Page 36 of Hers to Command

Chapter Fifteen

Anya

The door clicks shut behind Riccardo. I watch him through the window as he gets into his car and drives off to his office. Or maybe another meeting somewhere else I don’t know about.

My bitterness from last night isn’t quite gone yet, even if the intensity of last night’s anger has cooled. I still don’t trust him to keep me in the loop, and that’s not a position I’m willing to accept. No. I’m about to act, rather than react, for once.

When I’m sure he’s gone, I slip back to my room to grab my purse and make my way downstairs, careful not to be too loud. I catch a glimpse of Mrs. Batton through the kitchen door and quickly move past before she turns to see me. The last thing I want is for her or anyone else to report back to Riccardo beforeI even leave the damn house, and I suspect that’s exactly what would happen. Which is also why I’m pulling out my phone before I open the door.

“Chill, Riccardo, I’m on my way to you now.” I pause and nod at the guards with a smile that tells them everything is peachy. “Yeah, no problem. I’m driving my own car. I’ll see you in a bit.”

I’m past the two men watching the house, not lowering my phone from my ear until I’m in my convertible, even though the call is entirely fake. I’m hoping the one-sided conversation is enough to reassure them that Riccardo knows I’m leaving the house and that I don’t need to have a fucking escort.

Riccardo may have married me, but he doesn’t get to control my choices, no matter what he thinks. And I get the distinct feeling that the possessiveness he’s been showing might get out of hand if I don’t put a stop to it now.

Kind of fucked up, really. He should be happy I mind my own business, since this isn’t a normal marriage. It’s a business agreement, no matter how domestic last night’s dinner may have felt before he dropped an atomic bomb on me when he said he’d seen Mikhail and Gianna.

As I drive out of the driveway, I confirm that Ren and Josh aren’t following me. Then I scroll down to Mikhail’s number, my thumb hovering over the call button for a beat. My pulse quickens slightly; I haven’t spoken to him since our last heated exchange, but I can’t let that stop me now.

I press the green call button, pulling onto the street as it rings on the other end.

I half expect that Mikhail won’t answer. But just as I think he’s letting my call go to voice-mail, Mikhail’s voice comes through.

“Anya.” His tone is curt, wary.

“Mikhail.” I keep my tone casual, ignoring the edge in his voice. “We need to talk. Today.”

“You fucking married Riccardo Angelo? Did you lose your mind?”

“Look who’s pretending to give a shit about my life now.” I snarl, the guilt from last night making me feel extra bitchy.

“Save it. You can’t keep giving me shit for marrying Gianna, who I actually give a shit about when you got hitched to a fucking egomaniac. One you didn’t even know before!”

Like hell, I can’t keep giving him shit about that, but I’ve got to stay on track.

“I need you to meet me.”

He hesitates. “What’s going on?”

“Meet me at the Flemingdon Park club in an hour.”

There’s a brief silence, and I can almost feel him bristling. “Fine,” he says, clipped and wary. “I’ll be there.”

I hang up before he can say anything more, leaning back and taking a steadying breath. It’s a risk to have Mikhail come to the Russian part of the city, especially with Dmitri pulling shit. Even father’s men might not welcome him with open arms. But this will be on my terms. In the club, where I’ve been in control for years. Father might not have known it, but Mikhail sure as hell did. It was supposed to be like that. Him as the face of operations and me running things. I was cool with that, and then he went and fucked it all up. Now I’m making him come to me, and I’ll remind him exactly who’s been running things while he was off playing gangster and chasing after Gianna.

Of course, as much as it’s a risk for Mikhail to come to the club, news of my marriage might already be spreading among our men as well, so I call Sergei next, who agrees to meet me at the club as well.

When I get there, I greet Sergei outside. He’s waiting to escort me in, which is different, but having him by my side while walking in will set the right tone with the men. I trust Sergei, so I suck it up, even if I dislike the notion that I need a man’sprotection. The objection is laughable anyway, after I married Riccardo for that exact reason.

A number of the men greet us, and more than one of them gives me curious looks, but not a single one of them seems upset by my showing up here.

When we get upstairs, I sit at my old desk in what technically was supposed to be Mikhail’s office.

When the door falls shut, Sergei speaks. “You married Riccardo Angelo.” His voice is calm, but his expression is anything but. “Why would you do such a thing?”

I glare at him. “Because my father figured marrying me off to a psychopath was a good idea.”

Sergei inclines his head. “I discouraged your father from inviting the Brotherhood to Toronto, but he was very angry with your brother. He wanted to secure a powerful successor for himself.”

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