46

Raven
“My name is Bryan Volkov, and I believe you know my grandson, Chris.”
My jaw dropped as I realized why the man-Bryan-looked familiar.
He was Chris’s grandfather.
When I was shoved into the back of the car by two Russian goons, I would never have thought it would be Bryan Volkov, one of the most powerful Pahkans in the Bratva, and one of the most feared men in Russia.
“I go back to my original question. What is it you want with me, Mr. Volkov?”
I was putting up a brave front, but inside, I was a nervous wreck. Bile crawled up my throat, and I fought back the urge to vomit. I shifted in my chair and, through sheer force of will, kept my leg from bouncing up and down.
His bushy dark brows rose before a smile spread over his face. “You’re a feisty one, Ms. Alexander. My grandson needs that.”
“With all due respect, Sir, I don’t think you can speak for what Chris needs. You haven’t seen him in how many years?” Where was this attitude coming from? Maybe it was because Iwas finished getting stepped on, and after Ayrton, I knew what true fear was.
Bryan was dangerous. There was little doubt about that. But I didn’t think he’d hurt me. He had an agenda, and I was sure it didn’t have anything to do with hurting me.
He threw his head back, and rich laughter filled the room. “You remind me of my wife. Which is a high compliment.”
Chris did say his grandmother was the only reason he was able to get out of Russia.
“But to circle back to your question, I wanted to meet you.” He strode to a wet bar in the corner of the room and poured two healthy glasses of clear liquid, which I assumed was vodka. He handed one to me and sank into the other chair in front of the fireplace. Bryan drank his vodka in one swallow and set the glass on the side table.
He gazed at me expectantly, looking down at the glass and then back to my face.
Okay. I could roll with the punches here. Hopefully, he wouldn’t make me take more than this one shot. Well, it was closer to two or three shots, considering the glass size.
Damn Russians and their alcohol.
“Do you always mutter under your breath every thought that pops into your head?”
Fuck me. I was doing it again.
I lifted the glass to my lips and swallowed it before I could talk myself out of it.
Holy shit, that burned. At least it was good-quality vodka, but damn, I was already feeling lightheaded, and it had only been seconds since I swallowed it.
“The answer to that is yes,” I replied, my voice high-pitched and tight from the vodka. Damn, it still burned.
“Hmm,” Bryan leaned forward on his forearms as he regarded me critically. “I want a relationship with my grandson. You will help me to forge this.”
I bit down on my bottom lip to keep from laughing as my eyebrows rose nearly into my hairline. “And you expected to accomplish this by kidnapping me…”
“That is why you will make it so.” He spoke simply and left room for no argument.
But of course, being me, I was going to say something.
“Again, I say this with respect, but are you fucking bonker bananas? I don’t know the full story yet, but I got the impression that he hates your guts, and it’ll probably be even worse once he finds out you took me.”
“You’ll convince him.”
He was fucking delusional. There was no way I was going to force Chris to have a relationship with a man he hated.
“Bryan, what are you doing in here?” An older woman snapped in a Russian accent as she appeared in the room. The moment she saw me, a string of Russian curses fell from her lips.
She marched up, standing before Bryan, and smacked the back of his head.
Bryan’s eyes warmed with affection and lust-gross; I didn’t want to see people their age getting it on, even if Bryan was a handsome man for someone in his late sixties.
“You told me you’d stay away!” She slapped Bryan’s chest this time. “How dare you lie to me. Chris is going to be even more furious at you for taking his woman. Are you a fucking idiot?”
Bryan smiled at the end of her tirade and gently grasped her wrist when she was poised for another blow. “Darling, you know he’ll come for her, so then I’ll at least be able to talk to him.”
She shook her head again. “Me, he may talk to. You, on the other hand, he’ll probably shoot.”
“She’s got a point,” I muttered under my breath.
Both paused and looked in my direction, almost as if they had forgotten about me in the midst of their argument.
The woman smiled, her face transformed with the gesture. Her silver hair was piled on the top of her head in a messy bun with tendrils framing her face. She had ice-blue eyes framed by laugh lines. I could see the small similarities between her and Chris. The set of their mouths. The shape of their eyes.
Despite being the wife of a Bratva Pakhan, she had something decent and pure beneath the fire because she was sure as hell snarky and not afraid to tell her husband when he was being an ass.
“I’m Mariya, Charlotte. It’s very nice to meet you.” She held out a hand, and I shook it gratefully.
“Nice to meet you as well, Mariya. Please call me Raven. I’ve heard nothing but great things about you.” Not that I’d heard much of anything, but I didn’t want to be rude. But there had been affection in Chris’s voice the few times he spoke of hisbabushka.
“On behalf of my husband, I need to apologize for how you’ve been treated. Are you hurt?”
I shook my head, but I absently rubbed over the raw skin of my wrists. Mariya zeroed in on the movement and cursed. She whirled on Bryan again and broke off in a streak of rapid-fire Russian as she wagged her finger in his face. The man took it in stride, trying not to smile as his wife went off on him.
“Are you quite done, dear?” Bryan sighed as Mariya finished. His grin was wide but was more amused than angry or vengeful. He wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist and guided her to sit on one of his powerful thighs. “The girl is quite okay, as you can see. Our stubborn grandson will be here soon, thanks to me.”
“Thanks to you kidnapping me.” I rolled my eyes, bitterness injected into the words. “But let’s just see what Chris has to say.”