Chapter 7: Afanasy

“What's the update on the project, brother?” Roman's voice resonated from the phone resting on the dashboard console.

I glanced at the lit screen before returning my gaze back to the road. “A hundred percent compliance from our debtors,” I replied, gently swerving the car down a street. “Well, 99.99, if I'm being honest. There's an idiot on the run, but I'll get him,” I added, my brows furrowing at the fact that Harrison Everett was still at large.

“I trust that you will, brother,” he said, his tone dripping with confidence. “Your name is spreading like wildfire amongst our associates and business partners.” He let out a chuckle, pride lacing his tone. “Everyone seems to be falling back in line, thanks to the hell you've raised in the city.”

“Well, what can I say?” My lips curled into a sly smirk. “They played with fire. It was only logical that they got burned.”

“The level of compliance from our debtors is remarkable,” he said, his tone smooth as honey, each word laced with satisfaction.

My eyes crinkled at the corners as I absorbed the praise he showered me with.

Roman continued, “I checked in with the account two hours ago, and I must commend you for a job well done in such a short period of time. I'm impressed, brother. As is Pakhan Artem.”

My heart warmed with subtle humility, a faint grin spreading across my face. His acknowledgment left me feeling honored, and his appreciation filled me with gratitude. It meant a lot coming from a calculated and principled man like Roman.

Roman's dedication to the Bratva was something I could never match, hence why I was deeply moved by his validation.

Once upon a time, I wasn't as invested in the Bratva cause as I was now. I used to wish that I could escape this life—trade it with something else, something a lot more…mundane.

But as I grew older, I came to the conclusion that this was my life, my everything, and Roman made sure of that. He made sure that I stayed the course and remained focused.

Even though I never told him this, I owed a lot of my achievements today to him.

Roman wasn't just my older brother. He was also my mentor, a man whose words were always so reasonable and practically hard to ignore. I'd learned a million things from this man. Maybe I should thank him more often.

“I’m touched by your gratitude, brother—and I'm not being sarcastic right now,” came my reply. “Thank you.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Afanasy?” Roman's voice came through the phone's speakers, dripping with shock and disbelief.

I rarely said those words to him—in fact, I didn't think I'd ever said those words to him before, so his surprise was expected. I could only imagine the look on his face right now, and I'd take a picture if I were in the same room with him.

“You know what, I think I'll take it back.” I cackled, navigating another turn.

I heard him laugh on the other line, and in the background, there was the adorable voice of a little girl filled with excitement: his daughter, Yelena.

My face lit up with a smile. “Is that my favorite niece?”

“Uncle Afan!” Her exhilaration boomed through my phone.

“Hey, pumpkin!” I replied with the same tone, my energy nearly matching hers. “How's it going?”

“Yelena, stop making trouble!” Julia warned.

My heart warmed at the sound of Yelena's shriek and giggles as she protested, her footsteps creating gentle thuds against the floor.

I assumed her mother, Julia, ever the disciplinarian, was chasing her around.

“Come back here, you little devil!” Julia's playful tone confirmed my assumption.

“Hi, Afanasy. Bye, Afanasy,” Julia said, now a lot more audible, as though she was closer to the phone. “Sorry, honey. Please continue.” Her tone dropped to a hushed whisper, her words directed at her husband.

As Julia's footsteps receded, Yelena's squeals of protest grew fainter, and soon, I heard the door shut.

I still couldn't fathom how my brother, Roman, had managed to secure this much peace and comfort in his life. Not that he didn't deserve it; he did. But the circumstances behind his newfound bliss were rather fascinating.

Decades ago, Roman had suffered a loss that forced him to turn colder than Arctic water. The man had ice in his veins with a dead conscience that harbored no emotions whatsoever.

Yet, he’d found love at last, in the unlikeliest of ways. It was interesting how Julia had slipped into his life, thawing his stone-cold heart.

“You know, two years ago,” I began, my eyes momentarily darting to the phone's screen, “if someone had told me that you'd be happily married by now, I'd have doubted it.”

Roman laughed lightly. “It’s not so bad, you know. You should try it.”

“You make it sound like you're advertising a cookie.” I chuckled softly, fingers combing through my hair.

“I'm serious, brother,” Roman said, his voice tinged with a hint of austerity. “At this point in your life, you need a wife. It's high time you found one and settled down, don't you think?”

“You sound like Uncle Ivan right now,” I remarked, my lips curling into a smile.

“Well, if he was alive, he'd tell you the same thing,” Roman replied, not losing any of the seriousness.

He was right.

I was 39 already and would be turning forty soon. The thought of settling had crossed my mind more than a few times, especially after seeing how happy and fulfilled my brother was.

My cousin, Kostya, had a good thing going on with his wife, Madelyn, as did Pakhan Artem with his own wife, Sierra.

I admired these men and how they adored their wives, but I just hadn't found a suitable woman yet.

My mind flashed back to the petite baby-faced brunette in my guest room. I didn't realize a smile had perched on my lips at the thought of her until I caught my reflection in the rearview mirror.

The automated gates parted, and I drove into the compound.

“Thank you, brother. I'll think about it,” I said, respectfully dismissive.

“Yeah, you do that.”

“I will.”

I hung up the phone.

As I pulled over, the sound of gravel crunching beneath my tires filled the air. I killed the engine, unlocked the door, and stepped out of the car.

I'd come home earlier today because, according to Olga, my chef, Wren would always come downstairs at this time of the day to have her daily ration.

Usually, I'd still be at the office working by now, but I needed to have a word with my little prisoner.

The corners of my mouth curled into a sly smirk, recalling the incident she’d witnessed yesterday.

I climbed the long steps at the entrance, then pushed the front door open and walked in.

With a hand in my pocket, I glided through the opulent living room, and as I approached the dinner table, I locked eyes with her.

Wren, in a nice flowered dress, stood frozen at the base of the stairs, her breath lodged in her throat. Shock flickered in her gaze, her grip on the polished handrail tightening as she swallowed, her throat bobbing.

It was exactly the look I was hoping to catch on her face, and it was priceless. She hadn't seen me for days and wasn't expecting my return.

“You look like you've seen a ghost,” I said, stepping forward, my gaze unwavering.

She blinked a few times, her chest heaving subtly. She raised her left foot above a step as if ready to race back up the stairs.

“Ah-ah-ah.” I wagged my finger in warning. “Don't even think about it.”

She stared at me, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and anxiety, and lowered her foot.

I nodded toward the dining table. “You were about to eat, weren't you?”

She wouldn't speak, nor would she break eye contact.

“Go on,” I beseeched, gesturing toward the table. “Take a seat.”

She hesitated for a moment, her frame rigid with tension. However, as the silence between us lengthened and my expression softened, I watched her shoulders relax subtly. Her breathing slowed, and her heaving chest steadied as she whispered a quiet sigh as if releasing her tension.

With eyes still locked on mine, she stepped forward, her feet gliding across the fine marble floor. Wren pulled out a chair and sat on it.

I walked over to the table and settled into a seat across from her, unable to hide my small smile.

Like fragments of shattered glass, her composure slowly reassembled, even though she avoided my eyes. Wren had her gaze fixed on the silverware in front of her.

She looked thinner. Her jawline seemed a little sharper, her collarbones slightly more pronounced.

But regardless, her beauty still blossomed like a garden in full bloom. Her porcelain skin simmered in the soft glow of the hanging chandelier, as did her dark, wavy hair.

I caught a glimpse of her face reflected in the polished silverware on the table as she ate in silence. “I'm told you eat once a day.” My gaze wouldn't leave her face.

The savory, sweet, and smoky aroma of perfectly cooked bacon wafted through the air, invading my senses. Olga had once again outdone herself.

“You should eat more times a day.” I leaned into the chair. “You're losing weight.”

She paused, her hand hovering mid-air, the smoky bacon slice suspended inches from her pursed lips. Her brows knitted together in a mild warning as she shot a subtle glare at me. Her eyes flashed with irritation, eyelids narrowing ever so slightly.

Yep. I’d struck a nerve.

My brows arched at her audacity to wear a stern expression before me, but clearly, she was starting to loosen up a little.

She ignored me and returned to quietly eating her meal.

A faint grin spread across my face as I leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “Curiosity is not a sin, Wren.” I pinned my gaze on her. “But it kills the cat.”

She lowered her slice of bacon, eyes dropping to the floor as she chewed slower.

“You liked what you saw, didn't you?” I questioned, my voice a hushed whisper.

Anxiety washed over her again, and her chest resumed its slow heaves, her eyes blinking rapidly as she avoided my gaze. Her breath seemed to cease as she withdrew her hands from the table, placing them on her lap.

“You did. Admit it.” I edged closer without taking my eyes off her, wearing a corny smirk.

Her lips twitched as she stuttered. “I— I don't know what you're talking about.” She cleared her throat, adjusting in her chair.

“Really?” My brows rose, my intense gaze lingering. “So, you weren't the one outside my door yesterday,” my eyes narrowed, “watching me fuck.”

She went silent for a moment, her chest rising and falling, hinting at her nervousness. Finally, she found her voice. “I…I really liked the music,” she said quietly, fingers tugging at the hem of her dress.

“I bet you did.” I chuckled, making a subtle reference to the other sound in the room—intoxicating moans.

She still couldn't look me in the eyes, and her body was tensing discreetly. Her cheeks flushed, fingers flying to her mouth as she chewed on her nails.

I watched her jaw clench, her feet fidgeting as her eyes darted across the floor.

Her nervousness was beyond being embarrassed for getting caught watching live porn. There was something else— something she was trying so hard to hide—hence the reason she'd been avoiding my eyes.

I'd known from day one that Wren was innocent, but watching her reaction now, I concluded that her innocence ran deeper than I'd thought.

My brows arched in amusement. “You're a virgin, aren't you?”

She jerked her head, eyes narrowing as her brows drew together, accentuating the scowl on her cute baby face.

This defensive reaction was the confirmation that I needed.

“Yeah….” I nodded subtly, retaining the smile on my face. “Yeah, you are.”

“That's none of your business.” Her frown deepened, her voice laced with a hint of frost.

Wren's chest rose and fell, her fiery eyes boring into mine with a newfound bravery.

Impressive.

I didn't think she had it in her to be feisty, and her spunk was rather entertaining. Perhaps I'd get on her nerves more often.

“Virgin by choice or circumstance?” My eyes squinted as I reclined in my chair, my tone carrying a hint of mockery.

Her jaw tightened, brows arching at the bluntness of my question. “Are you trying to get under my skin?” Her eyes flashed with vexation.

I raised an eyebrow, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Sweetheart, if I wanted to get under something, it wouldn't be your skin.” My lips curled into a smirk, my tone hinting at the hidden message.

Her eyes widened, realizing the true meaning of my words, and soon, she tore her gaze off me, her body tensing. Wren shifted uncomfortably, and her words trailed off as she rose to her feet, muttering, “Please, excuse me.” She turned and left the table.

Seeing her riled up brought me some sense of satisfaction, and I let out a soft scoff, watching her ascend the stairs.