Deceitful Vows (Marital Privileges #2)

25. Andrik

25

ANDRIK

M y eyes flick from Zoya’s rapidly dwindling frame to a fleet of SUVs rolling through the front gates of my palatial mansion when Mikhail finally answers my call. “You’ve reached Brody’s. How can I help you?”

“Are you a complete fucking idiot?”

I don’t give him a chance to answer because I don’t need to hear his words to know that is precisely what he is.

His breathy chuckle tells me everything I need to know.

“Or are you so determined to make my life a living hell that you’re willing to drag her to the fiery depths alongside me?”

My annoyance grows, and I hate that I don’t need to say Zoya’s name for him to know who I am referencing. “Anoushka said you are seeking a new PA for this region. Zoya studied?—”

“We are seeking a new PA for this region because the last one asked the wrong houseguest why I was paying the rent of a one-bedroom apartment on the outskirts of Myasnikov when I own multiple estates not even a twenty-minute drive from there.” When he remains quiet, not quite putting the pieces together as fast as I’d like, I spell it out for him. “She asked Arabella, who doesn’t have a single fucking thought without running it by her mother first. The same fucking woman who has our father eating out of her palm.”

“Fuck.”

That’s it. That is all he gives me.

Then, after numerous cusswords, he says, “I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, you weren’t.”

And neither the fuck was I. I’m not going to tell him that, though.

My plan was to move closer to Zoya’s location to protect her, not pin a target on her back, but even something billed as a country escape was impossible to implement with the federation and my father breathing down my neck.

My every move is being scrutinized, and I hate it almost as much as I loathe the devastated look Zoya gave me when I had to pretend she’s nothing but a prop for me to fuck with.

I didn’t lie two weeks ago when I said she hasn’t left my head for a single second. She’s in every frame, but I’m not the only one playing her features on repeat.

Her name has been tossed around too often over the past month for me not to pay careful attention to every mutter.

If I hadn’t looked up with a second to spare, I would have been busted violating the very woman I’m endeavoring to hide.

I can’t fight fire with fire when Zoya is directly in front of me. It isn’t possible. I’m not thinking about vengeance or the possible retaliation I’ll face when they find out the man my mother struck didn’t die of natural causes.

Nothing but the thrill of the chase is on my mind, and how much I crave my middle name being spoken by Zoya while she’s in the midst of ecstasy.

But as quickly as the wish to make her climax burns through my veins, so does the remembrance of the last time I failed to protect the only person I truly cared about.

As much as I should hate to admit this, Zoya’s fiery attitude attracts me more than her vulnerability. I love that she’s willing to push the boundaries and that she has the gall to pull off a raid not even the world’s deadliest assassin would consider.

She won’t just slap a man who does her wrong.

She will wholly fucking destroy him.

But I can’t stomach picturing her enduring the same outcome of my mother.

That’s why I need to toe the line while endeavoring to unearth the key players of the federation. I need to play this game with the integrity it deserves, and so the fuck do the people who are meant to be on my side.

“You almost put her in their direct sight, Mikhail.”

“Only almost?” Mikhail queries, hearing what he wants to hear.

I shift my eyes from the SUVs coming to stop under the large canopy that is usually bustling with employees but now resembles a ghost town to Zoya’s shadowed figure. She’s visible enough for a trained sniper to take her out, but barely a speck for someone with aged eyes.

My grandfather is a fit man for his age, but he can barely see two feet in front of him.

Thank fuck.

Arabella’s vision is far more percipient. After exiting the door I tore through when my intuition had me tracking Zoya’s location faster than the reports of numerous surveillance cameras being taken offline, Arabella follows my gaze over the rolling hills before trudging to my side without the giddy anticipation of a soon-to-be bride.

As I curl my arm around her waist, weakening the narrowed glare of my grandfather who is watching the farce from his office window, I twist us away from a planned meetup the federation organized before shifting my focus back to my conversation with Mikhail.

“To maintain his cover, Konstantine will drop her off at the closest truck stop. Find a way there before them or start digging your grave.”

I’d rather Konstantine take Zoya back to her apartment, but since he is the only man on my team I trust to guide my next move, I can’t instruct him to do that. I need Mikhail to step in, not only to take the heat off me, but also from Zoya.

If they think she was here for Mikhail as she lied about earlier, her arrival today won’t be second-guessed. My family’s estates are as much his as they are mine, so it is a pliable cover.

“I’ll be?—”

I disconnect our call before all of Mikhail’s reply leaves his mouth. I’m too hot with vengeance to hear any more of his excuses, and too fucking hard from the scent of Zoya’s arousal on my palm to have any conversation, much less the one I’m about to endure.

“Kazimir, darling, come meet our guests.” Dina ushers me over as if we’re standing in the driveway of her home before she introduces me to two men I swear I’ve seen before. “Please meet Dr. Abdulov and Dr. Azores.”

I shake the middle-aged men’s hands before shifting on my feet to face the additional three who appear to have more authority singularly than Dr. Abdulov and Dr. Azores combined. One has a large scar down one side of his jaw and carries himself with a confidence that announces he is rarely without a weapon. He’s most likely the protective detail, though I will save my judgment fully for after Konstantine has arrived.

My intuition has been impaired the past few weeks, so I’m not as trusting of it as I once was.

With the trio not eager to offer an introduction, I tighten my jaw before gesturing for them to enter my family’s country manor as if they’re wanted guests. They’re not, but since I must move in silence until I can announce checkmate, I pretend they are.

When Arabella and her mother shadow their steps, I beat them to the door before spinning to face them, blocking their entrance. “Did they get everything needed?”

“Yes,” Arabella answers softly, her head faintly bobbing.

Dina remains quiet. She doesn’t need to speak for me to hear her accusatory tone. Her brow is as spiked now as it was when she demanded they travel back to this part of Russia with me so Arabella could attend an appointment with a dress fitter favorable with the stars.

I initially told them no, that any appointments they need to attend to can be done in-house—it will make any possible media leaks about her identity less likely. Then I remembered Arabella isn’t as schooled at hiding her expressions as her mother is. She’s far easier for me to read, so I wanted to witness her first interaction with my grandfather in person, desperate to know if they’d met previously.

She gushed as most people do, and almost stumbled while reaching out to accept the hand he was holding out for her, but she seemed more concerned about impressing him than impressing the bigwigs strategizing his every move. That’s all the proof I need that she’s not yet wholly under the federation’s thumb as the man I killed last month made out.

“Would you like to see the designs on the shortlist?” Arabella asks, drawing me back to the reason I’m barricading the entryway. “They’re all beautiful and will pair well with any tuxedo coloring you choose, but I’d like you to have the final say on the dress I’ll wear on our big day.”

She stops rummaging through her oversized purse when I shake my head. I don’t need to approve the designs she picked because I have no intention of seeing her in any of them. The devastation that flared through Zoya’s eyes when she thought Vanka was my wife assures me of this, not to mention the recent news that Arabella’s first attempt at conception was unsuccessful.

The test results emailed to me this morning were fresh in my mind when I suspended all the scheduled insemination dates slated in our contract. It was mere minutes before I detected Zoya’s presence.

I still plan to implode the federation. I just need to change tactics to make sure their downfall occurs without unnecessary casualties.

A handful of matters need to be finalized before I can publicly announce my “separation,” starting with the meeting being delayed by a woman with no authority questioning mine.

With time not in my favor, and my mood souring, I get to the point rather snappily. “Since there is no reason for you to be here anymore, I will request Anoushka to organize you transportation home.”

Arabella has more gall than I give her credit for. “I’d rather stay.” When her interruption raises both my hackles and my brow, she pushes out quickly, “I was hoping we could confirm some wedding plans while we’re here. A beautiful chapel twenty miles from Chelabini is usually booked out years in advance, but they said they could adjust their schedule for?—”

She is cut off by the last person I expect. “Not now, dear. It is clear Kazimir has important business matters to take care of.” While adjusting the collar of Arabella’s dress, Dina tsks her as if she is still a child. “You should not encroach on his time more than necessary, especially for things of little importance.”

“I wasn’t meaning to be a pain. I was just…” Arabella looks as confused as she sounds. “I’m sorry,” she eventually settles on. “I will do better.”

Her apology doesn’t appear to be for me, but since I don’t have time to remind a grown woman that she doesn’t need to obey her parents’ every demand, I dip my chin before telling her I will be in contact shortly.

Arabella replies. I miss what she says since Dina commences a brutal dressing-down a mere second after I enter an estate that’s been in my family for centuries with them on the outer, as I hope they’ll soon be permanently.