CHAPTER 2: THE PAKHAN
2071 Words
The penthouse was a cage dressed in luxury.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city like Nikolai owned every building, every street, every soul below. White marble floors, black leather furniture, modern art that probably cost more than my entire life. Everything was cold. Pristine. Untouched.
Like no one actually lived here.
Dmitri had dumped my duffel bag in what he called "my room" and left without a word. The bedroom was bigger than my entire apartment, with a king-sized bed, walk-in closet, and bathroom that looked like a luxury spa.
But the door had no lock.
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my phone. Three missed calls from Danny. Two voicemails I couldn't bring myself to listen to. What could I possibly say? *Sorry I abandoned you for a Russian mobster, but at least you're alive?*
A knock made me jump.
"Miss Chen." A woman's voice, sharp and professional. "Mr. Volkov requires your presence."
I opened the door. The same suited woman from the club stood there, her expression unreadable.
"Now?"
"He doesn't like to wait."
Of course he didn't.
I followed her through the penthouse to a massive dining room. A table that could seat twenty people held two place settings at opposite ends. Like we were playing some twisted game of royalty.
Nikolai sat at the head, scrolling through his phone. He'd changed from his suit into dark jeans and a black shirt that hugged his frame. Tattoos peeked out from under his sleeves—intricate designs I couldn't make out from this distance.
He looked up as I entered. "Sit."
I took the chair at the opposite end, fifteen feet away from him.
His lips twitched. "Afraid of me, Maya?"
"Should I be?"
"Absolutely." He set down his phone as staff appeared from nowhere, placing plates of food between us. Steak, roasted vegetables, wine that probably cost more than my rent. "But fear makes people stupid. I need you smart."
"Then maybe don't threaten to kill my brother every five minutes."
Silence. The staff vanished. We were alone.
Nikolai stood, and my heart rate spiked. He moved down the length of the table with predatory grace, pulling out the chair beside me instead.
Too close. Way too close.
"Let's establish some rules," he said, cutting into his steak like we were having a normal conversation. "One: you go nowhere without my permission. Two: you speak to no one about our arrangement. Three: when I give you an order, you obey immediately. Understood?"
"What if your order is unreasonable?"
"Then you obey anyway." He took a bite, watching me. "You're not here to question me, Maya. You're here to serve."
The word made my skin crawl. "And what exactly will I be serving? Coffee? Files? Or something else?"
His eyes darkened with something that might've been amusement. "Careful. That sounded almost like courage."
"It was a question."
"And I'll answer it when I decide you're ready." He gestured to my untouched plate. "Eat. You'll need your strength."
"For what?"
"Tomorrow, you meet the family."
Family. The word sent ice through my veins. "The Bratva."
"My brothers, my inner circle. They'll want to know who you are and why you're suddenly living in my penthouse." He leaned closer, and I caught that scent again—expensive cologne and danger. "So we need to get our story straight."
"What story?"
"That you're mine by choice, not contract. That you came to me willingly. That you belong to me in every way that matters."
My fork clattered against the plate. "You want me to lie?"
"I want you to survive." His voice dropped lower. "The Bratva respects strength, Maya. They smell weakness, they attack. If they think you're here against your will, they'll test you. Hurt you. Use you against me."
"And if I pretend to be your willing slave?"
"Girlfriend," he corrected. "You're my girlfriend. Devoted. Loyal. Completely obsessed with me."
I laughed bitterly. "No one will believe that."
"They will when I do this."
He moved fast. One second I was in my chair, the next his hand was tangled in my hair, tilting my head back. His face hovered inches from mine, those ice-blue eyes burning into me.
"When we're in public," he murmured, his breath warm against my lips, "you look at me like I'm the only man in the world. You touch me. You smile. You make everyone believe you're desperate for my attention."
My pulse hammered. "And if I refuse?"
"Then I'll make it real." His thumb traced my lower lip, and I hated how my body reacted. "I'll touch you until you forget it's pretend. Kiss you until you stop fighting. Claim you so thoroughly that you won't remember what it felt like to be free."
It was a threat. A promise. A warning wrapped in seduction.
"You're insane," I whispered.
"I'm patient." He released me, returning to his meal like nothing happened. "But my patience has limits. Learn your role, Maya. Play it well. Or everyone you love pays the price."
I wanted to throw my wine in his face. Storm out. Scream.
But Danny's face flashed through my mind. Safe. Alive. Because I'd signed that contract.
So I picked up my fork with shaking hands. "Fine. I'll be your fake girlfriend."
"Good girl."
Those two words again. Like I was a dog performing tricks.
We ate in tense silence. Every few minutes, I felt his gaze on me, studying. Assessing. Like he was cataloging every reaction for future use.
Finally, he stood. "Get some sleep. Tomorrow starts early."
"How early?"
"Six AM. We train."
"Train for what?"
His smile was sharp. "To keep you alive."
---
**THE NEXT MORNING**
A pounding on my door jolted me awake at exactly six.
"Up, princess." A male voice, not Nikolai's. "Boss wants you in the gym. Now."
I stumbled out of bed, threw on leggings and a t-shirt from my bag, and followed the voice. It belonged to a younger guy, maybe mid-twenties, with bleached hair and too many ear piercings.
"I'm Alexei," he said, leading me down a hallway I hadn't seen last night. "Nikolai's youngest brother. You're the debt girl, right?"
"Maya."
"Right. Maya the debt girl." He grinned. "Fair warning: Nik's in a mood this morning. Someone tried to hit one of our shipments last night. He's been up since three dealing with it."
Great. An angry mobster was exactly what I needed before coffee.
The gym was in the basement—all concrete and equipment and the smell of sweat. Nikolai stood by a punching bag, shirtless, his fists wrapped in tape. Tattoos covered his chest and arms. Russian script, religious imagery, symbols I didn't recognize.
He was beautiful and terrifying.
"You're late," he said without looking at me.
"It's 6:02."
"Late is late." He finally turned, and his eyes were colder than yesterday. Whatever happened with that shipment, it put him in a dangerous mood. "Come here."
I approached carefully. He grabbed my wrist, pulling me in front of the punching bag.
"Hit it."
"What?"
"You heard me. Hit the bag."
"I don't know how to—"
His body pressed against my back, his arms coming around me to position my hands. "Thumb outside your fist. Aim with your first two knuckles. Put your weight behind it."
I threw an awkward punch. The bag barely moved.
"Pathetic." His breath was hot against my ear. "Again. Harder."
Another punch. Still weak.
"Maya." His hands gripped my hips, adjusting my stance. "You're in my world now. You think everyone will treat you gently because you're pretty and scared? They'll eat you alive. So learn to fight back."
Something in his tone made my anger spike. I thought of Mom. Of Danny. Of this man who owned me like property.
I punched the bag hard enough to hurt my knuckles.
"Better." Was that approval in his voice? "Again."
We trained for an hour. Punches, basic blocks, how to escape a grip. He was a brutal teacher—no praise, constant criticism, pushing until my muscles screamed.
But I didn't complain. Wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
Finally, he stepped back. "Shower. Breakfast in thirty. Then we visit the warehouse."
"What's at the warehouse?"
"The family." He wiped sweat from his face with a towel. "And Maya? Remember what we discussed. You're mine. Act like it."
---
**THE WAREHOUSE**
The car ride was silent. Nikolai made phone calls in Russian while I stared out the window, trying to calm my nerves.
The warehouse looked abandoned from outside. But inside was chaos—men loading crates, counting money, cleaning weapons like it was casual work.
Everyone stopped when Nikolai entered.
"Pakhan." They bowed their heads. Respect. Fear. Worship.
He didn't acknowledge them, just walked deeper into the warehouse with me trailing behind like a shadow.
We entered a back office where three men waited. They looked like Nikolai—same sharp features, same dangerous energy. Brothers.
"Finally." The oldest stood, maybe late thirties, with a scar across his eyebrow. "We've been waiting an hour, Nik."
"I was busy." Nikolai pulled me forward possessively. "Everyone, this is Maya. Maya, my brothers: Viktor, Konstantin, and you met Alexei."
Viktor's eyes raked over me like I was livestock. "This is the girl? The debt?"
"She's mine," Nikolai corrected, his voice deadly. "Anyone touches her, I'll remove their hands personally."
The threat hung in the air.
Viktor laughed. "Protective already? You've had her what, twelve hours?"
"Eighteen," Nikolai said. "And yes."
Konstantin, quieter than the others, studied me with calculating eyes. "Does she know what you do?"
"She's learning."
"Does she know about—"
"Not yet."
What weren't they telling me?
Alexei grinned. "She's pretty, Nik. I see why you claimed her."
"Shut up, Alexei."
Viktor circled me slowly. "She looks soft. Breakable. You sure she can handle our world?"
"She'll handle it." Nikolai's hand found the small of my back. "Or she won't. Either way, she's mine until I decide otherwise."
The way he said it made me feel like property being appraised.
"Fine." Viktor turned back to Nikolai. "Now can we discuss the actual problem? The Italians hit our shipment last night. Five million in product, gone. And they left a message."
Nikolai's entire demeanor changed. Darker. Colder. "What message?"
Viktor pulled out his phone, showing a photo that made Nikolai's jaw clench.
I couldn't see the image, but his reaction told me everything.
"They're declaring war," Konstantin said quietly.
"Let them." Nikolai's voice was ice. "We'll bury them before they realize their mistake."
"They know about her." Viktor gestured to me. "They know you brought someone new into your home. They think she's your weakness."
The words hit like a punch.
"Then we prove them wrong." Nikolai turned to me, and for a second, something almost like concern flashed in his eyes. "Maya, go wait in the car."
"But—"
"Now."
The command left no room for argument. Dmitri appeared from nowhere, escorting me out.
But as we reached the door, gunshots exploded through the warehouse.
Someone screamed. Men dove for weapons. Dmitri shoved me behind a crate just as bullets shattered the windows.
"Stay down!" he yelled.
Through the chaos, I saw Nikolai. No fear. No hesitation. Just pure lethal focus as he grabbed a gun and returned fire with deadly precision.
This was his world. Violence. Death. War.
And I was trapped in the middle of it.
More gunshots. Shouting in Russian and Italian. The smell of gunpowder and blood.
Then silence.
Dmitri pulled me up. "You hurt?"
I shook my head, too shocked to speak.
Nikolai strode toward us, gun still in hand, a cut bleeding above his eye. His gaze locked on me with terrifying intensity.
"Change of plans," he said. "You're not leaving my side. Not for a second."
"What's happening?"
"The Italians just made their move." He grabbed my arm, pulling me close. "And they used you as bait."
Before I could process his words, his phone rang. He answered, listened, and his face went completely blank.
"What?" Viktor appeared beside us.
Nikolai's eyes met mine, and for the first time, I saw something that looked like regret.
"They have her brother."
The world stopped.
"No." My voice broke. "No, no, no—Danny—"
"They took him from school twenty minutes ago." Nikolai's grip tightened. "And they're demanding I hand you over in exchange."
- Writer
