Deceitful Vows (Marital Privileges #2)

47. Andrik

47

ANDRIK

I t’s been clear from the start that I don’t have the ability to deny my every want when Zoya is in front of me. She reminded me that I had a heart before Zakhar’s condition encouraged me to utilize it.

She’s an asset I never saw coming and a conquest I’ll never stop rejoicing, but I won’t have her at all if I don’t fix the mistakes I’ve made.

The hope in her eyes when I promised not to let anything come between us again… fuck .

It cut me like a knife.

My decisions are hurting her, and for what reason? The federation wants me to fall in line. Who better to help me do that than the hellion I crave more than air?

It will be harder to protect her when they learn of the wealth she offers my life, but that’ll be easier to achieve since I will no longer have to hide her away.

I also dare them to try. They felt my wrath when I was blindsided by Zakhar’s lineage. That won’t be one tenth of the hell I’ll rain down on them if they try to hurt Zoya.

Mikhail leaves one of the bars dotted around the aquatic wonderland petty criminals were planning to use as their playground when he spots me exiting the pool cabana I dragged Zoya into hours ago.

We didn’t spend the entire time fucking. We talked, and I ate—again. It was the most delicious palette I’ve ever sampled, but it left Zoya so zonked that my numerous attempts to wake her were fraudulent.

Her exhaustion means I have to leave her in Mikhail’s care again. The torment isn’t as bad since I know it will be short-lived.

“Maksim was pissed as fuck that you left your station mid-stakeout,” Mikhail murmurs, his drawl similar to the one he used numerous times during our childhood when he was starting trouble. “But I reckon he might be thanking you now.” He grins when I stare at him with a cocked brow. “Konstantine will explain on the way.” He tosses me a set of keys and a new listening device before he heads for the cabana I just left.

“Mikhail…”

He doesn’t turn around as my stern grumble demands, but he does give me the answer I’m seeking. “I’ll leave your note this time. I promise.”

Mindful he doesn’t hand out promises like candy on Halloween, I tell him I will return shortly, before heading for my sports car parked out front after a brief stop at the giftshop.

The streets are packed, but the joys of owning a high-powered prototype is that you can get anywhere fast. Not as fast as my helicopter, though the rush is almost as blood pumping.

Though I doubt anything will match the rush of euphoria I experience anytime Zoya is quivering beneath me.

Anoushka greets me in the foyer when I enter my home. Since it is warm out, I’m not wearing a coat, so she removes a soft leather briefcase from my grasp and stores it in the coat closet.

“Zakhar?”

One name and her face lights up with fondness. “He is well… considering .” She closes the coat room door and then spins to face me to slacken the groove between my brows with words. “He hasn’t stopped asking for you all morning. There were numerous comments about a promised treat.”

Her smile is as bright as the low-hanging sun when I jingle the chocolates I purchased from the hotel giftshop on the way out. They’re dark and filled with creams only old ladies love, but when you’ve been deprived of sweets most of your life, you don’t care how bad they taste. You devour every piece.

“I better refill his vodka before waking him. We don’t want him up all night with a tummy ache.”

Concern colors my tone. “He’s asleep?”

When she nods, I check the time. It is late enough in the afternoon to serve supper.

Anoushka’s reply weakens the guilt weighing heavily on my shoulders. “He heard you sneak out and refused to settle until an hour ago. He is in good spirits.” Her kind eyes say the words my mouth refuses to speak . If only good spirits could fix his heart. “Would you like me to wake him now?”

I almost nod, but I can’t pledge to stop being selfish only to break it hours later. So instead, I shake my head. “Let him sleep. We will have plenty of time for sweets when he gets a new heart.”

There are no ifs or buts when it comes to the last part of my statement.

Zakhar will get a new heart. I will make sure of it.

“Okay.” Anoushka rubs my arms in a motherly manner. “I’ll be in the den if you need me.”

She’s halfway there when I ask, “Is Konstantine here?”

Her gesture mimics the one I made moments ago. “He hasn’t been back since this morning. Would you like me to reach out to him?”

I take a moment to deliberate before replying, “No. I can handle this.”

I also don’t want any witnesses. The last thing I need now is my crew thinking I am a spineless leech.

Anoushka’s smile is a little more hesitant this time. I understand why when I crank my neck in the direction of her gaze. A long fleet of SUVs are rolling down my driveway. The one in the middle of the pack is flagged.

“Move Zakhar into my room.”

While she does that, I call Konstantine.

“She’s still asleep,” he murmurs through a yawn, not bothering to issue a greeting. “And shockingly, Mikhail is stationed outside her cabana.”

I sigh in relief before getting down to the reason for my call. “I’m getting an unexpected visit from my grandfather. Is there any chatter on what it could be about?”

Maksim and I commenced plans to take the federation down in a joint operation that will strengthen his crew as much as it will mine, but it is in the preliminary stages. We have multiple lower-valued affiliates we need to coerce under our reign before we can go after the big dogs.

My agreeance was sealed after Maksim promised to keep the black-market organ sales on this side of the country in operation until Zakhar receives a new heart.

Konstantine’s fingers fly over his keyboard before he says, “Zakhar’s DNA test results are back.” He tells me what I already know. “He is your son.”

I nod like he can see me.

Knowing Konstantine, he probably can.

“Did Zak’s sample match with anyone already in the federation’s system?” I talk as fast as the secret service scan my manicured lawns, seeking any dangers lurking in the bushes, unaware I’m the biggest threat to my grandfather’s reign.

Another handful of keystrokes before a whoosh sounds down the line. “No. But that’s not surprising considering what we know.” Konstantine is great at staying one step ahead of our enemies. “I’ll commence my own search shortly. For now, where do you want me?”

My eyes flick to the hallway Zakhar’s room is located in before they lower to the floor. The person I’m endeavoring to protect as fiercely as my son isn’t in the basement. Her ex is since I still haven’t had a second to breathe unmonitored.

“Here. Mikhail won’t let anything happen to Zoya.” That kills me to say, though it is honest. Mikhail protects Zoya like she is the sister he never had the chance to meet.

Konstantine hums in agreement before telling me he’s on his way. “Daniil drives like shit, but his foot never touches the brakes.”

The smirk his commentary caused slips when my grandfather’s demanding voice booms through the entryway of my home. This isn’t the first time he’s visited me, but he’s never displayed glee when he’s walked through my oversized front door.

He approaches me with the walk of a nobleman before fanning out his arms. With an inward sigh, I step into his embrace before kissing both his cheeks.

I refuse to acknowledge the hand he holds out.

Hell will freeze over before I will ever kiss the family crest on his pinky finger ring. It isn’t the exact design as the one the man I killed weeks ago was wearing, though it still grates on my last nerve. How can you shade your family name with so much controversy but wear its emblem with pride?

“Andrik.” He inches back and smiles widely. “I never thought I’d see the day. A great-grandson from my favorite grandson.” His eyes are full of fake elation. Even when we followed his rules to the wire, he’s never treated us with respect. He rules with an iron fist, and Mikhail and I have been subjected to its fury on more than one occasion. “So, where is the boy?”

When he scans the palatial floors of the living area, I realize he is unaware of Zakhar’s condition.

How can that be? He is the federation’s number one puppet.

I put my game face on with only a second to spare. My responses aren’t being scrutinized solely by my blood. My grandfather has arrived with numerous strangers. There is only one face I recognize in his posse. Kolya, his chief of staff.

“Zakhar is getting ready for supper. He will be down shortly.” I gesture my hand to the den. “Until then, shall we have something to drink?”

My grandfather is in his eighties, but he loves a stiff drink as much as every other Russian man. He nods before dismissing the men surrounding him with an arrogant flick of his wrist.

“You, too, Kolya.”

Kolya almost argues but thinks better of it when he is subjected to my grandfather’s deep rumble. It is a clear sign that he has reached his limit of disrespect.

I wait for him to be seated before showing him my selection for our pre-supper splurge. His eyes drop to the label for the quickest second before he jerks up his chin in approval.

Pricy vodka slips over the rim of a crystal glass when he says, “I wasn’t sure if you would be in. Your movements were last placed at a hotel not too far from here.”

I don’t need to turn around to know the cause of the slap that hits the coffee table. It makes the same noise as the files I used to bribe Dr. Hemway.

“I can understand your fascination, Andrik, but your father has done enough damage to our family name. I can’t have you adding more.”

I wet my suddenly dry lips before twisting to face him like I’ve not been endeavoring to keep my relationship with Zoya under wraps for the past eight weeks.

As suspected, a manilla folder sits on my coffee table. Its slide exposes numerous surveillance images of Zoya and me. The top of the stack is me dragging Zoya out of the backstage area of the bikini competition.

There’s disappointment in his tone when he says, “Your wife has undergone in-vitro fertilization?—”

“Which has been unsuccessful,” I interrupt, like Arabella’s failings aren’t my fault. “Hence me looking elsewhere.” I hand him his vodka, then sit across from him. “I did not know of Zakhar’s existence at the time, so I still believed time wasn’t in my favor.”

He nods as if he believes my lies before sipping on his drink. Once his mouth is tingling with the effects of alcohol, he scrapes his rheumy hand across his lips.

“If your wife is not with child, now is the ideal time for you to choose who you want to move forward with your plans. We cannot have another incident like the one we had with your mother. The public wants a love story, not…”—he rolls his hand through the air like he can’t think of the word before he eventually settles on—“pornography.”

I stare at him in disbelief. He’s making it seem as if I can choose whom I wish to marry. That it isn’t the federation’s choice.

With my surprise too high for me to discount, I blurt out, “Zoya has not been vetted by the federation.”

Air whizzes from his nose. “And yet you continue to place her above your wife.” His eyes flick up like he knows which room is Zakhar’s. “And perhaps even your son. I would say the vetting has already been done.”

I want to call him a liar before spitting at his feet, but I can’t. I put Zakhar’s life at risk because I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone seeing Zoya in a bikini. I fucked up, though I honestly can’t say I wouldn’t do it again if placed in the same predicament. It makes me a horrible father, but cut me some slack. I was thrust into fatherhood without the months of lead-up most men get. I’m still learning. I will make mistakes, just not all of them will be unfixable.

My grandfather freezes with his glass halfway to his lips when I say, “Zakhar is sick. He needs a new heart.” My jaw tightens to the point of cracking. “A heart he is being denied because I am choosing love over a political campaigner’s idea of an ideal First Lady.”

“No,” he denies. “They want you to wed. They don’t care to whom. Women can be trained to be anything. Your mother?—”

“Was forced out because she reached her expiration date.”

I’m not the only one shocked by my outburst. I am usually more controlled. As in command as my grandfather when he ends our conversation with the dignity of a political powerhouse. “You have much to learn. I look forward to teaching you.” He stands before signaling for Anoushka to fetch his coat. “But not until Zakhar can learn the same lessons.”

When he holds out his arms again, I’m not as stingy with my farewell as I was with my greeting. His reply is a roundabout way of saying Zakhar will get the help he needs because he will make sure of it.

While returning my cheek kiss, he whispers in my ear, “Marry who you want but make your decision now. I will not allow our legacy to continue being stained with matrimonial travesties.” He inches back before saying a quote I haven’t heard in decades. “When you make a promise, you keep it. Don’t you, Andrik?”