We arrive at the manor and Anya is the first one out of the cars. She marches ahead to the main entryway, holding her long, layered skirt up with her hands near her hips. She moves with intent and grace. The rest of us get out and follow behind as she walks into Mikhailov Manor. She’s leading this mission rather than falling in line and waiting for a command.
I love this side of her—this strong, take-no-shit, take-no-prisoners side of her. It’s a part of her personality that’s been repressed for far too long in captivity and it’s shining now. She’s playing a part, but she owns it, because it really is her.
No time is wasted as she heads straight for the staircase and the four families follow behind her. We cross the blood trail made by Nikolai and the throng pauses as Cordelia and Renata decide to trail off and follow it. Anya turns halfway up the grand staircase, her skirt twisting around and framing her as a worthy goddess, looming above them all. She’s dignified and powerful, watching them as she waits for the two women to make their confirmation of Nikolai’s passing.
They disappear inside the dance studio and I hear faint crying, as if either of these women might actually miss Nikolai. When they return, they look somber and it makes me fucking glad to see any form of hurt touch their features.
“It’s true. He’s dead.” Renata confirms to the group in a solemn tone, then turns her head toward Anya. “She is the last Mikhailov.”
A ripple of truth slithers through the air around us, coiling and wrapping around the board members. I can feel the buzz of awareness as they steal glances with one another, grappling to accept the new reality—two Heads of House murdered in one night, and only one member left of the Mikhailov family. Then, almost all at once, heads snap to Anya and I hold my breath as they look at her.
Silence descends and Anya stands taller.
“Well?” Renata asks.
“It’s legitimate, all right. This marriage is legal. As is the name change,” Murphy says.
I’ve been ordered to kneel in the far corner of the boardroom as this conversation carries on. My jacket is off and my wrists are zip-tied tightly in front of me. I sit back on my heels and struggle against my instinct to fight and shout and interject every other sentence with a sarcastic comment.
“This is unprecedented.” Renata’s eyebrows furrow.
“Oh?” Anya says from her spot at the head of the table. She took that spot the moment we walked in here, refusing to be told where to sit—and she looks fucking sexy as hell. “Didn’t you just grant permission for Lorenzo to marry your talent slave?”
“Yes,” Renata replies, “but Lorenzo is not a Vittori. He’s a Fiore. Nor is he Head of House.”
“But that has happened before, hasn’t it? I recall Vigo saying something to that effect when Lorenzo first asked the family for permission to marry Olivia. I was there, Renata. We sat and listened to her practice her talent on the piano, and I remember every word of the exchange when they asked for permission to marry. I suppose you must have forgotten about me while I was a broken doll.” Anya sits a little taller in her seat. “But I can assure you won’t forget me now.”
Renata smiles at her slowly, but there’s no joy in it. “That’s correct. But it doesn’t matter in this scenario. You killed a Head of House, which in turn resulted in the fatal shooting of a second Head of House in the aftermath. Mikhailov or not, you will be punished severely. Blood taken requires blood given.”
“I’m aware of your family’s bloodlust, Renata.” Anya speaks with a commanding voice. “But there is another item of information you’ll want to be aware of before delivering any such punishment.”
“And what is that?” Murphy asks.
I see the way Anya’s throat contracts as she swallows. “I’m pregnant.”
A stale silence falls over the room.
“Come again, lass?”
“I’m pregnant.” Anya whips her head to meet Murphy’s eyes. “I don’t know how far along. But depending on the timing, it could belong to Nikolai or Vigo.” She conveniently leaves out that it could also be mine. “If you recall, the board decided I should be given to Nikolai as punishment for my attempted suicide at the Leblancs’ last quarter. We had unprotected sex several times that night.”
“You’re a damn, rotten liar,” Cordelia sneers. “I went through your contract of sale with a fine-toothed comb that very night with Vigo. It plainly states that you are infertile…incapable of becoming pregnant.”
“Nikolai lied,” Anya replies. “I assure you, I am capable of becoming pregnant because I am pregnant. There are positive tests on my bathroom sink right now to prove it.”
“I don’t believe it. How could a pregnancy possibly survive all your body has been through?” Renata questions with a tilt of her head.
“I don’t know,” Anya replies. “I honestly don’t know. What I do know is that this child is the descendant of Nikolai or Vigo.”
Or me.
Cordelia fails at her attempt to hold back a sob, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she pushes back from the table and practically runs from the room.
Murphy leans back from the table, running a hand over his beard. “Well, fuck all. If this is true, it changes everything.”
“It changes nothing,” Renata practically spits with fury. “She is responsible for the deaths of two Heads of House. She must be punished.”
“And she will be, in due time. But we can’t afford another change in family line if it can be avoided. The Leblancs’ rise to take over the Campbells caused enough disruption in our distribution lines. We can’t afford more this year. If the child is a boy, he can ascend to Head of House when he comes of age, whether he’s a Mikhailov or a Vittori.” Murphy pauses. “I propose Lorenzo take on temporary leadership of the Vittori family under Renata’s advisement.”
Renata’s hands slaps the table as she leans forward. “I will lead our family.
Murphy leans forward on his elbows, raising an eyebrow at Renata. “We’ve been around and around this point of contention with you. You can’t be Head of House. But you will bear some of the responsibility under Lorenzo. He’s been part of the board long enough to know the ins and outs of the business. You’re gonna need to focus your attention elsewhere.”
“Oh?”
“I’m proposing Anya be sent to live at the Vittori home. Renata, you will provide her with the medical care she requires until she delivers.”
Renata hisses, buzzing with fury. “You want me to take care of the woman who killed my brother?”