Chapter 6 Nikolai
"Pull off your clothes." The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
Anya froze. Her huge dark eyes went even wider with terror. Her whole body started shaking so badly I could see it from where I stood.
I watched her small hands move to the hem of her thin nightgown. They were trembling. She was crying again, those silent tears sliding down her pale cheeks. But she was going to obey anyway. You either obey or suffer worse.
I felt something twist in my chest. Something I did not want to feel.
"Stop," I said.
Anya's hands froze. She looked up at me with confusion and fear mixed together in those huge eyes.
I turned away from her, moved to my closet, and pulled out one of my shirts. Black cotton. It was too big for her small frame, but it would cover her better than that thin nightgown.
I threw the shirt at her. It hit her chest and she caught it automatically.
"Put that on," I ordered. "Your nightgown is too thin. You will catch a cold in this house."
Anya just stared at me. Like she could not understand what was happening. Like I had spoken in a language she did not know.
"Now," I snapped.
She pulled the shirt over her nightgown quickly. It hung to her knees. The sleeves covered her hands completely. She looked even smaller now. Like a child wearing her father's clothes.
The thought of her father made my jaw tighten. Marco Koslov. The man who had looked at me with pity in that courtroom. The man who thought he could destroy my family and walk away. The man whose daughter now stood in my bedroom wearing my shirt and looking at me like I was the most confusing thing in the world.
I was confusing myself too.
"Go back to your room," I said, my voice colder than I intended. "And take the shirt with you. Wear it at night. I do not need you getting sick."
Anya nodded quickly and moved towards the door. She did not ask questions. She just obeyed.
She disappeared through the door and I stood alone in my bedroom as dawn light filled the room. I had not slept all night. I had not slept properly in weeks. Maybe months. Sleep meant darkness.
I was the most powerful man in Moscow. I controlled five families and an empire built on fear.
But I could not sleep in the dark.
And now Anya Koslov knows it.
That should have terrified me. It should have made me want to eliminate the threat she represented.
But when I thought about those huge dark eyes watching me work all night, seeing my fear and my shame, I felt something else.
Relief maybe. That someone finally knew. That I did not have to pretend to be invincible every single moment.
It was a dangerous thought. The kind of thought that got men like me killed.
I poured vodka even though it was barely sunrise. Drank it in one swallow then poured another.
Mikhail found me an hour later, still in my bedroom, still drinking.
"You look like hell," he observed, closing the door behind him.
"Thank you for that insight." I whispered.
"Did you sleep at all last night?"
"No."
Mikhail sighed and sat in the chair by my desk. "The Koslov girl was seen leaving your bedroom this morning wearing your shirt. The servants are talking."
"Let them talk."
"Nikolai. What are you doing with her?"
I did not answer. Because I did not know.
"She is Marco Koslov's daughter," Mikhail continued. "The man who tried to destroy us. You took her as revenge to send a message. But now you are feeding her. Protecting her from Katya. Giving her your clothes. The families will see this as weakness."
"Then let them try to challenge me," I said coldly. "And they will see what happens to men who mistake mercy for weakness."
"Is it mercy? Or is it something else?"
I looked at Mikhail. "I do not know," I admitted. "When I look at her, I see her father. But I also see something else. Something that reminds me of things I thought I had buried long ago. My mother."
"That is dangerous, Nikolai. Seeing humanity in your enemies makes it harder to destroy them."
"I know."
"So what will you do?"
I stood and moved to the window, looking out at the forests that surrounded my estate.
"I will keep her close," I said finally. "I will watch her, study her and figure out what it is about Marco Koslov's daughter that has gotten under my skin. And when I understand it, I will eliminate it."
"And if you cannot eliminate it?"
I did not answer. Because I did not have an answer.
That afternoon, I had meetings with the Volkov family about drug shipments. Then the Zaytsevs about construction permits. Then the Ivanovs about a territory dispute that was threatening to become violent.
I handled it all with cold efficiency. Made decisions and issued orders. But the whole time, part of my mind was somewhere else. Thinking about a small girl in a too big shirt, humming lullabies in a basement room. Thinking about how she had watched me all night and seen my fear and had not tried to use it against me.
Yet. Probably.
That evening, I summoned her to my study. She came quickly, wearing a simple dress and my black shirt underneath it. I could see the collar peeking out.
"Sit," I ordered, gesturing to the chair across from my desk.
She sat carefully, like she was afraid the chair might break. She kept her eyes down and her hands folded in her lap.
"Look at me when I speak to you," I said coldly.
She raised her eyes slowly.
"You have been here for two weeks now," I said. "You clean my rooms. You eat the food I provide. You sleep in the room I gave you. But we have not discussed the terms of your service."
"Terms?" She whispered.
"Yes. Terms. You work for me now. You belong to me. But I am not unreasonable. If you serve me well, if you obey without question, if you cause no problems, I will ensure your brother stays safe with the Ivanov family."
Her whole body went rigid. "Dmitri? You know where Dmitri is?"
"Of course I know everything that happens in Moscow." I leaned back in my chair. "Your brother is being trained as an enforcer. He is small for his age. The Ivanovs are not kind to weak boys."
Tears filled her eyes immediately. "Please. Please do not hurt him. He is just a child."
"He is fourteen. Old enough to pay for his father's sins." I paused, watching her face. "But I am willing to ensure the Ivanovs treat him well."
Hope flashed across her face.
"What do you want?" she asked, weakly. "What do I have to do?"
This was the moment. The moment where I should tell her exactly what she was. A property. A tool for revenge. But looking at her face, seeing that desperate hope, I found myself saying something different.
"Continue working in my private quarters. Continue humming your lullabies. And at night, when I am working late, you will stay in my room. You will sleep on the floor like last night. Your presence helps me focus."
It was a lie. Sort of. Her presence did not help me focus. But the sound of someone else breathing nearby kept the darkness at bay.
"That is all?" She sounded suspicious. Like she could not believe it was that simple.
"That is all. For now."
"And Dmitri will be safe?"
"Yes."
She nodded slowly. "Then I agree to your terms."
"Good." I turned back to my papers, dismissing her.
She stood to leave.
But as she reached the door, someone knocked.
"Come in," I called.
One of my guards entered. "Sir. Alexei Volkov is here to see you. He says it is urgent."
My jaw tightened. Alexei Volkov. My childhood friend turned into an enemy. The man who wanted to destroy me almost as much as I wanted to destroy him.
"Show him in." I looked at Anya. "Go to your room. Now."
She moved quickly towards the door. But Alexei was already entering. He saw her immediately.
His ice blue eyes traveled over her small frame. Took my shirt under her dress. The way she kept her head down. Everything.
A slow smile spread across his devilishly handsome face.
"Well," Alexei said softly. "What do we have here?"