Page 39 of Hers to Command

I feel a flare of irritation burn through me. Anya left without saying a damn thing. If Dmitri or anyone from the Brotherhood tried anything, she’d be out there without backup, unprotected. The thought alone has my hands clenching into fists. The irritation evolves into anger. I pace, trying to let some of the tension bleed out before I do something reckless. Like her. Stubborn, reckless woman.

Before I can head outside to yell at Josh and Ren or pull out my phone to call Toni and have him send men out after her, there is a noise at the front door. I turn on my heel, stepping into the entrance area at the same time as she steps in. She’s wearing business casual clothes and is holding a coffee cup from one of those chains that specializes in fancy nonsense drinks in her hand. She looks as calm as anything, as if she hasn’t just disappeared for hours.

She barely closes the door behind her before I’m in her path, close enough to see that hint of surprise in her eyes when she meets my stare.

“Where the hell have you been?” I try to keep my cool, but the irritation and worry are biting through, making the edge in my tone impossible to hide. One woman is offering me snacks like I’m six years old again, and the other doesn’t even bother to check in, something any of my men would know to do if they don’t want to pull night shifts for a month. “You just walked out without a word to anyone? Without taking one of the men as backup?”

She tilts her chin up. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission to leave.”

“Not permission,” I say, trying to rein in the frustration. “But maybe a little foresight. You know how dangerous things are right now. Did it even cross your mind that Dmitri might take a shot at you while you’re out there on your own?”

“Riccardo.” Her voice is firm, no softness, no deference. “I’m not a hostage. If I need to go somewhere, I’ll go.”

She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down. Nor does she show any reason. And the way she looks at me ignites something possessive, something I’m not used to feeling. She damn well should ask for my permission before she leaves. For all we know, she could be pregnant with my kid. Although the doc told me it’s unlikely. A fact that made me feel rather disgruntled for some reason. Not that I ever planned to be a father, but something about the idea of knocking Anya up has my dick stand at attention and my brain going single-minded.

I step closer, dropping my voice lower. “I know you’re not a hostage. But I didn’t marry you to watch you walk straight into a war zone alone.”

Of course, I had very practical reasons for marrying her and they only had a little to do with the scolding attraction I feel for her, but now isn’t the time to be pedantic about it. Giving Anya even an inch of rope would be like handing her the noose and daring her to tighten it around my neck.

Anya folds her arms, lifting her chin, her eyes still locked on mine. “Maybe it’s time you stopped thinking of me as someone you need to keep. We’ll get divorced sooner rather than later, unless you want to change our agreement?”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, but underneath the flare of anger, there’s something darker, something I can’t ignore. She’s not fragile, not like... I close my eyes briefly, feeling the past grip me harder than it has in years, a memory of my mother, of the way she never would’ve dared to look my father in the eye like Anya’s looking at me now.

Still, as much as I fucking hate the idea of allowing Anya to walk out of this house, and eventually out of this marriage, it’s what needs to happen. There can be no healthy marriage in this life. The men I watched run this city growing up had dead wives. Gianna’s mother, Anya’s mother, my mother. All of them were dead before it was their time. And there is a reason for it.

“No, I don’t plan on changing our agreement.”

Though that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy her while she’s my wife.

Anya

“Good,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. Riccardo’s gaze stays intense, but it dips to the swell of my breasts, where I opened my blouse an extra button before coming into the house.

I might not be cool with my father selling me off like some whore, but everybody knows that a woman who knows how to use her assets is empowered, not suppressed.

Leading the way into the living room, I sit down on the couch, waiting for Riccardo to take a seat in the armchair before I get to the business we need to discuss. “I’m not going to just sit here and wait for everyone else to make decisions for me,” I state, voice steady. “I’m going to go for the Bratva leadership.”

A flicker of surprise crosses his face, but it’s quickly smoothed over. “You’re going for your father’s position in the Bratva.” His tone is amused now, and I hate that he seems to find it that hard to believe.

“Yes.” I keep my voice firm. Sure, it’s not an easy play, but at least I will have dealt my own cards this time. And telling Riccardo might be a gamble, but it could pay off.

“And you think they’ll just hand it to you?” he asks, making me scoff.

“Not hand it to me,” I say, “But I’m willing to make my case, and I’ll make sure they at least listen. In fact, I started doing that today.”

He doesn’t say anything, but I see the slightest crease at the corner of his eye, his jaw tight as he watches me.

“Look, I’m going to need support to do this. And I’d be willing to cut you in—if you’re willing to help me.”

“You’d... cut me in,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “If I back your bid for the Bratva.”

I meet his eyes, ignoring the tension pooling low in my stomach. “Exactly.”

He holds my gaze for a long moment. Finally, he gives a slight nod, though his face is still unreadable. “Okay. I’m willing to discuss possibilities.”

Hiding my surprise at the easy agreement, I tilt my chin up, my voice firm. I can’t help thinking something about this is amusing to him, but since he’s willing to talk, I’m not about to push the point now. My ego be damned. “Good.”

Before I can explain what I have in mind, Riccardo steps toward me and smirks down at me. “I seem to remember that I get a taste of you before we close on any deal we make.”

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