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"No, he wasn't." I felt a stab of remorse twist in my gut when Artem lowered his gaze.
For as long as I could remember, Artem had been one of my father's main guards. He had been working for my father since he was nineteen years old, and I had just turned five. He had risen through the ranks to become one of my father’s most trusted lieutenants. Today, because of me, he was punished. Because every single one of those guards was under his direction, and if they messed up, so did he.
"Please accept my apologies, Artem. You were harmed as a result of my irresponsibility."
"Anastacia, I'm sure this was nothing compared to the suffering you're feeling right now."
Artem was one of the few people I permitted to address me by my first name.
"How so?"I raised my brow.
"Being forced to marry a man you've never met and onlyever heard of." At that moment, he looked sorry for me. He looked at me as if I was fragile.
"Don't look at me that way, Artem. I don't have a choice. You know that as well as I do."
As he was about to respond, my father emerged from the shadows. I could sense he was there long before I heard him.
"My office, Anastacia. Now!"
When I looked away from the guard, I expected to see my father's huge frame, but he had disappeared.
“You know where I am if you need anything.” I heard Artem’s soft, calming voice behind me. The anger he once felt when he saw me striding through the gardens had vanished, and he was back to being the Artem I grew up alongside.
“Do you hate me?” My voice cracked a little as the tears gathered in my eyes.
“Anastacia, I could never hate you. You are family to me, and I could never hate family."
I inhaled deeply before making my way to the office.
I'd kicked off my running shoes at the door before ascending the stairs to his office. The halls of our mansion were eerily quiet. I had half expected to bump into my mother or at the very least a guard. But it was just me, my thoughts, and the thumping of my heart.
Although our house was heavily guarded and secured on the outside, the interior was the opposite. It was all about our family; countless photos, including some from before my brother and I were born, decorated the walls. There was one in particular that I adored above all others, my parents on their wedding day. My mother was the picture of beauty, her piercing blue eyes locked on my father, as his silver ones were on her. He had reached up and tucked a strayash-blonde curl behind her ear, and they appeared to be madly in love. We didn't see that smile much from himanymore until we went beyond our limits to impress him. It was the final picture in the row before my father's office.
I knocked on the hefty wooden door and waited for his permission to enter.
“Come in, Anastacia.” His voice sounded low and angry from the other side of the door.
I pushed open the door and stepped inside. He sat at his mahogany desk, his hands clasped in front of him, his fingers intertwined.
Over the years, his office had evolved into a haven for him, a place where he spent many hours after becomingPakhan. There were bulletproof windows from floor to ceiling. After I was born, he relocated his office to this part of the house, and as we grew older,we used to see him standingby those verywindows, watching Miles and Iplay beneath the trees and amongst my mother's flowers.
He had always been an attractive man and ageing hadn’t changed that in the slightest. His deep brown hair was pulled to the side, which occasionally tumbled down over his brow, his beard was well-maintained, and he never once appeared unkempt. He was dressed in his usual black pants and a white dress shirt with the collar a tad undone. It displayed the top of his tattoo, which covered his upper half. My father had always exuded strength, it emanated from him. To everyone else, he was a well-respectedPakhanwho had worked hard for his position. But to me, he was a father.A man who had adored me since the day I was born. He was always there for me. My first steps, my first smile, my first ballet recital, and my first target practice along with many other milestones I had reached in life. I stood in front of him, clothed head-to-toe in dirty mud-caked running gear.His eyes were disapproving of my appearance the moment he saw me.
"Anastacia, where have you been?" His voice was tinged with irritation.
"I went for a run."
"It's obvious from your appearance." He leant back in his chair, his lips thinned, and matched the narrowness of his eyes.
"I apologise, I only wanted to clear my head." That wasn't a lie, and the tiny softening of my father's look indicated that he believed me.
"I understand, Anastacia, I truly do."
"But?"
"Your immature behaviour today cost me two of my best men."
He got up, pushing his chair back slightly beforestriding around the desk to face me. His large hands gripped the wood as he perched against the desk.
