Chapter 15 Anya
I had spent the morning cleaning Nikolai’s study like always after his first night in my room. But everything felt different now.
My hands dusted the shelves, but my mind was in my small bed. I kept thinking about the weight of his arm around my waist. The sound of his breathing in the dark. The way he had looked in the morning light, soft and young, not like a monster at all.
My heart was confused.
Vera came by mid-morning with tea. She put the tray down and looked at me.
“You look tired,” she observed. Her eyes were always sharp.
“I did not sleep well,” I said. It was only half a lie. I had slept, but it was a strange, alert sleep.
“Bad dreams?” She asked carefully.
“Something like that.” I nodded.
She studied my face. I felt like she could see right through me. “The Pakhan seems different today.”
My heart did a funny jump. “Different how?” My voice cracked.
“He looked less angry and less tense.” She paused, picked up a book and pretended to dust it. “I heard he walked out of the servants’ wing this morning. Very early before dawn.”
I froze. The cloth in my hand stopped moving. “Oh?”
“Yes.” She put the book down. Her eyes met mine. “Strange, is it not? The Pakhan never goes to the servants’ wing. It makes me wonder what he was doing there.”
The air felt thick. “I do not know,” I said. My voice sounded weak.
“Hmm.” Vera did not sound convinced. “Well. Whatever the reason, he seems calmer today. That is good for all of us.”
She left before I could say anything else.
I let out a shaky breath. My hands were trembling. If Vera knew, others would know too. The guards. The cooks. Everyone.
What would they think? What would they say?
I scrubbed the floor harder, trying to scrub away my worries.
That afternoon, Mikhail himself came to get me. “The Pakhan wants you in his study,” he said. His tone was neutral, but his eyes were curious.
When I entered, both men were there. Nikolai sat behind his desk, looking like the Pakhan again, cold, and untouchable. Mikhail stood by the window.
“Close the door,” Nikolai ordered.
I closed it. The click sounded very loud.
“Tonight there is a meeting with the Zaytsev family,” Nikolai said. His voice was all business. “It will be late. I will not return until after midnight.”
I nodded, waiting.
“So you will go to bed at your normal time. I will come to your room when I return. Do you understand?”
He was telling me in front of Mikhail. Making it an official order. My face felt warm.
“Yes, Pakhan,” I whispered.
Mikhail’s eyebrows rose just a little. But he said nothing.
“Good. You are dismissed.”
I left quickly. But as I pulled the door closed, I heard Mikhail’s voice, low and serious.
“So. The servants’ wing. Her room. Want to tell me what that is about?”
“No,” Nikolai’s voice was cold. “I do not.”
“Nikolai…”
“It is none of your concern, Mikhail. Leave it alone.”
The door shut completely, cutting off the rest.
I walked back to my room, my heart pounding. So Mikhail knew. And he did not like it. He thought it was a problem.
Maybe it was.
That night, I lay in my bed waiting. The lamp was low. The whole estate was quiet. Midnight came and went.
Finally, around one in the morning, I heard his footsteps. They were heavy and slow. He must be very tired.
And fur sone strange reason my heart leapt. A slow smile spread across my face but I stopped I before it reached my eyes.
A soft knock on my door.
“Come in,” I called.
The door opened. Nikolai entered. He closed it quietly behind him.
He looked exhausted. His tie was loose. His shirt was wrinkled. He smelled like cigar smoke and cold night air.
“The meeting went late,” he said. It was almost an apology.
“I can see that.” I whispered shyly.
He took off his jacket and tie. He draped them over my small chair. Then he moved to the bed. He lay down on his side, his back turned to me, just like before.
I lay down too, leaving space between us.
“Mikhail knows,” he said into the darkness.
“I figured.” I whispered.
He said nothing after.
We lay in silence. His breathing began to slow and deepen. Sleep was pulling him under.
“Anya?” His voice was drowsy, and soft.
“Yes?” I said without turning. I couldn't bare to see his face so close to mine. He might be the most dangerous man in Moscow, he was still very gorgeous and irresponsible.
“Do not tell anyone about this. Please.” He said softly.
Please? The word shocked me. He had never said please to me before or to anyone even.
It sounded more like a request, than an order. He was asking me for help.
“I will not tell anyone,” I promised. The words felt important. “Your secret is safe with me.”
He made a small sound. And I saw his shoulders relax.
Within minutes, he was asleep.
And like clockwork, his arm moved. It settled around my waist, holding me close again. His body curved around mine in the dark.
This time, I did not even pretend to mind. The weight felt good. It felt real.
I was starting to fall asleep too when I heard them.
Male voices. Right outside my door. It was hushed but urgent.
“I am telling you, that is where he is. In there.” One said.
“In a servant’s room? Two nights in a row? That makes no sense.” The other said.
“I saw him go in myself!” The other replied.
“Maybe he is just using her. You know how he is.”
“For two whole nights? No. This is something else. This is different.”
The voices faded as the men walked away.
But the words hung in the air.
My blood turned to ice.
I lay perfectly still in the dark, Nikolai’s arm heavy across me, his breath warm on my neck.
Tomorrow, everyone would know.
The Pakhan was sleeping in my bed.
And I had no idea what would happen then.