Page 21

ANISSA

I drift off to sleep, and this time, I don't dream. Thank god.

If I have to relive that night one more fucking time…

I wake to hear Matvei on the phone. I don't know what he's talking about, but I can tell he's asking questions, and he keeps saying things like, "Okay, that's good to know. Perfect. Yeah, of course I can do that. Thank you."

When he comes to me a few minutes later, he's holding a tray in his hands.

"What is this?"

I sit up in bed, the pain still there but not as excruciating as before. The medication Polina gave me helped, and so did the heating pad.

"These are the foods you need right now," he says, his brows knit in consternation.

Why is this so adorable? He's never done anything that actually made me think, that's adorable , but this?

"This is a bowl of berries with antioxidants, and there are walnuts and eggs. And some beef sausage." He looks up at me, serious and stern. "There's, like, iron and stuff."

"Did you make this for me?"

"Of course I did. Why do you look so surprised?"

"Because you're the same man who caged me," I say, tilting my head to the side. I wink.

"And I'll cage you still if you don't eat your fucking breakfast," he says.

Aww. On brand for being an asshole.

"There's spinach in the eggs. You need your leafy greens. And this is sourdough bread, toasted with butter. It's for digestion."

"Oh my god, you sound like some kind of fitness influencer."

"A what?"

I shake my head and smile. "Never mind. This looks delicious. Thank you."

"How's your pain level right now?"

"Tolerable."

"Scale of one to ten?" he snaps sternly.

I shrug. "I mean, like… six, seven."

"Holy shit! A six? Are you serious right now?"

He sets the food down and picks up his phone, checking something. "You can't have any more meds for another couple of hours…"

"I can deal with a six. I'm starving. Just let me eat. Maybe it'll bring it down or something."

Eating is not gonna bring my pain level down, but he's freaking out.

My appetite is ravenous. I eat one bite after the other, and I smile at him over a mouthful of food.

“You did good. Thank you. Did you eat too?”

He shrugs. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, no, that’s not an answer. Sit down and eat.”

“That’s for you. ”

“Matvei, you made enough food to feed a football team.” I stare at the mountain of eggs and toast in front of me.

He scowls. “You need to eat.”

“I am eating. But seriously, how many eggs is this?”

“Four.” He folds his arms. “You need protein.”

I point at the ridiculous pile of toast. “And what’s with six slices of toast? Worried I’d run out mid-bite?”

He shrugs. “The first two didn’t toast right, so I just… kept going.”

Despite everything, I feel a small smile tug at my lips. “I think you accidentally made an entire loaf.”

“Maybe.” He gives me a look. “Are you gonna eat or just keep running your mouth?”

To appease him, I take a few more bites. It’s actually really good. I pick up the water he gave me, pausing when I notice the pink tint. I narrow my eyes. “What’d you do to the water?”

“Electrolytes.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. I take a sip, shaking my head. “You really don’t half-ass anything, do you?”

He smirks. “Not when it comes to you.”

"And the bathroom is filled with… supplies and stuff." The tips of his ears turn pink.

If I wasn’t already falling for this man before, this might have done me in.

"I just got off the phone with Rafail and then Zoya."

That catches my attention. "Zoya? What’s going on?"

"Oh, she was the one who helped me decide what you needed. Polina had to go somewhere with Rafail, but Zoya told me what food to cook and what supplies to get."

I nod. "I’d really like to get to know Zoya better. Seriously, can you please eat some of this food with me?"

He sits down, dutifully picks up a slice of toast, and takes a bite, locking eyes with me like it’s some kind of serious business negotiation.

"O’Rourke warned us about Interpol," he says between bites. "They’re breathing down our necks. They’re working with the Russian authorities, and they’re looking for you."

I shrug, rolling my eyes. "I figured they would eventually."

He gives me a sharp look. "Oh shit. Seriously?"

I nod. "Of course. It was only a matter of time."

His jaw tightens. "Yeah, and the Irish won’t cover for you. The only reason they’re not cooperating with Interpol is because they fucking hate them and formed an alliance with us."

That part surprises me.

"So I take it you and Rafail aren’t too keen on the idea of me running again?"

I can’t quite keep the petulance out of my voice.

I don’t like feeling like a caged bird.

But I’m so damn tired of running.

"Do you and Rafail have a plan?" I ask curiously.

I take another bite of fruit, then more eggs, chasing it down with the pink electrolyte drink. It’s actually pretty good.

My plan has always been to run.

Run from my father.

Run from Rafail.

Run from Matvei when I was being chased.

But what other options do I have if running isn’t one of them?

Matvei watches me carefully. "For now, Interpol believes you’re still in London. They have no idea that you’re here with me."

"And the only one who does—the only wildcard—is O’Rourke," I finish for him.

His gaze darkens.

"Tell me one more time," he says, voice low. "Were you or were you not involved with O’Rourke?"

I shake my head, answering honestly. "Of course not. I told you—the Irish wanted nothing to do with me. They used me as a contractor, but I was always kept at arm’s length." I give him a serious look. “And even if I were, you and I both know you’d risk the entire alliance if you did anything about that.”

His eyes narrow. “Worth it.”

I shake my head. "Matvei, you know The Undertaker’s reputation as well as I do."

He blows out a breath, shaking his head. "Like fuck I do. Doesn’t mean O’Rourke isn’t fucking obsessed with you.”

I give him an incredulous look. “ O’Rourke ? I don’t think so.”

He stares and mutters to himself, “She has no fucking idea…”

“What? How dangerous he is? Of course I do. I was there for years while?—”

“ No ,” he says, shaking his head. “How fucking gorgeous you are. How any man gets one look at you and needs to have you.”

I stare at him, and just because I don’t know what to say, I reach for a ripe strawberry, but before I can take a bite?—

A spasm of pain shoots across my back, wrapping around my abdomen like barbed wire.

The fork clatters to the plate.

Matvei pales. "Are you okay?"

I grit my teeth, shaking my head, trying to push the tray off my lap.

I need to curl up again.

I need to?—

Matvei moves fast.

In one swift motion, he grabs the tray, sets it aside, and eases me onto my side.

His huge hand spans my abdomen, pressing flat across my belly. With his other hand, he massages my lower back, strong and firm, working over the knots of tension with slow, practiced strokes.

It feels so good.

So fucking good, as if his hands were meant to do this.

I breathe through it, feeling the contracting pain lessen little by little.

Over and over, he massages my back, whispering something soft in Russian, but I don’t quite catch it.

"There you go. Breathe," he murmurs.

I feel like I’m in labor, and he’s my doula.

And for the first time, a pang of grief hits me so hard I’m not prepared for it.

It slams into my chest, twisting something deep inside me, aching so fiercely that I struggle to breathe.

My throat tightens.

I shake my head, so fucking sad.

And I know when I tell him the truth, he won’t have any use for me anymore.

All this time, I’ve been wondering how to get away.

And now, my greatest fear is that he’ll want to get rid of me.

I’m so fucked up.

The pain subsides enough that I can think again, and when I do, I force myself to speak.

"I need to use the bathroom," I whisper.

My body is tight, aching from holding onto the pain.

Matvei helps me sit up.

"Of course," he says gently. "Let me know if you need anything."

I hesitate.

Then, “Thank you.”

When I open the bathroom door, I draw in a short breath.

He's got all my supplies in a little basket, neatly arranged next to Epsom salts, scented bath oils, and lotions. High-end, luxury items I wouldn't buy before now because it always seemed like such a waste. He has half a dozen hot water bottles on a shelf, numerous vials of pain meds, and other supplements too—iron, pain relievers, homeopathic remedies I’ve never seen before. Essential oils, roller balls, everything.

I come back to the room a few minutes later, shaking my head. "Did you go on a little shopping spree?"

"I picked up a few things," he says with a shrug. "We're having steak for dinner too. Supposedly, liver is really good for you, but that sounds disgusting."

I nod in agreement. "I’d rather be in pain than eat that. But I don’t want to stay in bed all day.”

"Just for today," he says softly but firmly. "After today, I'll consider letting you out of bed again. But for now, you stay here."

Frustration wells in my chest, and I cross my arms, staring him down.

"But I don’t want to."

I barely refrain from stomping my foot like a damn brat. "What if I get out of bed anyway?"

He gives me a look and quirks an eyebrow.

"Do you know exactly what will happen if you get your little ass out of bed?"

"Don't patronize me."

"Don't disobey me."

I throw my hands up in the air. "I don't need to stay in bed all day!"

"And if you step foot out of bed, you won't sit for a fucking week. So maybe make a choice."

A little thrill runs through me.

Why do I like this?

I’m not going to unpack that right now. I’m still trying to sort out the whole cage thing.

"Bed," he says sternly.

"Fine, Daddy ," I throw back at him.

Oh fuck. I’m not prepared for that feral look in his eyes.

My heart sings. This, this, HIM.

He picks me up and gives my ass a—kind of—gentle smack. For him.

He doesn't want to hurt me because I’m already in pain. Oh my god, he's so cute. Bossy prick.

"You are so fucking lucky that you're not feeling well right now," he mutters as he carries me back to bed. "I swear to god, I would redden that pretty ass of yours so damn fast.”

"Is that a promise?" I tease, trying to sound sultry, which only earns me an adorable growl.

He lays me back down, and I’m very reluctant to admit that it actually feels really good. Fresh sheets, clean linens, and a thick duvet still warm from the hot water bottle he tucked inside.

I sigh contentedly.

"See? It's not that bad. And I have a couple of other things to keep you busy too. First, Rafail has a job for you."

He grabs the huge tablet, rifles through a couple of apps, and taps one.

“See this? You can help. Yana is going to walk straight into Interpol and erase every shred of evidence they have on us.”

I blink. “I’m sorry, she’s doing what ?”

Matvei doesn’t even look up. “You heard me. They’ve got files—names, locations, transactions. Your picture. It’s bad. Yana is the only one who can get inside without raising alarms, with your help.”

I stare at the screen, the official database pulled up in front of me. “And how does she plan on doing this?”

“That’s where you come in, of course. She needs an airtight cover—new credentials, backstory, access to codes. You’re going to make her disappear into the system.”

I exhale, already calculating the layers of forgery I’ll need to pull this off. “And if she gets caught?”

His expression darkens, and my heart thumps. “She won’t.”

Okay, alright.

I rub my hands together with glee.

I didn’t want to lie in bed all day because all I’d do is think about how uncomfortable I am. But now that I have a job to do? That’s so much better.

"But she doesn’t need that until tonight, so you can take your time. However, after that…" He smirks. "I downloaded a few things."

I flip through, my eyes widening at the details.

Wow, I love this.

"There are three different streaming apps for you. Zoya and Ember did give me a whole list of books for you to read, but I don’t trust them. They read mafia romance. Who the fuck does that?"

"Um, me? Starting today?"

He shakes his head, smirking at me.

"I downloaded a couple of games too. No idea what they are. They were highly rated.”

I narrow my eyes suspiciously. "Why did you do all this?"

"Because I’m trying to make sure that I don’t have to tie you to the bed," he says with practiced patience. Then he lowers his voice, and his eyes darken, half-lidded.

"Believe me, I have every intention of tying you to this bed. But not until you're better."

A shiver runs through me, heat pooling in my stomach.

“Wait. Did you buy me…a teddy bear ?”

A caramel brown teddy sits at the foot of the bed.

He shrugs. “So what if I did?”

Then his phone rings.

"Under the covers," he orders. "I have to take this."

I curl up, flipping through the tablet with glee. It’s slick. And I love this next job.

Yana is intelligent and capable. I know precisely what kind of disguise I'm going to put her in.

And she's going to love it.

I’m flipping through my contacts, creating the document she needs, and making really good progress when I hear Matvei on the other line.

"No. Yeah, I know. Not this time."

But when I go to check through the apps here, I see a file folder. I click it out of curiosity and freeze when I see a familiar name on one of them.

Gleb.

My eyes dart to the door.

He's still talking, his voice rising and falling, deep in conversation.

I keep two browsers open, ready to shut one down the second I need to.

But I can't help myself.

My fingers tremble as I click on the file.

I turn the sound lower and stare at the footage in front of me.

My heart is in my throat.

On the screen, a man who looks exactly like Matvei—but younger, angrier—hangs by shackled wrists, his body bloodied and bruised.

Oh my god.

I don’t want to watch… but I can’t look away.

It’s a window into Matvei’s past. A glimpse of who I’m really dealing with.

I need to watch.

I need to see what happens.

I can’t make out who stands in front of him, but the deep voice from beneath a hood sounds like Rafail.

"Confess what you did to all of us. Details."

"I tricked you," the man says, voice shaking, equal parts angry and repentant. "I made you believe you were trapped in this, but the entire time, I knew it was a different woman. I knew they were identical. I knew you’d fall for it, that I could trick you into it."

"You conspired to make us enemies of the Romanovs."

They go on and on, discussing details I don’t fully understand. But every word that comes out of the man’s mouth convicts him further.

I know they’re going to kill him. I’m watching brutal history unfold while keeping an eye on the door because if he sees me watching this…

They fire off question after question, one after the other, until finally, Matvei steps forward.

"Recite the Vorovskoy Mir ."

The prisoner’s face crumples.

"Matvei, please. You’re my brother. We grew up together. You can’t do this."

"Recite it."

Matvei doesn’t shout.

He doesn’t have to.

He strikes the man with something I can’t see, and the scream that follows makes me flinch.

Matvei’s voice is merciless. "You know the penalty for betrayal. But I want you to know exactly what you did that brought us here."

The door handle turns.

My breath catches.

I rush to click the X button, my hands shaking, and quickly move to the other browser window.

Matvei steps inside, looking down at his phone as he does.

"Making any progress?"

My heart aches.

He’s a monster.

But he’s my monster.

Maybe this is why he loves Edgar Allan Poe—the macabre, the dance with death, the horrible longing for peace that never comes.

Desperation.

Because sometimes, staring into darkness with your own two eyes makes the one you dwell in that much easier to handle.

I manage to speak. "Yeah, I’m making progress. I’ll have it done by the end of the day."

"All right," he says. "Take a break."

He winks at me, and my heart turns over in my chest.

"I don’t want Rafail to think you’ll do exactly what he says the moment he asks."

A smirk.

"I’m the only one who gets that privilege."

I scoff. "That’s what you think."

* * *