Chapter 19: Afanasy

Veronica's eyes widened in shock, her chest heaving as she watched me, disbelief etched on her face. She couldn't fathom how I suddenly became so cold toward her.

She blinked rapidly, wincing slightly at the pain of my grip squeezing her wrist. Her throat wobbled, her nose flaring in anguish as though my rejection was a physical blow.

I watched her face contort in agony and drain of color, leaving her skin pale and fragile-looking. Her body tensed, lips quivering as she fixed her eyes on me. I tightened my grip around her wrist, watching her eyes flash with pain and surprise.

Veronica used to think that I would never get tired of her; she could swear on her life that I couldn't go a week without a taste of her pussy. And she wasn't wrong to think that.

A whopping few months ago, things were very different between us. I used to love her company, and sex with her was always great. I fancied her as much as she did me, and we enjoyed fooling around a lot.

Veronica was the only woman I’d slept with more than a few times in a row. I often lost interest in the women I had sex with, almost immediately after having them in my bed.

It was clear that she must have been under the impression that I couldn't get enough of her. She must have thought that she was special to me or that I couldn't resist her charm.

She was wrong. She meant nothing to me.

Veronica's wrist strained in my hold as she attempted to pull away, wincing. “Afan, you're hurting me,” she mumbled, her gaze pinned on me.

“Don't you ever…” I leaned forward, my words spoken with deliberate slowness, “...try to touch me the way you just did, or I swear to God, you will lose your hand.” My tone was low and menacing, accentuating a deep scowl. “Do you understand?”

She nodded rapidly, her shoulders stiffening and lips pressing into a thin line as terror crept into her like a slow-rising tide. Veronica's eyelids fluttered as if trying to shut out the fear etched across her features.

I let go of her, and she stumbled backward, her fingers rubbing over her wrist. My rejection had bruised her ego, and the effect was terrible because she wasn't anticipating such a hostile reaction from me.

“What did I do to deserve this?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Tell me, and I swear, I'll make it right—I'll do anything…” she added, her tone laced with desperation.

“Enough, Veronica,” I cut her off, my brows narrowing, mirroring my irritation at her words. “Just stay away from me…” I drew closer, “because if you don't, I will make you wish you were dead,” I spat, my warning venomous.

Threatening Veronica was the only way to keep her off my back. She was an impulsive woman who wouldn't mind going the lengths just to make sure no other woman had me. The mere thought of her going after Wren made my blood boil, hence the reason for my seriousness.

She knew I wasn't a man to be messed with. I'd end her life in a heartbeat if it came down to it.

I could see the horror in her eyes, and that should be enough to keep her far away from me and my household. It was time I took my family seriously, and the first step to doing that was by cutting off the likes of Veronica.

Taking a final drag of my cigarette, I puffed the smoke, tossed the stick away, and left her standing there, alone. Veronica wasn't used to being rejected by men, so this was going to hurt her real bad.

I returned to the party, enveloped by the soft glows of the chandeliers and the hushed conversations of the guests. My eyes scanned the expansive space after I couldn't find my wife or Julia.

Maybe the two women had decided to take a walk outside and catch up on old times. Clearly, it had been ages since they last saw each other, and there was more than enough to discuss. I hadn't wrapped my head around the coincidence of them being good friends, anyway.

I was looking for Wren, but then I found Alexei instead. He stood with a group of men, talking, engrossed in what seemed to be a casual conversation.

He jerked his head in my direction and excused himself from the group.

“There you are,” I said, tucking a hand in my pocket as he approached me. “I've been waiting for you back on the balcony. You were supposed to return after your phone call.”

“I was, yes, and I would have, but I didn't wanna ruin the moment,” he replied, halting in front of me, eyes crinkling at the corners as a mischievous grin spread across his face.

My brows knitted together, puzzled. “Ruin what moment? I was only straightening Veronica out.”

“Veronica?” He squinted and pushed his head back, surprise flickering in his gaze. “I was talking about Wren.”

My eyebrows arched at the revelation. “Wren…. What're you talking about?”

“What do you mean, what am I talking about? I thought she was with you; that's why I didn't bother returning,” he said, his tone laced with suspicion at the glaring shock on my face.

“Why would you think she was me?” I tilted my head, anticipating his response.

“Because I saw her going in your direction,” he explained, his eyes never leaving mine until a group of men called out for him.

“Excuse me, cousin, I'll be right back,” he said, tapping my shoulder as he dematerialized.

My eyes narrowed, my mind flooded with a myriad of thoughts, but one possibility stood out: Wren might have seen me and Veronica.

Shit!

I didn't do anything with that seductress, but I could only imagine how it must have looked from my wife's point of view. Veronica had been too close to me and, at some point, had her hands all over me. What if Wren had witnessed that?

Fuck. She'd probably be thinking that I didn't care about her or that I was having an affair with Veronica. The need to explain myself over a misconception was alien to me, and I hated the way my heart was racing in my chest.

I couldn't stomach the thought of her having the wrong notion about what she may or may not have seen. There was a perfectly reasonable explanation for what happened, and I was willing to set the record straight.

But first, I had to find her.

I walked through the crowd, my sharp eyes scanning the space until I spotted the behind of a woman in a red gown with dark, wavy hair. However, as I approached her with a quickened pace, she turned, smiling at a friend, and immediately, I stopped in my tracks, shoulders slumping in disappointment.

It wasn't her. The woman was dressed like her and looked like her from the back, but it wasn't her.

I dug my hand into my pocket and withdrew my phone, dialing her number. My jaw clenched when my call went straight to voicemail. Her phone's battery shouldn't be dead, so why was it switched off?

Now, I was starting to worry, and with good reason—she wasn't at the party, and her phone was dead, which was odd. My chest grew heavier with each passing moment, my mind flooding with negative thoughts, all of which I struggled to dispel.

I called Yakov's phone as I headed outside. Maybe she went out for some fresh air, and I'd need all hands on deck in order to find her quicker.

“Boss,” he answered on the other line.

“Gather the men. Tell them to find my wife. She's not in the building. Have them search the entire compound,” I instructed, my tone dripping with urgency as I stepped outside, my eyes looking around for any sign of her.

“Understood,” he said. “But Boss, there's something you need to see.”

I spotted him standing beside his car with a few of my men around him. “Get the men to work. I'm coming to you.” I hung up the phone.

As I descended the long steps at the entrance of the building, I watched him give the order, his hands flying around, showing them what grounds to cover.

“Boss,” he greeted as I halted in front of him. “The men are out looking for her. As long as she's in the compound, they'll find her.”

The statement didn't sit right with me, but I wouldn't let negativity sink in.

“What is it you wanted to show me?” I asked, hoping to at least distract my mind while the men searched for her.

He revealed his iPad, showing me footage of a man walking into the building, clad in a black suit. My brows knitted as I recognized him. It was Kolya, the idiot who had stolen from me. He still had the scar on his face—courtesy of Afanasy Tarasov.

I knew scarring him for life was a great punishment, considering how much he adored his handsome face.

But what the hell was he doing here? He was supposed to be far away from the city, and why was he scanning the surroundings like he was about to…?

My breath caught in my throat as the realization kicked in. He wouldn't dare.

I clenched my jaw.

“If Kolya is here, that means he's up to no good,” Yakov said, looking at me, probably thinking, I told you we should've killed the bastard.

“Where's he now?” I asked through gritted teeth.

He swiped his finger across the screen, skipping to the next footage. “CCTV caught his car exiting the compound about ten minutes ago.”

Dang it! That was around the same time that I was with Veronica, around the same time that Alexei said he'd seen Wren going in my direction.

It was no coincidence that my wife was missing on the same night Kolya stepped foot into the building. Why would he come around, only to leave within ten minutes?

“Boss, you don't think he…?” Yakov's words paused mid-statement, his eyes lingering on me. “Surely, he's not that stupid.” He frowned at the possibility of Kolya's involvement in Wren's vanishing.

“Get in the car, now!” I instructed, rushing toward the vehicle.

I yanked the door open and slid into the front passenger seat. Seconds later, Yakov grabbed the wheel, giving orders through the walkie-talkie, instructing the men to get in the vehicles and follow us.

“Track that bastard's car,” I spat, my blood boiling with rage and fingers clenching into fists. “I want him found.”

Yakov started the engine and zoomed out of the compound.

My jaw tightened as I struggled to stay calm, seeking solace in the torment I'd inflict on that ungrateful son of a bitch.

How dare he go after my wife—my wife?!

He was definitely going to pay, and this time, he would pay for it with his life. I would make sure of that.

Stealing from me was one thing; kidnapping my wife, on the other hand, was an entirely different offense, one punishable by death.

I wouldn't spare his life this time. He'd crossed the line, and he would dance to the tune of the music.

My chest swelled with rage, my mind cooking up ways to make him suffer before sending him on a one-way trip to hell.