like that. I just hoped my gym shorts offered enough coverage that I wouldn't embarrass myself.

But you don’t like her, remember? She’s the enemy. Only here to serve a purpose.

True—but, she’s also a woman, and a damn beautiful one. I’m a red-blooded man, not a monk. And when it came to Vera, my brain and body didn't always share the same agenda.

At the gym, I opened the door and let her walk in first. My eyes struggled to stay above her waist as she walked past, but I lost the fight. I took in the slight sway of her ass as she walked before forcing my eyes upward and walking into the gym.

I stepped into the ring and held the ropes open for her. Once we were both inside, I turned to face her.

“I’m going to run through a few moves. Let’s see how you respond.”

She nodded with a light smile, but her body was tense.

I started with the basics: wrist grabs, a bear hug from behind, a light chokehold from the front and back. Then we moved to pad work; I let her throw punches, tested her reaction time with quick taps to her shoulders and arms.

She failed every single one.

There was no way she was faking it. She fought back, sure, but not like someone trained. Her movements were frantic and wild, like in the van, not calculated and precise. Her reactions were based on instinct, not skill.

Artyom hadn’t trained her.

And that disgusted me more than I expected.

“I was horrible, wasn't I?”

Vera's question pulled me out of my thoughts, and I looked at her. She was biting her lower lip and wringing her hands.

“Nothing that can't be fixed if you really want to learn. You do want to learn, right?”

If Vera didn't have any desire to learn, our sessions would be futile.

She straightened her shoulders. “Yes, I want to learn.”

“Good. And because you're a woman doesn't mean I'll go easy on you.”

Because enemies didn't care. They'd see her as a weak link and take her out first.

“I didn't expect you to.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Now, are we going to train, or are you going to stand there talking?”

For the next hour and a half, I kept our training focused on basic self-defense drills: how to stand her ground, keep her balance, and fall without hurting herself.

We practiced breaking out of wrist grabs, bear hugs and chokeholds.

At first, her movements were clumsy, but she listened, focused, and didn’t complain.

Then I had her dodge swinging pads, and taught her footwork patterns.

Halfway through, I saw how tired she was, but she didn't quit.

She kept pushing herself past her limits, and I couldn't help but feel proud of her.

At the end, we ran through a few cooldown stretches before I tossed her a towel.

“I’ll be back at your room in thirty minutes. You’re having breakfast with me.”

Before she could respond, I turned and walked out of the gym without looking back.

I needed to put some distance between us, needed to get my damn head straight.

Watching the sweat glisten on her skin, and down the path between her breasts, had my thoughts drifting places they had no business going. At least not yet.

I got to my room, took a cold shower, and threw on my suit.

Fifteen minutes later, I was dressed and pacing like a damn lunatic.

I didn’t understand it. I'd just spent over an hour with her, yet I already wanted to see her again. I didn’t do ‘feelings’ or relationships.

I never had the need. With one phone call, I could have any woman I wanted.

Maybe that was it; it was just sexual tension.

We’d been in the same house for over a week, and the only time I’d kissed her was to seal our wedding vows.

But I couldn’t afford to get distracted. She was still a Rykov, still the key to taking down Artyom. And if I let myself forget that for even a second, it could cost me everything.

Exactly fifteen minutes later, I unlocked Vera's door, then knocked. As much as I wanted to barge in like I had that morning, I needed time to compose myself before I saw her. I stood there longer than I should have. And just when I was about to grab the handle to enter the room, the door opened.

She stood there in fitted dark jeans and a black top that clung to her like a second skin. The dip at her chest drew my gaze before I could stop it. She wore simple sandals on her feet, her soft curls brushing her shoulders.

I extended my elbow to her. She hesitated, then took it, and I led us toward the dining room in silence.

When we arrived, I pulled out her chair. She sat without a word, and I took the seat beside her, at the head of the table.

It was time to stop stalling. I’d delayed this long enough.

The next phase of the plan started now: seduce Vera and uncover the Rykov family’s secrets.

If Artyom thought he could try to break our deal and then send men to kill me without consequences, he was gravely mistaken.

That was a mistake I’d make sure he paid for every miserable day he had left on this earth.