Page 47 of The Pakhan's Dangerous Secret
"We'll see about that." Bogdan starts toward the door, dragging Sophia with him. But he pauses at the threshold and turns back. "This isn't over, Melnikov. I know the real reason you married her. You think she's going to lead you to Pushkin's treasures. And when the other families find out, they won't let it stand."
22
ANDREY
Bogdan's threat hangs in the air like smoke after a gunshot. I watch him drag Sophia out of the library, and my jaw clenches so hard, I'm surprised my teeth don't crack. The moment the door closes behind them, I turn to Matvey.
Our eyes meet, and no words are necessary. We've worked together long enough that a single look conveys everything. Bogdan needs watching. He's pissed, humiliated, and dangerous. Men like him don't let slights go unanswered.
Matvey nods once and pulls out his phone as he heads for the door. He'll set up surveillance, make sure we know Bogdan's every move. I trust him to handle it.
The second we're alone, Mariya rounds on me.
"What the hell was that?" Her green eyes are blazing, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Were you really engaged to that woman?"
I run a hand through my hair, exhaustion settling into my bones. "I told you the truth. There was no engagement. No contract. Bogdan wanted the match. I said I'd think about it. That's all."
"Foryears?" She takes a step toward me, and I can see she's still furious. "You let them believe for years that you were going to marry her?"
"I was stalling." I move to the window, looking out over the grounds. "I didn't want to marry Sophia. I don't love her. Hell, I barely know her beyond polite conversation at family gatherings."
"This is so fucked up," she finally says.
"I know." I cross the room and stop in front of her. "But it's done. You're my wife now, and I protect what's mine."
She opens her mouth to respond, but I hold up a hand. "We need to talk about what we found at the cabin."
Her expression shifts, the anger fading into something more guarded. "The list."
"The list of safehouses." I move to my desk and pull out the scroll we'd found buried in her mother's garden. "This is dangerous information, Mariya. The kind of information people kill for."
"I know."
"Why did your father have this?" I unroll the scroll, studying the names and addresses. "What was he planning to do with it?"
"I don't know." She moves closer, looking over my shoulder. "I told you, I haven't seen him in nine years. He never told me about any of this."
I believe her. I can see the genuine confusion in her face, hear the frustration in her voice. She's as much in the dark as I am.
"But someone else knows about it," I say. "Someone ransacked the cabin looking for something. They didn't find this, but they know it exists."
"What are we going to do?"
The fact that she says "we" instead of "you" makes something warm settle in my chest. She's starting to see us as a team, even if she doesn't realize it yet.
"We're going to be very careful," I tell her. "And we're going to figure out what your father was trying to tell us."
A knock at the door interrupts us. One of the maids pokes her head in, her expression apologetic. "Breakfast is ready, sir."
My stomach growls, reminding me that we haven't eaten since yesterday. "Thank you."
I offer Mariya my arm, and after a moment's hesitation, she takes it. We walk to the dining room in silence, and I'm acutely aware of her hand resting in the crook of my elbow. She's warm and soft, and I have to resist the urge to pull her closer.
The dining room table is set with enough food to feed an army. Eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, pastries, and coffee. Mariya's eyes widen slightly at the spread, and I remember she's been living on a librarian's salary and cutting corners wherever she could. This kind of excess is probably foreign to her now.
We sit across from each other, and I watch as she fills her plate. She eats with the same careful precision she does everything else, taking small bites and chewing thoroughly. It's oddly endearing.
"Am I still a prisoner?" she asks suddenly, setting down her fork.
