Page 71 of The Pakhan's Dangerous Secret
After a few minutes of walking through what felt like a warehouse or industrial building, they make me sit in asurprisingly comfortable chair. Leather, high-backed, the kind you'd find in an expensive office. Then the blindfold comes off.
I'm in an office. A very nice office, actually. Dark wood paneling lines the walls, and the desk in front of me is massive, polished to a mirror shine. Bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes flank either side of the room, and a crystal decanter sits on a side table with matching glasses. Everything about this space screams wealth and power.
And the man sitting across the desk from me is… gorgeous.
I hate that my brain registers that fact first, but it's impossible to ignore. He's maybe in his early forties, with dark hair swept back from a face that could belong in a cologne advertisement. Sharp cheekbones, a strong jaw, and pale blue eyes that study me with unsettling intensity. He's wearing an expensive suit, perfectly tailored, and when he smiles at me, it's the kind of smile that probably makes most women weak in the knees.
My stomach churns instead.
"Mariya Pushkin," he says, his voice smooth and cultured. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."
I don't respond. I just stare at him, keeping my expression neutral even though my pulse is racing.
He stands and moves around the desk with easy confidence, leaning against the front edge so he's closer to me. Not threatening, exactly, but definitely invading my space in a way that's meant to intimidate.
"Allow me to introduce myself," he continues, that charming smile never wavering. "I am Anatoly Gusev."
This, then, is the boss of the new family. The Pakhan who's been making moves against Andrey's territory for months.
"I apologize for the dramatic entrance," Anatoly says, gesturing vaguely toward the door. "But I needed to ensure our conversation remained private. I hope my men weren't too rough with you."
I force myself to smile pleasantly, the way I've been trained to do since childhood, when dealing with dangerous men. "They were perfectly professional."
"Good." He studies me for a moment, his pale eyes tracking over my face, down to my throat, and lingering on the curve of my breasts beneath my shirt before returning to meet my gaze. "You're even more beautiful than the photographs suggested."
The compliment makes my skin crawl, but I keep smiling. Any minute now, Andrey and his men will show up. They have to. Andrey wouldn't just let me be taken without mounting a rescue. He's probably stopped somewhere nearby while he and his men study the surroundings to make the best possible "rescue."
I just need to stall.
"Thank you," I say, my voice steady despite the fear coiling in my chest. "Though I'm not sure why you went to all this trouble just to tell me that."
Anatoly laughs, the sound warm and genuine. "Direct. I like that." He moves back around the desk and pours two glasses of what looks like expensive vodka from the crystal decanter. He offers one to me.
I take it but don't drink. I'm not stupid enough to consume anything this man gives me.
He notices but doesn't comment, settling back into his chair and taking a slow sip from his own glass. "I wanted to meet you because I believe you're wasting yourself on Andrey Melnikov."
The bluntness of the statement catches me off guard. I set the glass down on the edge of the desk, my hands folding in my lap to hide their trembling. "Is that so?"
"It is." Anatoly leans forward, his elbows resting on the desk. "You're intelligent, educated, and connected to one of the most powerful Bratva families in Russia through your father. You could be an incredible asset to the right man."
"And you think you're the right man?" I keep my tone light, almost teasing, even though my stomach is twisting into knots.
"IknowI am." His smile widens. "Andrey is… adequate. He's held his territory for a few years and built some loyalty among his men. But he's limited. He thinks small. Local operations, regional influence. He doesn't have the vision or resources to expand beyond what his father built."
I want to argue, to defend Andrey, but I bite my tongue. Anatoly is testing me, trying to see if I'll react emotionally or stay controlled.
"Whereas you do?" I ask instead.
"I have connections that span continents," Anatoly says, his voice taking on an edge of pride. "Shipping routes through the Baltic, partnerships with syndicates in Eastern Europe, and financial networks that reach into legitimate businesses across multiple countries. I'm building an empire, Mariya. Not just a territory."
He stands again and moves to the window, looking out over what I assume is the city beyond. "And tonight proved how easily I can reach into Andrey's world."
The words hit like a slap, but that doesn't mean Andrey won't come for me.
"Very impressive," I say, forcing admiration into my tone. "Though I'm still not sure what this has to do with me."
Anatoly turns back to face me, his pale eyes gleaming. "I'm offering you a choice, Mariya. You can return to Andrey and continue playing house with a man who can't even protect you properly. Or you can stay with me and become part of something much bigger."
