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CHAPTER 9

Gavril


I punched the bag hard, relishing the bite in my knuckles as I did so. A roundhouse kick came next, and I grunted at the pull in my back muscles.


“What did that bag do to you?”


I wiped my forehead with the back of my arm and turned to find Anatoly leaning against the wall of the gym, his arms crossed over his chest.


“Why do you always have to be the smart ass?”


He chuckled. “What did you do wrong this time?”


I grabbed a towel off the rack nearby, wiping my face with it. “What makes you think I fucked up?”


He looked around, arching a brow. “I haven’t seen you alone in this house since you got married. And I heard that you completely destroyed the dining room this morning. Finally, no one has seen your wife all day.”


“I didn’t destroy the fucking dining room,” I muttered, slinging the towel around my neck. “That’s been exaggerated.”


“Not denying the other rumors?”


“Drop it,” I answered darkly, shooting him a glare. “Eto moi prikaz.”


“You know what your problem is?” Anatoly continued, ignoring my order. “You don’t know when to control your temper.”


I sighed as I grabbed my water bottle. I had come down to the gym to burn off some of my anger, not knowing what else to do. After my conversation with Naomi, I had thought about my words, and hell, maybe the approach had been a little too forceful.


I had just been so fucking pissed at her for not telling me the truth and making me find out the way I had that I’d felt the need to let her know how angry I was.


It was the only reaction I knew, even if it didn’t feel as good as it had in the moment.


“Does it matter?” I finally answered. “This temper is what has kept me the Pakhan for years.”


“Pakhan, yes,” Anatoly countered. “But not husband.”


I flipped him off, his words settling uncomfortably inside my mind. He was right. I hadn’t meant to frighten Naomi at all. “She needs to learn,” I answered. “About what it means to be a wife to begin with.”


“I don’t think she’s the one who needs to learn,” Anatoly drawled. “You can’t tear yourself away from her even if you wanted to. My advice to you, my Pakhan, is that you start learning how to be a proper husband.”


“What do I need to learn?” I drew in a breath. “She’s pregnant.”


Anatoly’s eyes widened. “Is that so?”


“It is,” I answered. “The future heir to the Belaya Bratva is growing in her belly. So tell me, Anatoly. What do I need to learn?”


“There is more to being a husband than getting your wife pregnant.” Anatoly mulled his words over carefully. “But all the same. Congratulations are in order.”


Perhaps he was right about being a husband. But I had bigger things to worry about. My entire plan had come together like I intended. But somewhere, it had also fallen apart.


“What now?” Anatoly asked after a moment.


“We stick to the plan,” I growled. “Nothing has changed.” The tender feelings didn’t mean shit to me now. Naomi had twisted my trust. She’d made me think that I could love again, trust again, only for it to all fall apart and show me yet again that I wasn’t meant to love anyone.


It wasn’t in my DNA. “She is not allowed outside the mansion,” I told him as I strode to the door. “I will be informing the staff of my changes this afternoon.”


“Are you sure?” Anatoly said as I passed him on the way out. “I thought you said she wasn’t your prisoner.”


I looked at him, gritting my teeth together. “She may be my wife, but she is getting nosy. There is to be a clear separation between my work and my home. A separation that she crossed of her volition. And for that, there are consequences.”


Anatoly opened his mouth but quickly shut it, deciding to let it end at that.


I walked up the stairs that led to the main level of the mansion. Anatoly couldn’t understand where I was coming from. How could he? I felt betrayed that Naomi hadn’t trusted me enough to tell me what she had seen.


Or did you feel betrayed that she saw without your permission? Or perhaps it was because she thought she could tell you what to do?


What she wanted was impossible. I couldn’t give up the trafficking world. I couldn’t go straight.


I was the Pakhan of the Belaya Bratva—that title alone had brought about every unsavory deal over the past few decades. We weren’t those that walked the straight and narrow. We couldn’t go and turn “good” all because my wife didn’t agree with my line of business.


It wasn’t going to happen.


Later that afternoon, I assembled Vera, Ivan, and others in the dining room, which had been put back together like nothing had ever happened.


“From this day forward,” I announced, clasping my hands behind my back. “My wife will not be allowed to go anywhere without me. She is not to leave the mansion or give any commands without my direct authority. Is that understood?”


“Yes, Pakhan,” they responded nearly in unison.


“Dismissed,” I growled, turning away.


Vera was the first one to approach me as the staff filed out of the dining room, coming to stand beside me. “May I ask why the change, master?” she asked lightly.


“No, you may not,” I told her, not feeling the need to explain my actions.


Vera cleared her throat. “I only wish to convey—”


“Was I not clear in my instructions?” I interrupted her, and she stepped back in surprise. “Are you questioning my motives? Are you questioning me?”


There was a flicker of indecision in her eyes before she shook her head, bowing it in a sign of respect. “Of course not, master. Forgive me.”


I turned my attention back to the window I had been looking out of. “If my wife needs anything, you are to still make it available to her. I am to be notified of all her doctor’s appointments so that I may attend with her.”


“Of course,” Vera murmured. “I will make certain they are on your calendar.”


“But she is not to leave the premises,” I continued. “You are to contact me immediately if that is her request.”


“Master.”


“Tell me that you understand,” I said.


This was not up for debate. I had trusted Naomi one time, and now she’d torn open this rift between us. And with this rift, our relationship was never going to be the same again.


“I understand,” she repeated, clearing her throat. “I will make sure to carry out your orders to the letter.”


I could hear the distaste in her voice but allowed her to have it for now. She didn’t have to agree with my demands. But she sure as hell had to carry them out, or I would be finding a replacement.


“Good. That is all,” I told her.


Vera turned and walked away without question, and I didn’t loosen my breath until I heard the door close behind her.


Later that night, after I had finished my work, I climbed the stairs to the second landing, turning toward the partially closed bedroom door of Naomi’s suite. While I shouldn’t even bother, I couldn’t help it. I was drawn to her, no matter what had happened between us.


Tags: Brook Wilder Belaya Bratva Romance