Chapter 2

ILYA

A  groan is trapped in my throat as Volk, my right hand, towers before me. His narrowed gray eyes meet mine, white eyebrows slanting as he lifts off the weights, placing them on the racks.

“What is it?” I ask in Russian, even though I already know what he wants as my gaze lands on the folder in his hand.

“You should decide now, boss.”

“You pick.” I catch my breath, sitting on the bench. Sweat drenches every inch of my skin. My heart pounds inside my squeezed ribcage, with blood still roaring through my veins.

“I’m not the one marrying the woman, boss.” He hands me a towel. “And you’ve been ignoring this for months.”

I lift my gaze, glaring at him. “You’ve read the files. You know them more than I do. You know my type. Just fucking pick.”

“No.”

“No?” My jaw clenches. My nose flares as I stand up. Volk is taller than me, but I’m sure I can still take him down. I know his Achilles’ heel. My eyes narrow as I look right into his eyes. “What did you just say?”

“It’s not like that.” He frowns. “It’s your life. You’re marrying the woman and living with her for the rest of your life. At least read their files, meet them once, know them a little bit.”

“I don’t have fucking time for that.” I shove the towel against his chest and walk away.

“And boss.”

“What?” I grunt as I turn to him.

“The unknown number called your personal phone five times in one hour.”

“Unknown number?” I frown at him because I know who that number belongs to.

“Yes, boss.”

“Fuck him. He only calls if he wants something.” Despite what he did to me, a part of me is curious about the call because he doesn’t call if it’s not a life-and-death situation.

“He’s probably asking for another favor. Ignore him, and will eventually stop calling you. He’s a shameless fucking piece of shit.”

Before my father, Nikolae Vasilyev, died over a year ago, his last wish was for me to find someone, get married, and build a family so that I would have an heir when I die, and the Vasilyev bloodline would continue. It’s his dying wish that I want to fulfill, even though marriage is the last thing I want right now.

My life— the life of a Russian Bratva— the head of the Vasilyev Syndicate has no place for love, family, and kids where bullets fly and bombs explode.

But I’m keeping word, and I’m not getting any younger. I’m rich, and I have men to protect my family.

Even though my heart is not on board with this setup, I have to do my father’s last dying wish, and the future of the Vasilyev family lies in this marriage. And it’s time to put down roots.

I take a shower quickly and put on my t-shirt, jeans, and boots before I head to the stable where Maddox and the rest of my horses are waiting for me.

I’d been lying low in an undisclosed location in the US since I bought the property nearly three years ago.

I always dreamed of living in a farmhouse, waking up to roosters crowing in the morning, horseriding, and breathing fresh air.

It all comes true, but I still feel that something is missing— the emptiness in my chest is still there.

I take Maddox out of the stable. Then I saddle up and take him for a ride.

Volk knows not to follow me or suggest bringing protection. I’ve discussed this a thousand times, but I feel safer than ever.

I take the fragrant air into my lungs as I turn the bend on the path, showing off the stunning mountain range and pasture full of wildflowers. A herd of cows gathers about fifty yards away.

The clop of Maddox’s hooves is music to my ear as he gallops further away from the farmhouse. Horse riding takes me away from worries and issues outside the bubble I built for myself.

Just as the tree line comes into view, I notice two black Tahoe and a black G-Wagon waiting, as if telling me how reckless I’ve become and how predictable I am with my morning routines.

Maddox slows down as I get close to the uninvited guests on my property. I swing off the horse and take him under the tree.

“Stay here, buddy.” I pat his cheek and tie the rope to the branch.

Clenching my teeth, I take a deep breath because as much as I want to threaten them, I don’t have weapons with me.

But why did he come all the way here after what he did to me?

While walking in their direction, the G-wagon door opens. Gabe Linden, the Osmium owner and president, who has been making a lot of buzz lately, hops out.

For a sworn enemy, he has the nerve to show up. I give him that.

The last time I came face to face with him was three years ago when he threatened me— but his face has been flashing on the news lately.

I still expect him to be in his thousand-dollar sharp suit. He’s a billionaire, after all.

Not like this— in his crumpled white shirt, disheveled hair, and he looks like he hasn’t slept in days.

“You’re not accepting my calls.” That’s the first thing he says after he left me with threats. His voice is calm, but his features tell something different.

“I don’t work for you. I can fucking ignore your calls however I want. And you just trespassed on my property, Linden.” I steal a glance over his broad shoulders and see familiar faces— Osmium men in suits, stoic with eyes like hawks.

“I’m sure you know the issue I’m facing. That’s why I didn’t walk to your gate.”

“You’re under federal investigation, facing corporate espionage and involvement with organized crime, yet you’re here, discreetly meeting me.” I grit my teeth. “What do you want?”

He takes a deep, long, shuddering breath before meeting my gaze.

Silence stretches between us, and I feel like he’s struggling to gather his courage and swallow his rock-hard pride because I know him. He thinks he’s a righteous asshole who never begs for help from someone like me. And he hates me with every fiber of his being. That’s set in stone.

But right now, I feel like I’m winning something.