Chapter 7

ILYA

“What the fuck are you doing here, Natalie?” I growl in anger.

Instead of answering me, she kisses me to shut me up. I let her. I don’t want to argue because I’d been ignoring her calls while she was in New York, handling matters.

Natalie is one of my lawyers. She’s good at what she does. We hooked up once in a while, and she’s a good lay, too, but she knows there’s no us and there will never be us. And she’s okay with it. No complications. No emotional entanglements.

I barely slept last night with another sexual dream, fucking Wila in the barn, while fully aware that she was just sleeping across the hallway. But I’m still hurt, and I do hold grudges.

I haven’t forgiven myself for believing that we could be together despite who her brother was to me.

When Natalie starts touching me and going down on her knees to suck me, I fuck her in the barn, and she’s too willing, too eager to roll in the hay, literally and figuratively.

Once she has her orgasm, and I come, I take off the condom and throw it into the trash bin.

“You’re a good lay, Ilya, but something’s bothering you.” She follows me, fixing her clothes.

I pick up her cowboy hat on the ground and give it to her. “Don’t come again without my approval.”

“Well, apologies. I didn’t know I would find you here, narky but willing to fuck me.” Her British accent thickens. “Don’t worry now. Go on, don’t stop being an arse on my account. I brought the documents with me, and I want you to read and sign so that I can leave right away.”

“I will.” I breathe deeply, tucking some strands behind my ear.

She’s frowning when she meets my gaze. “Whatever is going on with you, know that you have a friend. I will never betray you, Ilya. I know you’re getting married, and I’d be happy for you, as long as the woman you choose is not gonna break your heart the same way your ex did. Just be careful. Not everyone is what they seem to be, and with good intentions.” She walks away and laughs. “That was fun.”

I shake my head in annoyance as I button the flies of my jeans. My phone buzzes on the ground. When I pick it up, Lara is calling.

“Shit.” I missed her call last night, and I haven’t returned it because I know she’s already at school, and the time zone sucks for both of us.

I answer it. “Hey.”

“You didn’t pick up my call.” I can see her glaring, pouting at me.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“No, you’re not. I don’t know what’s keeping you busy. It’s not like you work eight hours every day, seven days a week.”

I smile. “I’m really sorry. I was busy yesterday, and I have a guest.” I can’t tell her it’s Willa because Lara doesn’t like her. She’s overprotective of me, and I can’t blame her because she’d seen me at my worst.

Lara Annastasia is my half-sister. My father told me about her when her mother got into a car accident in the UK and died on the spot. She was only nine years old at that time and had no family left to take care of her.

When I went to London to pick up a kid, I never thought I’d be happy to have a little sister. It was love at first sight. No questions asked if she was really my blood— she got my father’s eyes, the same shade as mine.

She was heartbroken and barely talked throughout the fight.

My father did everything to protect her from the dangerous world we lived in. I sent her to Serevia. There, she’s safe. She has no connection with the Bratva or the Vasilyev. In fact, she’s a Jones, her mother’s surname. But Linden still found out about her and used it against me.

When Linden threatened to expose her if I wouldn’t leave Willa, that wasn’t a question of whether to protect her or to break my heart.

Before my father died, I promised him he didn’t have to worry about Lara because, just like how he felt, she’s the only good and decent thing in my life.

 “Poor excuse, brat.”

I chuckle. “Is that the only word you know?”

“Oh, I learned a lot.”

“Not curses, Lara, or I’d be so pissed at you.”

“Fine. Apology accepted.”

“I’ll bring the entire mountain to you if I could, Lara. I have to go. I love you. Bye.” I hang up the call, and I don’t realize Willa is down the patio, looking so beautiful even with bruises all over her face.

I reviewed the file Linden gave me yesterday. Whoever attacked her wanted her dead. He was hurt, but there’s no report of death with a stick in the neck. So, he may have survived, and I’d be glad to take his life, slowly and painfully, when I find him— he would wish he’d died that night.

When I see the Vasilyev signet ring I gave her, I just lose it.

I may be hard on her, and she’s still hurt. Her bruises and wounds haven’t healed yet, but why hasn’t she thrown that shit away?

Grimacing, she stands up. “I’m sorry.”

My nose flares. “For what? For that?” I point at the ring. “Or for making me look like a fool? You’re here, Willa, because this is a business transaction. Your brother paid me ten million dollars to keep you safe. Nothing more. Nothing less.” I just lied to her face, and I’m not even sorry for that.

Tears instantly welled in her eyes. Her face leached of color. “I know you’re not doing this for the goodness of your heart.”

“I don’t have a heart to begin with.” Hysterical laughter bubbles up my throat. “Isn’t that what your brother told you about me?”

“I’m so sorry, Ree—”

“Don’t fucking call me that. Your brother calls me Ilya Vasilyev. The notorious, most wanted criminal pakhan of the Vasilyev Syndicate. That’s me. A Russian mafia.” I brace myself for a new horror. “And I told you who I was, so there’s no reason to pretend right now.”

But Andrey interrupts. “Boss—”

A single finger I hold up is all it takes to shut him up.

“I know what I did is wrong.” Her chin trembles. “I did it to protect you.”

I laugh sarcastically. I know I’m hurting her, but I’ve bottled up the anger for so long. One of these days, it will eventually explode. What she did to me was worse than breaking my heart.  

“I’m sorry.” She wipes her tears, sniffing.

“It’s fine, Willa. It doesn’t hurt that much anymore, but it was your betrayal that hurt the most. And recently, I understood why it happened. We can’t be together. What we have is like a fucking nuclear bomb that will destroy everything around us. But don’t expect me to forget what you did to me and still hold hands together and sing Kumbaya after.”

“I know you hate me—”

I smirk. “I don’t hate you. You misunderstood me, Willa. If I hate you, you’re dead.”

She nods, tears rolling down her cheeks. My heart hurts seeing her so vulnerable, suffering in tremendous pain because of her brother’s recklessness, but I fight the urge to pull her into my arms and give her the idea that the pain she caused me is over, or that the wound in my heart is patched and healed.

She’s maybe the only person who looks at me differently, not the criminal that I am, and she may be the only person who makes me feel alive, teaches me what real love is, and can break the shell that protected my heart for so long, but I’m not falling for her bullshit again.

Whatever she did to protect me is just her way to make herself feel better. She threw me under the bus, and I don’t know why it still affects me.

I’ve dodged and taken bullets, stabbed with knives. I’ve faced the worst enemies and people in this lifetime, but I’m still here, standing, stronger, and feared.

So, whatever she’s trying to convince me of, or herself, doesn’t work for me anymore.

“I’m going upstairs.” She grimaced, holding her abdomen.

I watch her trudge inside the house until I remember something. “Hey.”

She freezes, turning her head slowly to me. “Yeah?”

I smile. “You’re invited to my wedding. You can bring a plus-one.”