Chapter 9 - Rodion

She is driving me crazy and I think she knows it now. It’s like she is doing it on purpose at this point and I can only assume it is because I walked away from her the last time we were almost intimate. Now she wants to punish me for that.

Even though that was her fault. She didn’t even want me, not really. It was too obvious, and I don’t want it to be like that between us.

But, for some reason, she wants to taunt me about it by flaunting her gorgeous curves at me every chance she gets.

It’s turning me on and it’s making it almost impossible for me to think around the house. I have to avoid her if I want to get any work done, but today is the day I am taking her on a tour of my one of my business operations. Being in her presence like this all day will be a challenge, but I told her I would teach her, so I will keep my word.

She wants to learn, and I am more than happy to teach her.

I’m not surprised at all that her brothers didn’t want to show her anything. I get it, they were trying to keep her safe. I made the same mistake with my own sisters, but it didn’t help.

Shielding her is not the right way to go about it, though. I tried to shield my own sisters in the beginning and later on realized it wasn’t fair of me. Now I know better. The more aware Anya is of what we do, and what our enemies are capable of, the more aware she will be of any dangers—and she can become better equipped to keep herself safe if she needs to.

Being blindsided because of naivety is not an option.

Lack of awareness is dangerous. I don’t want that for my wife.

We pull up outside the warehouse and I switch the engine off as I turn towards her.

Anya looks a mix of nervous and excited. She appears eager to get inside.

“It’s a bit rough in there,” I warn her, worried that it will be too much for her. I know she’s had some past experiences, including being kidnapped, but that doesn’t mean she will be able to handle this. I just want to keep her safe.

“Alright,” she shrugs, not worried in the least. “Let’s get going.”

She pushes the car door open and I hurry to follow her as she strides towards the entrance. I take her hand to stop her from walking in before me.

“Stay close, ok?” I say sternly. “This isn’t a playground. Other people aren’t going to be focused on you, they are paying attention to what they are doing, so you need to be careful where you walk.”

She rolls her eyes but does as I say and steps closer to me.

Walking inside, a loud clang of heavy machinery fills the air. Men are shouting instructions to each other across the massive floor space.

They look grimy, some covered in grease, some covered in general dirt, but all hard at work carrying and packing and sorting products of all kinds.

Anya doesn’t even flinch as we walk through the noisy, steel-clad environment. Someone pushes a metal trolly right across our path and I swear at him, telling him to look where he’s going. He turns to chirp back and then sees it’s me.

“Shit, sir, I’m so sorry. I was rushing. The one box of goods came in late and I want to get it—“

“Go, it's fine. Carry on,” I huff and wave my hand to chase him on his way.

Glancing at Anya, she doesn’t look the least bothered by what happened. Her eyes are bright and wide with curiosity.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to the foreman.” I lead her towards a slightly quieter section of the warehouse.

I take her hand in mine because she’s so curious about everything. She’s looking around and I don’t get the sense that she is paying attention to where she is going.

“Nathan!” I shout over the noise, getting the foreman’s attention.

“Rodion, give me a second. I’ll be right with you!” he shouts back, squatting down next to some boxes to scan something on the label.

He stands up, hands out a few instructions to the men around him, and then walks over to us with a broad smile.

“Hello, hello. Is this your lovely wife we’ve heard so much about?” he holds his hand out to Anya, then realizes how dirty it is and wipes it down his pants a few times before trying again. She laughs and shakes his hand enthusiastically.

“Hello,” she says with a big smile.

“Anya, this is Nathan. He pretty much runs this place when I’m not around.”

“That’s great,” she replies. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m showing her around because she wants to learn about what we do.”

“A curious mind is a healthy mind,” Nathan says, then we hear his name being called from across the warehouse and he excuses himself.

“Sorry, it’s chaos here today. I’ve got to go.”

“Get back to it. We won’t keep you,” I nod.

For an hour Anya and I walk around and chat to the workers, watching them do various tasks while Anya asks plenty of questions. It impresses me that she reacts exactly the same to a guy in filthy overalls as she does to a guy in a suit. There is no discrimination in her interaction or curiosity about the roles they play.

She gets on with everyone and treats them all with the same amount of respect.

Spending the day with her like this has changed my perspective with regards to her ‘spoiled brat’ nature and I realize that she was only appearing to be that way because she didn’t have a chance to be anything else. Or perhaps it's because I never had a chance to see her in a different environment. It reminds me that I have a lot to still learn about who she is. I don’t really know her at all.

When I tell her it’s time to go because I need to get home to deal with some new orders that came in, she is disappointed. At home, she sits with me while I go through the emails and how clients place orders using certain code words. She is fascinated by everything.

After our first visit to that business venue goes well, I start taking her to others whenever I have to make a stop in at one of them.

She’s learning a lot and then when we get home, at dinner time, she asks me even more questions. I find it really cute but also impressive. She catches on quickly and remembers information easily. She knows the names of most of the workers and remembers their roles. Anya is much smarter than I thought she was when I first met her. But then again, I knew she was special, so I shouldn’t be surprised.

It’s late Saturday morning and I just got a call that I have to go into one of the warehouses because there was an issue. It wasn’t too clear what was going on, but it sounded like a dispute between two of the workers. Something annoying and time wasting, but I need to deal with it nonetheless.

“Anya, do you want to join me? I’m headed to the warehouse by the docks,” I shout up the stairs towards her.

“Definitely,” she calls out. “I’ll be ready in five minutes.”

We arrive and there appears to be a lot of commotion coming from inside. “What the hell?” I groan, hurrying into the warehouse. Anya sticks close to me as she knows she has to.

Walking into the space, there is a heated shout of anger and the thunderously loud snap of a gunshot. The steel door next to us cracks at the impact of the bullet and several people duck to the floor.

I spin, pulling Anya protectively against my body. Chaos erupts around us as workers begin running in all directions.

Looking up over the panicked crowd, I see two workers wrestle another one to the ground and kick a gun away from him.

“Fucking, Frankie,” I snarl in anger. It’s the second time he’s lost his temper and put other people in danger. Last time, he didn’t have a gun, though—so this has definitely escalated.

Looking down at Anya, her eyes are wide with shock and her whole body is shaking.

“Anya, are you ok?” I ask, but she doesn’t seem to hear me. “Anya!” I shout her name, grabbing her chin and forcing her eyes onto me.

“Are you ok?” I ask again.

She blinks, hesitating for a second and then nods. “Yes, I’m alright.” Reaching up, she unconsciously runs her hand over her arm and her fingers come back red, coated with blood. My heart sinks.

Her eyes go wide again.

Fear slams into me, and for a moment, I can’t breathe.

“Were you shot?” I stammer, pulling her sleeve up over her shoulder.

I breathe out a heavy sigh of relief. It’s a graze. But the thought of what might have happened if the bullet had been a few inches in a different direction suddenly floods me with rage.

I turn and run at the guy who fired the shot. I should never have let Frankie get away with his shitty behavior the first time—and now he almost murdered my wife.

Grabbing his collar, I rip him off the ground where his coworkers have pinned him down, trying to force him to cool off, and I slam my fist into his face. His nose cracks and he screams in pain.

I’m shouting, angry, demanding to know what the fuck he was thinking, firing guns inside my warehouse. I keep punching him in the face and he’s trying to fight back, but he doesn’t stand a chance against me. I’m too angry. He’s pushed me too far.

Behind me, I hear Anya’s voice, pleading for me to stop. It’s the only thing that I can hear over my anger.

“Rodion, stop, you’re going to kill him—please stop,” she cries out.

The other workers are trying to pull me off the guy, their hands tugging at my arms and their shouts of panic getting louder.

Slowly, my uncontrolled rage fades and I hear the voice of reason pulling me back into myself.

I drop him to the floor, and he lands hard on his knees, clutching his broken nose, choking on thick, wet rivers of his own blood.

He spits up a puddle of red and gasps for air.

“Get him sorted out,” I snarl, glaring at him. “And I never want to see him again.”

Two men drag him to his feet and away from me. I might have killed him if Anya hadn’t begged me to stop. I shake my head and run my hand through my hair, trying to force myself to calm down.

Anya grabs my arm and when I turn to face her, she immediately wraps her arms around my waist, hugging me so tightly that for a long moment, I feel confused. She has never done anything like this before.

It freezes me, but then I wrap my arms around her body and hold her, talking to her gently.

Her body is still shaking a little and I realize that she is in shock. Even though her wound is minimal, she is not used to this type of thing at all. Including my violent outburst.

“I’m so sorry, princess. Are you ok? I’m sorry, I got angry, I got a huge fright. It could have been—you could have—“ I sigh, forcing myself to slow down and take a moment to clear my head. Everything is ok. Anya is ok.

Shit like this isn’t exactly uncommon working in an environment like this—but the idea of Anya being seriously hurt was too much.

She looks up at me. Those gorgeous eyes of hers are bright with concern and flooded with emotion. “My arm hurts,” she says, a slight smile spreading across her face. “Do you maybe have a medical aid kit here?”

“No, we will take you to the doctor right away,” I say sternly.

“Don’t be silly. It’s just a small graze. But I need you to help me disinfect it and stop the bleeding. This was one of my favorite tops.”

She laughs and the sound runs through me like summer rain. It pushes the last of the anger away. I hug her tightly against me, kiss the top of her head, then take her hand and lead her towards the office.