The Don Is A Liar…

Vanya

I had heard the stories.

Ivan Petrov was a ruthless man, a monster every soul in Moscow feared.

A man who walks in secret, kills without mercy, the world believes he’s crippled while he tightens his grip on Moscow’s underworld.

No one dared to cross him, not even now, when he lost the ability to walk. I could not understand it. How does a man command so much fear in the hearts of people?

I stared out the car’s window as the wind blew against my face, as though consoling me for whatever lay ahead of me.

What would Ivan think of me?

How would he receive me?

So many questions ran through my mind as my thoughts collided with one another. Yet the answers remained out of reach.

His name alone was enough to make grown men cower.

Even my own father never spoke ill of him.

And now I stood on the marble floors of the Petrov estate, my eyes wide at the sheer size of it.

Everything was more grand, and definitely more expensive than anything I had ever seen in our house.

“Don’t you dare embarrass me, Vanya,” my father muttered beside me. He took a step closer, and I held my breath as he brushed invisible dust from my shoulder.

“You know the consequences if you do. Put on your best behavior. And don’t you dare act like you’re unwilling.”

My throat tightened. Who said I was willing?

I felt suffocated. I would choose to be anywhere else in the world just to escape this fate. To escape belonging to a man like him.

“Anastasia Petrov will be here soon.” Father’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts again. “I need not remind you that she tolerates no nonsense. This is important, for all of us. Do you understand?”

I tried to sign anyway.

But Father’s face hardened instantly.

“He doesn’t love me. He hasn’t even seen me before,” my hands flew desperately.

“How will he react when he finds out I can’t talk? I heard he doesn’t keep women long. He sleeps with them and discards them. How can you expect me to belong to a man like that?”

My father’s laugh was low and ugly as he began circling me slowly. “Tell me, who else would want to marry a mute girl like you?”

“You should be grateful that the Don is even willing to accept you. I don’t care if you end up as his slut or his fucktoy. As long as the money flows into my account and you live well in this big house, everything else is useless.” He paused, eyes gleaming with anticipation. “After all, you’re doing this for your brother Arman too.”

That worthless piece of shit, I thought bitterly. The curse burned silent behind my teeth. The pain from Father’s words hit the most vulnerable part of my soul.

I wanted to scream. The urge clawed at my throat, but no sound would ever come.

So I swallowed it down, hands already lifting to sign again, until a sharp voice cut through the grand hall.

“Antonio.”

A woman in her forties descended the sweeping staircase, her blonde hair pulled into a severe bun, her gown hugging every curve of her hourglass-shaped body. Confidence rolled off her with ease.

My father, the puppet he truly was, rushed forward, his hand already outstretched for a handshake.

My throat tightened.

The woman who I presumed was “Anastasia” merely stopped him with a single raised palm.

I watched him swallow his pride like bitter medicine.

“I brought my daughter, Anastasia, just as we agreed,” he started.

“I can see that.” Her tone was cold. “But I’m wondering why you felt the need to be so harsh with her in my house? I told you clearly, if you’re presenting her to Ivan, she must look flawless. Ivan hates anything messy or broken. He hasn’t approved the proposal yet, so she needs to be in perfect shape…”

Her sharp gaze finally landed on me.

She walked closer and stopped right in front of me.

“Why does she look this thin?” Her eyes raked over me with open disgust, taking in my cheap dress, my hollow cheeks, my trembling frame. “What’s your name?”

My hands lifted, ready to sign…

“Her name is Vanya,” my father answered quickly. “I already told you that, Anastasia.”

“I didn’t ask you, Antonio. She can answer for herself.”

My father cleared his throat, voice turning oily. “The thing is… she can’t speak yet. She’s still traumatized by her mother’s death. But I assure you, she’ll speak eventually. Just give her time.”

Anastasia’s eyes narrowed. “First, you bring her here in this cheap, ragged dress that looks like it belongs in the trash. She smells awful. And now you tell me she’s mute?”

She clenched her jaw as if barely tolerating my father’s pathetic mistake. “You brought me a mute girl?”

“You’d better pray Ivan tolerates her,” she hissed.

“Where is Ivan, Anastasia?” my father pressed, suddenly ignoring her disgust. “You said he’d be home to see my daughter.”

“Why? You want to snatch your miserable daughter back so soon?” Anastasia’s smile was razor-sharp. “At least let her meet him first. You can go home now. I’ll contact you when the deal is finalized.”

And just like that, my father left.

He gave my shoulder one last gentle pat, and something broke inside of me. I had a terrible feeling that it was the final touch I would ever feel from him.

“Follow me.”

Anastasia’s command snapped me back to reality.

I watched my father’s back disappear through the massive doors, then I trailed behind her up the grand staircase.

We stopped at a heavy wooden door on the second floor.

“This is Ivan’s room,” she said coolly. “He doesn’t like anyone entering without his permission. But you can sit and wait for him inside. Just don’t touch a single thing. Unless you want your eyes plucked out, and then you won’t only be mute, you’ll be blind too.”

I nodded quickly.

She leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear, voice dropping to a venomous whisper.

“Take off your dress while you wait. Let your body be the first thing he sees when he walks in.”

Then she turned and walked away.

I pushed the heavy door open and stepped into hell.

The room was colder than the rest of the estate.

The lights dimmed to a low amber glow that barely pushed back the shadows. Too quiet.

I’d expected the sharp bite of cigarettes or something chemical, like the mafia dens I’d seen in movies.

Instead, the air carried rich cedar and a dark, expensive cologne that wrapped around me like a warning.

Just as Anastasia had ordered, I peeled off my dress and let it drop to the floor. I stood there in nothing but my plain white bra and panties, my skin already prickling with goosebumps.

My heart hammered so hard I could feel it in my throat.

I was about to lower myself into the nearest chair when a soft sound came from the closed door on the far side of the room, the bathroom, I guessed.

It couldn’t be a maid.

Anastasia had been very clear. No one entered without the Don’s permission.

Before I could finish the thought, the door swung open.

A man stepped out, completely naked, rubbing a towel through his wet hair.

Every nerve in my body ignited at once.

This was the first time I had ever seen a man like this, raw, powerful, unashamed.

Water still clung to the hard lines of his chest, sliding down the ridges of his abs and lower, where a thick, heavy cock hung between powerful thighs.

I stumbled backward in shock and crashed straight into something solid.

Not a chair. A wheelchair.

My entire body froze. Without stopping to think, my eyes dropped to his legs.

How?…

Ivan Petrov was crippled. But the man before me was on his feet. His legs were strong and lined with muscles. And he could move without any hesitation.

He could walk.

The wheels creaked as I knocked into it.

That small sound made him freeze.

He dragged the towel away from his face, his wet black hair falling back from sharp, devastating features.

His cold blue eyes locked onto me.

“Who the fuck are you?”

I opened my mouth, desperate to explain but only air came out.

Fear gripped my soul and for the first time since I walked into the mansion, I was shivering from pure terror. My hands lifted automatically to sign, but I knew he wouldn’t understand.

I’d only look like a frantic, broken doll to him.

He crossed the room in two long strides, towering over me. “Did you not hear what I just said?”

I couldn’t stop my gaze from flicking down for half a second, that thick, heavy length swaying with every movement.

Heat flooded my cheeks.

His hand shot out and wrapped around my throat, yanking me up from the wheelchair until I was on my toes.

I let out a silent yelp.

The grip was firm, not enough to cut off air, but terribly painful.

My back hit the wall as he pinned me there.

I clawed at his wrist, but he didn’t loosen his hold.

Those icy blue eyes darkened with fury… and something hot and dark flashed through them as they raked over my trembling body.

“I asked you a question,” he growled, his voice low and entirely dangerous. “Who the hell are you?”

His fingers flexed on my throat.

My lips parted again, but only a shaky, silent breath escaped.

“Speak Up! Now!”

Oh God.