Forced Marriage Vows

8. Mikhail

CHAPTER 8

Mikhail

A fter a long-winded argument that ends with Anastasia refusing to see my side of things, I manage to coerce her into one of the bedrooms so she can get some rest. Now I’m seated in my home office, holding a stress ball in my hand as I mull over the events of the day.

The sharp ringing of my phone cuts through the air and I’m entirely unsurprised to see Ivan’s name flashing across the screen.

“Were you able to reach her in time?” he asks as soon as I pick up.

“Of course I was. She’s in my house right now.”

“And she’s not hurt?”

The question offends me. “What type of man do you think I am?”

“That doesn’t concern me. But you need to understand that Anastasia is innocent in all of this. I understand you need her, but if you hurt her, I promise I’ll kill you before Igor gets a chance to,” he says rigidly.

I smirk. “That’s really sweet of you, Volkov. But allow me to worry about Anastasia’s well-being. Focus on your wife.”

“Igor managed to escape to an unknown location. We’re still trying to track him, but nothing’s working out. He only trusted a few people with the location of the safe house.”

“And my father wasn’t one of them?” I drawl.

“No, he has no idea. And neither does Zakharov.”

That has me sitting up. “You managed to capture him.”

Yuri Zakharov is the fourth of Igor’s commanders. And his most loyal one.

“Yes. He’s being held in one of my bunkers. He was going after Igor but we got to him in time. As for the safe house location, I’ll leave getting it out of him to you. But I’m not sure if he knows.”

I smile at the prospect. I’ll enjoy making a man like Yuri squeal like a pig.

“And if he doesn’t have it?”

“Then that’s too bad. We go ahead with the wedding and your rise to power. You become Pakhan and we hope when Igor finally decides to crawl out of the shadows, we’re ready to take him down.”

I don’t like that. Waiting for my enemy to come to me, it’s not in my nature. A part of me is sure Anastasia knows the location of her father’s safe house. Getting it out of her won’t be easy, though.

“Thanks for the hard work, Volkov.”

“Just make sure you’re worth it,” the older man says gruffly before ending the call.

Once he does, I look down on my table, staring at Anastasia’s phone. I collected it from her before showing her to the room. She didn’t even put up much of a fight, not that it would have done her much good if she had.

Her phone lights up occasionally with texts from her best friend, and her latest text spells her worry. I’ll allow Anastasia to talk to her once I’m sure she’s become more acclimated to her situation.

I hold my breath when her phone rings, her brother’s name flashing across the screen. I watch it, making no move to answer the call. It rings two more times before going silent.

The fact that he called her without calling me tells me all I need to know.

He knows.

I decide to prepare breakfast for myself and Anastasia as a means of breaking the ice. Or at least get her to stop staring at me like she expects me to pull out a gun and shoot her in the head. By the time she wakes up, I’ve already made French toast, scrambled eggs, and coffee, all placed on the dining table.

She steps out of the room in the same clothes she was wearing yesterday. She looks beautiful, despite obviously just waking up. Her blonde hair is piled up on her head in a messy bun and there’s a sleepy look in her deep brown eyes. Something searing lashes at my chest at the sight of her.

“Morning, sweetheart,” I greet as she walks toward the dining table with careful steps.

She eyes the spread suspiciously, looking from it to me in confusion.

“Is that a SpongeBob apron?” she finally asks after a couple of seconds.

I look down at the article of clothing with a cartoon character drawn on it.

“Oh, is that what the yellow guy is called? I wouldn’t know. This was a gift from an ex-girlfriend.”

Her lips part. “I don’t know what’s more unbelievable, that you don’t know what SpongeBob is or that someone was able to stand you enough to be in a relationship with you.”

“I’m a perfectly tolerable man, Anastasia,” I reply.

“Perfectly tolerable men don’t kidnap women from their homes,” she retorts, a fire in her brown eyes.

“You’re still on about that?”

“It happened yesterday, you ass! And you’ve yet to let me go.”

“Alright,” I say on a nod. “I’ll take it under consideration, after you eat. I made breakfast and it’s getting cold.”

“Unbelievable,” she mutters under her breath.

But she doesn’t argue any further as she takes a seat at the table, pulling one of the chairs back. She must have been pretty hungry because she starts eating without another word. I watch her for a couple of seconds, trying to decide what my next move should be.

“Stop staring at me like a creep,” Anastasia says around the rim of her coffee cup.

I chuckle, sliding into the chair opposite hers. “You know I’ve never had a woman in my home before?”

“Really?” she drawls. “And what about all those women who had the misfortune of being in a relationship with you?”

“I have other properties. But those were girlfriends, you’re to be my wife, Anastasia.”

She chokes at that, coughing lightly for a couple of seconds. Once she’s done, she lifts her eyes to mine.

“Would you stop saying that? It’s not happening.”

I give her a look, urging her to stop being delusional.

“Why do you even want to marry me?” she questions, exasperation clear in her tone. “Is it because of a crush? Are you hiding some kind of ridiculous infatuation, Mikhail?”

She says my name with a sharpness that cuts through the air between us, and I’m surprised by the question. But the memory of that kiss from years ago rises between us like smoke, thick and inescapable.

Her voice lowers, her gaze piercing. “Or maybe you’ve just forgotten that kiss? That moment we shared… and then you disappeared like it meant nothing.”

Her words hit like a blow, and I lean forward, holding her gaze. “Of course I remember,” I murmur, voice steady, but I feel the way my chest tightens. “Leaving was… necessary. Out of respect for your brother.”

Her expression hardens, a mix of anger and hurt. “Respect for my brother? You really think that means something to me? I thought we had something real, Mikhail, and you walked away without a single word.”

I can’t hold back anymore. I lean closer, my hand moving to cover hers on the table. “It meant everything to me, Anastasia. And that’s exactly why I left. I didn’t know what I wanted and didn’t want you or Ant to have to put up with the fuckery. But don’t think for a second that it was easy. I’ve thought about you every day since.” My voice drops to a near whisper, raw with honesty.

“When I saw you again at the club for Anthony’s birthday, I knew it had to be you. I won’t marry anyone else but you, because you’re the only one I’ve ever burned for. That’s why this plan is perfect.”

She pulls her hand back, her lips parting, but the words seem caught in her throat. I see the cracks forming in her resolve, her defenses falling piece by piece.

But I sit back, giving her space. “I’m not here to lie to you, solnyshko. I’m here because there’s no other option in my mind. It’s you, or it’s no one.”

Her cheeks flush, but she fights to keep her composure. “You think you can just show up, kidnap me, and then expect me to fall for all of this?”

“I think you know I don’t take no for an answer,” I reply, a half-smile tugging at my lips.

She turns away, her face a storm of emotions. But I see it—the way her guard slips, the hint of something more than just anger.

It’s only a flicker, but it’s there, and I cling to it. One day, I’ll break through that wall. One day, I’ll make her admit she feels it, too.

She scoffs, crossing her arms, her gaze defiant. “I don’t buy that for a second. One kiss, you disappear, and suddenly I’m the one? You expect me to believe you’re serious? I must be one hell of a kisser,” she says sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“You have a big ego, solnyshko ,” I say warmly.

It’s a term of endearment in Russian. One that slips out without me realizing. It aptly describes her, though. Somehow, Anastasia’s become a person that thaws me. Makes me feel warmer. A sun. My sun.

“No, I’m being serious. Marriage is a lifelong commitment,” she stresses, ignoring the nickname.

“I’m aware.”

“You want to be tethered to someone you don’t like for the rest of your life? No, that’s bullshit. There has to be something there.“

I consider that for a moment.

“In the spirit of being completely honest. I’ll admit that I find you extremely beautiful, and before this entire fiasco, I had indulged in some… thoughts of you. Far beyond that kiss and not the gentlemanly type,” I confess.

“Meaning you wanted to fuck me,” she says dryly, not the least bit surprised.

I shrug. “Like I said, you’re incredibly beautiful.”

“So that’s it. You don’t even like me. You just find me hot and want to get in my pants,” she mutters. “You do understand how problematic it is that you had to go down this route instead of trying to achieve that goal like a normal person?”

“Interesting,” I murmur. “Are you saying you’d have fucked me if I asked, Anastasia?”

The tension in the room goes up a few notches and I notice Anastasia’s cheeks grow a little redder.

“Of course not. I wouldn’t sleep with you just because you asked, dickhead.”

I throw my hand over the chair at my side as I observe her. “So what would it take?” I ask, entirely serious.

She exhales softly, looking away from me. “I’m not talking about this with you because number one, it’s never going to happen. And number two, you’re basically my kidnapper and I hate your fucking guts.”

I smile, my gaze returning to the food in front of me. “You started it, solnyshko ,” I tell her.

“Don’t call me that.”

I ignore that in favor of finishing off my breakfast. My mind goes to the mountain of things I need to do this morning, starting with leaving the house and heading to Volkov’s secret bunker in order to interrogate Zakharov.

We’ve just finished breakfast when the doorbell rings. I get to my feet to open the door, finding Jerome on the other side.

“Good morning, Mr. Morozova,” he greets, pushing up his glasses. “I brought all the stuff you requested.”

He’s holding several shopping bags in his hand. I nod once in acknowledgment before shifting out of the way so he can bring them into the apartment. I notice Anastasia approaching carefully, her gaze narrowed on the bags.

“Jerome, this is my fiancée, Anastasia,” I introduce, gesturing toward her. “Anastasia, Jerome.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Vasiliev.”

“Hi, Jerome,” she says kindly. “I’m not actually his fiancée. And I’m not going to be.”

Poor Jerome looks confused, but he doesn’t dwell on it.

“Right. These are clothes and shoes. All your essentials. Mr. Morozova informed me that you’d need them since you arrived in his home without your luggage.”

“Because he kidnapped me,” Anastasia says under her breath. She looks at him with a raised eyebrow. “Do you have any idea how depraved your boss is, Jerome?”

“I’m catching him up to it, sweetheart,” I assure her.

Jerome is aware of my position in the Bratva and what it entails. He’s surprisingly okay with it. All he asked was that he wouldn’t be put in any danger. He likes me more than I expected because I know without a doubt I’m not an easy boss to have.

Whatever I did to inspire his loyalty must have been pretty good if even telling him I was to be the next head of a crime syndicate didn’t send him running for the hills.

“That being said, go start up the car, Jerome. I’ll be down in a couple of minutes.”

He leaves without another word while I turn to Anastasia. She’s inspecting the clothes with a frown.

“You realize this is a complete waste of money, right? I have a perfectly good closet back home.”

I step toward her. “You’re not going back there.”

She glares at me. “Surely you realize your behavior is leaning toward psychopathic. You can’t keep me here forever, Mikhail.”

“I could get used to that,” I say with a smile.

“What?”

“The sound of my name on your lips.”

Her expression shutters and she frowns.

“Noted. I’ll make it a point not to use it,” she states.

“We’ll see,” I murmur. “I’m going to leave you alone now, sweetheart. But you can’t go anywhere. I have men watching the building and they have orders to drag you back in if you even try to take a step outside. That goes for you calling for help as well. No one needs to get hurt, Anastasia. You just need to stay put.”

Her eyes narrow. “I want my phone. Leah will be worried.”

“I sent her a text this morning. You’ll get to talk to her tonight when I’ve ascertained that she won’t be a threat.”

“You’ll pay for this,” she says, a promise in her eyes.

“I look forward to seeing all the ways you plan to make me pay, solnyshko ,” I state, drawn by the fire in her brown eyes—eyes so deep you could fall into them and never find your way to the surface.

She lets out a short breath before breaking eye contact and looking away. Just as she always does.

One day, I’ll get what I want from her.

The rest of my day is spent doing tedious menial labor. I nearly slip up and kill Zakharov, which wouldn’t have been ideal. Thankfully, Ivan was there to stay my hand. If I had murdered him, I would have had a civil war on my hands on top of my fight with Igor. He’s still a respected member of the Bratva, after all.

When I return home I find Anastasia in the living room, watching a TV show. She looks comfortable, not at all like the hostage she keeps calling herself. As soon as she notices my presence however, she stiffens, sitting up on the couch.

“Hey, sweetheart. How was your day?”

“I need my cameras,” she informs me, bypassing a hello.

I arch an eyebrow. “I can get you new ones.”

“No,” she says fiercely. “I want my cameras from my apartment, and my laptop as well. There’s a lot of stuff on there that I can’t lose.”

“Fine. I’ll arrange a means for you to get it.”

Which will be difficult because by now I’m sure Igor’s got several men hanging around her apartment just waiting for her or anybody to return.

“Okay,” she says on a short nod. And then she peers at me. “How was your day? Kill anybody?”

“Unfortunately, no. I managed to hold myself back. Just barely, though,” I say lightly.

I can tell she’s unsure whether to believe me or not. She shrugs before leaning back down on the couch, dismissing me. I huff out an amused breath and head to my room to take a shower.

When I step out of the bathroom, it’s to my phone ringing. The call is coming from one of the guards watching the building.

“Yeah?” I say upon answering.

“Sir, Anthony Vasiliev is here and he’s demanding entry.”

My jaw clenches. Fucking great. “Let him up.”

No use delaying the inevitable. I put on some clothes before heading back outside my bedroom. Anastasia’s still on the couch, oblivious to her brother’s impending arrival. When the doorbell rings, though, she lifts her head in the direction of the door curiously.

I open the door, and my best friend glares at me in greeting.

“Hey, Ant,” I start, putting on an easy tone.

“Cut the shit. Where’s my sister?” he asks, pushing past me and heading into the house.

This is going to be fun…