Chapter Text
Month 3: NARRATOR’S POV
Ilya Rozanov was born on a cloudy, muggy day in Moscow, mid-summer, to an abusive father and a gentle mother, and had a bully for an older brother. Growing up, his mother taught him caring for Omegas was an Alpha’s job, while his father taught him Omegas were possessions to use as pawns.
By the time Ilya was 10 years old, he was already an engaged man. He had no issues with the Omega his father had found for him, but he knew that wasn’t his mate. His mother assured him that when he found his mate, she would stand by his side and fight his father so that he might marry the one meant for him.
When Ilya turned 12, he had to learn how to survive. His mother had left him, didn’t even apologize to him or say farewell - but he understood; Grigori Rozanov had a way of breaking people.
His betrothed was a light in the darkness he was always surrounded by. Svetlana didn’t want to be someone’s trophy or pawn; she was smart and ambitious. She wanted a name and a life for herself, away from the country that saw her only as a womb to bear Alphas.
At 16, Ilya and Sveta had a plan to escape, and it was time to set things in motion. They started small, approaching their fathers with innocent requests, such as spending time in Canada and the United States to improve their English.
Initially, the men were opposed; they didn’t understand why English was important if they were going to continue carrying on the family business in Moscow. However, Ilya, knowing how power-hungry his father was, had already anticipated this issue, so he replied, “Why just stay in Moscow, Papa? Don’t you want the Rozanov name to be respected everywhere? If I am to carry the name and the business, I want the world to fear me, not just Russia.” Grigori had looked at his son with so much pride and approval. Ilya didn’t have to do much convincing to bring Sveta along; after all, she was his possession.
On their first trip overseas, they visited Los Angeles, California. Sveta loved it; she was enamored by the water, the weather, and the freedom that everyone there seemed to have. However, Ilya wasn’t impressed.
They had chosen that city because of their family’s connection to the Port of Los Angeles. The Rozanovs were known as the Shipping Tycoons of St. Petersburg. They had an immensely influential international network of commercial cargo ships and maritime logistics infrastructure. Still, Grigori didn’t like to leave Russia, so no one knew a Rozanov in Canada or the United States.
Sveta and Ilya stayed in Los Angeles for 2 weeks, much to Ilya’s dismay, but he used the time to begin introducing a face with the name Rozanov. He learned how his family’s shipping containers were being used to transport items to later sale in Russian black markets.
He met people and added contacts he deemed trusted enough to have for when it was time to leave Russia permanently. On their last day before returning to Russia, he was told his next visit should be the Port of Boston; If the Port of Los Angeles controlled the West Coast, the Port of Boston controlled the East Coast, and whoever controlled both had absolute power.
Once in Russia, they set the next part of their plan in motion. Sveta was quite savvy with computers, and after spending a couple of days doing online searches on international law and maritime tax havens, it didn’t take her long to create a series of layered shell companies registered in Panama and assigning phantom ships to them.
The plan was to use Grigori’s ships to move the containers as normal; however, the logs would show the new phantom ships as the ones doing the moving and the delivery payment would be sent to their shell company, which had an offshore bank account not linked to either of them. They would funnel his father’s money from the shipping cargo in small amounts for a few years until they were old enough to leave.
—
When Ilya turned 20, it was finally time to execute the last part of their escape plan. For the past 4 years, they visited Canada and the United States once a year. Ilya continued to grow his network of trusted people he could rely on and began creating the business that he would establish to give him and Sveta the freedom they crave in the United States.
The Irina Transoceanic Company was almost complete with the help of Farah Jalali. She was an Alpha he met during his trip to Canada; it was purely coincidental. They were both at a coffee shop, obviously having a bad day; she overheard Ilya complaining about maritime law and immediately approached to offer advice. She was an immigration attorney, but had some basic knowledge of maritime and international law from her “college days electives,” as she said.
Farah became their most valuable asset. They finalized the business model, and the permits were already in place for the day they moved, thanks to Farah. She had also begun to fill out employer-based visas for them both so that, once they arrived in the United States, they could legally remain to work at the Irina Company.
Svetlana and Ilya took advantage of those four years; Ilya pushed for business classes under the guise that they were to run the family business better and grow it into an international conglomerate, and managed to enroll Svetlana in computer and legal classes.
They knew their time to leave was now because, for the past month, their parents had begun to grow restless and angrier; they should’ve been married when they both turned 18 years old, but Ilya had convinced them to wait a few more years.
On a cloudy, muggy day, Ilya packed his entire life in a suitcase, grabbed the little that remained of his mother’s memory, and walked out the door without saying a word to his father or brother. Sveta was already waiting outside with the car, and Farah had sent a plane to take them directly to Boston Logan International Airport.
The plan was simple: once they arrived in Boston, Farah would finalize their visas and begin their permanent resident status. Ilya would establish the physical location for The Irina Transoceanic Company and turn the shell company into a legitimate business with a CEO, CFO, and other personnel, all of whom he had met over the past 4 years. Once the company was created, the money from the offshore accounts would be used to purchase the 3 shipping boats that had previously been phantom, all-cash. All this while, Svetlana applied to Harvard Law to finish her legal studies.
—-
At 22, Ilya was already a millionaire, and his name was recognized everywhere he went in Boston. He had worked hard; he didn’t remember resting or focusing on anything else for the last two years. Ilya had built a reputation that wasn’t very good, but he didn’t care; it kept him and Svetlana safe.
In two years, they obtained their permanent residency; Sveta graduated from Harvard Law early and then went to open a branch of the ITC in Los Angeles. Farah had approached him shortly after their arrival in the States and made her intentions clear - Sveta was her mate, but she wanted her to finish her studies and get to the place she wanted to be.
Farah was a great Alpha, and she would definitely take care of Sveta; Ilya couldn’t have been happier for the woman that had become his sister and only family. The age difference was a major concern for Farah; She was 38, and they had a 15-year gap. She didn’t want Sveta’s young career as an attorney to be derailed by who her mate was. However, Ilya reassured her that Svetlana was more than capable of handling herself and that she should let her make the decision.
Farah decided to build a friendship while Svetlana finished law school. When it was time for Svetlana to move to California, Farah asked Ilya to transfer to their upcoming California branch. Once ITC was established and the ports were secured, Farah bonded with Sveta and married her.
—-
Ilya finally began to live a semi-normal life shortly after Sveta moved to California. She was always so much better at making friends wherever she went, so it wasn’t a surprise when she and Farah came to visit him in Boston and dragged him to a Bears hockey game. She explained that the team’s captain, Cliff Marleau, and she had met at a bar in LA, and had given her tickets to a home game.
Meeting Cliff for the first time was refreshing for Ilya; the Alpha was like a giant teddy bear, a bit of an idiot, but in that endearing type of way. They both really hit it off, and he found himself enjoying Cliff’s company, especially since he was a great wingman to have; he had puck bunnies around him everywhere they went.
—-
Cliff was the only true friend Ilya had without counting Sveta, so he was the obvious choice to tell about Ilya’s mate. His best friend had been by Ilya’s side for 4 years now and knew everything there was to know about Ilya. It allowed him to just be himself, without worrying about the persona the internet had of him. Cliff protected him like a brother, and it was refreshing to have someone outside his chosen family stand by him.
“So your Omega is an Ottawa fan? Ouch,” Cliff said with a mouthful of burger. On the way to the burger joint, Ilya told Cliff everything, from being absolutely awestruck by the Omega to smelling his arousal and fighting the urge to keep him. Cliff had jokingly suggested they go to a club so Ilya could release those urges on a puck bunny, but the glacier look that Ilya sent his way had him laughing loudly and lifting his arms in mock surrender.
“He loves hockey; he used to play in college, but now that he has graduated, he doesn’t think he’ll get to skate again,” Ilya said, taking a swig of his vodka. “I can get him a VIP tour pass, and maybe convince coach to let him skate a bit during practice,” Cliff mumbled, shoving 5 fries in his mouth at the same time.
Ilya sighed and took out his phone, opening the text message app. First, he sent a text to Aika,
Ilya: Head back to TD and pick up the envelope Coach LeClaire will have waiting for you. Take it to Brad, then come back to get me.
After seeing the message had been delivered and read, he opened a text thread with LeClaire.
Ilya: Jon, I need you to have an envelope ready for Aika. It needs to have a VIP pass to tour the facilities and locker room (Cliff volunteered to do the tour), and then, if you could let Shane Hollander sit in at practice and maybe skate a little with the players, I’d owe you one.
Jon: Mr. Rozanov, thankfully I am still at TD; I had just finished, but this should be fairly easy to put together quickly, especially if Cliff is handling the tour - the marketing team is already gone, and they’d normally handle the tours. May I ask who this Shane is? If he’s gonna be skating with my players, I’d like to know at least he’s trustworthy.
Ilya: He’s trustworthy. He’s a recent college graduate from Ottawa; this is his first time traveling outside of Canada, and he came solely for the Boston vs. Ottawa game. All this was Cliff’s idea, but given he’s currently shoving two burgers down his throat, I figured things would get done faster if I did them.
Jon: HAA! Consider it done, Mr. Rozanov; you’d definitely be doing us a solid if you could once again donate towards the maintenance of TD Garden for this upcoming season.
Ilya: Send the invoices to my office and I’ll have Jackie handle it. Appreciate your time, Jon. Enjoy the rest of your evening.
Jon: Thank you, Mr. Rozanov, for your continued contribution towards the team’s facilities. The envelope has been left with the overnight guard out front for your driver.
Ilya closed the messaging application and put his phone face down on the table.
—
A few hours later, Cliff was drunk and nagging at Ilya to go pick up girls with him, but how could Ilya possibly think of anything or anyone else when all he wanted was his kitten? He made eye contact with Aika and jerked his head towards Cliff. She understood immediately; it was time to drop off the large Alpha at home. The idiot had thankfully not driven, so his car was still parked at TD, not far. Ilya removed the car keys from inside Cliff’s coat jacket, and then half-carried the man to the awaiting black SUV.
“Take him home, then come get me, or send for someone else to come get me, if there’s anyone else on rotation,” Ilya told Aika. He saw her grab her phone and search for whoever may be close to the area to pick him up when Ilya’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He forgot all the plans when a picture of Shane eating creme pie appeared on his screen. “Never mind, just go home. I’ll drive his car back,” Ilya said absently, closing the door before Aika could reply.
Seeing Shane's message about wanting more practically broke Ilya. He fought over what to say, how to respond, what to do; in the end, he called Brad to get their location and drove to meet him there. Ilya just needed to see Shane and touch him, even if only for a little while.
Once he arrived at Brad's, he confirmed that Brad had received the envelope from Aika. Ilya inspected the items inside the envelope, then asked for the rest of the items Jackie should’ve had for him. Brad dutifully procured a second envelope, and he saw all the upgraded passes for the rest of Shane’s itinerary.
“Go move him to the penthouse, make sure to instruct the hotel about the envelope and to treat him as if they had Ilya Rozanov in that room - they don’t need to know anything else besides that,” Ilya said to Brad. At the same time, his eyes scanned the area looking for Shane. When his eyes landed on the angel, he felt his Alpha settle, his world quieten, and his body relax.
—
Shane Hollander felt like a detective on the verge of cracking the case open. He had multiple tabs open on his laptop, more on his phone, and a pile of papers he had printed at the hotel's business center. Tonight was the dinner with Ilya, and even though the internet had definitely raised doubts about whether he should go, the last few days of his trip had been magical because of Ilya.
He was able to skate on professional ice because of the Alpha; that was the greatest gift anyone had ever given him. He got to play on professional ice - even if it was only for a closed practice - and feel like a real NHL player for a few hours. He didn’t care that the internet said Ilya was a drug lord or the head of the Bratva; he had gotten to know Ilya better through phone calls and text messages. The Alpha was not harsh, nor cold, nor heartless - he was the opposite.
Taking out the notebook he bought from a nearby store, he began to make his list of all the facts he had learned about Ilya and arranged them from most probable to very unlikely, placing the printouts supporting each claim.
Truth? Maybe? No way!
- Philanthropist - Head of Bratva - sex trafficker
- has everyone in his pocket. - corrupt politician - drug lord
- rescues omegas - cyber terrorist - married?! Who is Svetlana?!
After he was happy with the way his notebook was arranged, he looked at the clock and realized he had now less than an hour to get ready before Ilya’s driver would come pick him up.
—-
Shane was dropped off at the corner of Tremont Street and was confused. He looked around and saw rows of houses; the only place that could be a restaurant was this “wine emporium”. As he began to walk towards the emporium, he caught a whiff of that cardamom smell and abruptly stopped.
“Shane.”
Crazy how one single word, in that broad Russian accent, made his knees weak. His breath stuttered as he turned around to find the source of the voice, and there it was. The Alpha was dressed in a 3-piece forest green suit; the color made his naturally blue eyes look grey. Shane began to walk towards him, notebook safely in hand.
“Come, our table is ready,” Ilya said with his hand outstretched. The closer Shane got, the more he could read into the Alpha’s body language; his stance, the rigidity in his shoulder, the hardness around the edges of his eyes - he was nervous. He tried not to let it show, but it was as if Shane could see through all the walls and see Ilya.
The Omega took the Alpha’s hand confidently and pulled closer to look up and smile at him. Shane wanted to kiss him, but he could feel the tightness in Ilya’s body, the restraint he was using to hold back - maybe he didn’t want people on the street to see? Shane squeezed Ilya’s hand one more time, as if to say ‘I understand’ and let the Alpha guide him to their destination.
“Umm…Ilya, is this someone’s house? Is this your house? I thought we were going to a restaurant,” Shane began bombarding the Alpha with questions as they began walking towards a brownstone next to the emporium. When Ilya took steps towards the basement, Shane hesitated and pulled his hand back. “You will murder me,” Shane whispered in horror.
Ilya let out a surprised laugh and turned to look at Shane, eyes full of mirth. “Maybe.” The Alpha said before laughing softly at the Omega’s horrified look. “Come on, kitten, Chef Wei doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” Ilya said, stretching his hand out again for Shane to grab.
—
Shane was absolutely gobsmacked; he would’ve never thought that inside a basement was this immaculate Japanese restaurant. “I know you’re half Japanese, so welcome to 311 Omakase by Chef Wei Fa Chen. We have the entire place for ourselves so we can talk freely,” Ilya said, giving Shane a meaningful look. The Omega didn’t fail to catch the ‘half-Japanese ’; he definitely knew he didn’t share that with Ilya, so how did the Alpha know?
“Chef Wei has curated a special menu for us tonight; He wants to try a few new items, so honest feedback is expected after each course. Everyone at 311 Omakase is rumored to be Michelin-starred soon; the food is simply that delicious here.” Ilya said while guiding him to a table away from the chef’s bar.
As he sat, Shane placed his notebook in front of him and gently took off his coat. Before he could turn to place it in the back of his chair, Ilya took it from his hand, delicately folded it, and laid it across a nearby table, doing the same with his suit jacket. As Ilya sat across from him, he gently grabbed Shane’s hand and said, “I’m really happy you are here. It feels like I haven’t had enough time with you before you have to return home to Canada.” He lifted Shane’s hand to his lips and left a gentle kiss on his inner wrist right where his scent gland was. “I’m ready to answer all your questions if you are ready to begin,” Ilya murmured, his lips brushing Shane’s wrist as he spoke.
They were interrupted by Chef Wei, who brought a beautiful bowl of miso soup with what seemed to be smoked fish; the smell had Shane’s mouth watering. “Please enjoy your appetizer,” Chef Wei declared before bowing and returning to the chef’s bar.
“How did you know how old I was and that I’m half Japanese?” Shane said before he chickened out. He didn’t look at Ilya; he kept his eyes trained on the soup as he softly blew on the bite-sized fish he had on the spoon.
“I ran a background check on you,” Ilya said honestly, keeping his eyes trained on the Omega to catch his reactions. Shane exhaled but still didn’t look up from the spoon in front of him. The Alpha was radiating with anticipation, and seeing Shane momentarily tense up set his instincts flaring. “Shane. What did you find? I know you have questions.” Ilya coaxed softly.
“Are you married?”
“No, I am not married nor mated.” Ilya ensured the Omega who was still not making eye contact with him as he slowly ate the soup.
“Who is Svetlana then?”
The bickering tone had Ilya smiling softly; his Omega was jealous, and it was a new expression to add to the endless list of things Shane. “Short story: she’s my sister.” Ilya insisted.
“And the long story?” At this, Shane looked up at Ilya and held his stare intensely.
“She was betrothed to me when I was 10 years old by my father and her father. In Russia, Omegas are possessions, used as pawns and wombs for more Alphas. We knew we were not meant for each other, so we decided to continue the fake engagement while we built the business we have today. We escaped Russia when I was 20; she became a Harvard law graduate, moved to California to open and manage our West Coast operations, and is now happily married and mated. You’ll like her; she’s a year older than you.” Ilya answered honestly.
Shane placed the spoon down and opened his notebook, taking the pen from the elastic loop on the side; he struck a line over words that Ilya couldn’t make out.
“Do you use your ports for drugs and sex trafficking?” Shane asked once again, returning that steely stare to the Alpha.
“Never have I used my ports for drugs or sex trafficking,” the Alpha earnestly replied, holding the Omega’s stare. “Then why are there articles about people coming out of boats in your ports and immediately taken in black SUVs?” At the question, the Alpha sighed deeply and leaned forward, pushed his untouched bowl of soup aside, and looked towards the chef’s bar where the young beta was carefully sharpening his knife.
“As I told you, in Russia Omegas are possessions. Sveta felt very passionate about ensuring that Omegas in Russia and other countries have the same freedoms she has experienced here. So, after we had secured the ports on both the East and West Coasts, she and her mate approached me about starting a humanitarian mission under the umbrella of ITC. Farah, Svetlana’s mate, is an immigration attorney, and Sveta specializes in Maritime and International law; the entire operation was their creation. We don’t smuggle or traffic people; these are Omegas or sometimes even Alphas who are in abusive situations and seeking refuge. Once we get their information, we ‘hire them’ under an L-1 intra-company transfer visa, and they travel as specialized consultants on the ship’s manifest. Once they arrive, Farah fast-tracks their asylum application, and we place them in ITC-owned housing until their paperwork is completed and they can find their own footing. Some of these refugees are deeply traumatized; ITC offers medical plans for each individual so they may seek medical or psychological help if they’re ready. The entire thing is Sveta’s and Farah’s idea so they can explain it better”
Ilya finished and looked back at the Omega. Shane was staring at him with absolute awe and admiration; he sucked in a deep breath, then crossed two other words and circled one from a list Ilya still couldn’t make out.
“Are you the head of the Bratva disguised as a corrupt politician?” Shane blurted out.
Ilya couldn’t help the scoffed laugh that escaped him. “No, kitten, I’m not a corrupt politician or part of the Bratva. I believe what people call me is a Shipping Tycoon if you want to get technical.”
“How does owning boats get everyone in your pocket? I mean, you literally upgraded all my passes and gave me a VIP tour pass with a skating season, all in less than 5 hours! It took me days to book everything; the websites were a nightmare, and the customer service call center was even worse.” Shane finished, horrified by the memory.
“I don’t have people in my pocket; I have built relationships based on trust. The people of Boston know that I care for the city and its people, and I will give everything to ensure the city continues to prosper, but everyone understands that I control the city's ports; if someone crosses me, I stop shipments of the things they need, and if people do me favors, I will expedite whatever shipment they need. It’s more than just owning boats, kitten; I’m the one who decides what goes in and out of this country if it’s crossing by water.” Ilya responded.
The Omega looked at Ilya in fascination before returning to his notebook and scratching out two more words and circling one; there seemed to be one left on the list. “Are you a cyber terrorist?” Shane deadpan asked, looking straight at Ilya.
Ilya let out a loud laugh; he was taken by surprise by the question. “That would’ve been my sister. Let’s say she can be dramatic, opinionated, and actually trained in cyber technology - she would’ve been a great hacker if she hadn’t chosen law.” The Alpha grinned. “That’s her story to tell, but I took the blame for the whole ordeal. I already have an image, so it didn’t affect me to be thought of as the bad guy for a few months,” he hummed happily.
Shane looked at his notebook and scratched out the last word. He continued to stare at it, obviously having some inner monologue. Ilya quickly finished his now cold soup as he saw Chef Wei approach.
“For your next course, please enjoy this crab salad served on its shell and topped with black Tobiko,” Chef Wei announced, placing the plate down and removing the empty soup bowls.
“I think I understand what you were trying to tell me when you said accepting your baggage. You have a lot of power, which means you probably have a lot of enemies. I also did some research into Russia; I don’t know if you still travel there, but same sex relations are frowned upon. If you and I were to become an item, we both could be at risk. Am I right?” he guessed.
Ilya looked at Shane ardently, not wanting to miss a single second of his reaction. “I do have a lot of enemies, but I also have good security for me and those close to me. I don’t visit Russia often; my father and brother still live over there, and in this business we are rivals. However, if I did have to travel there and our relationship became known, it wouldn’t be so frowned upon if it turned out to be a soul match.”
Shane's breath stuttered before stopping altogether. Ilya stood and walked around the table before dropping to one knee in front of the Omega; he slowly reached with his hand to cup the back of Shane’s neck and gently rub the exposed skin. “You’re my mate. I knew it from the moment I sat next to you when we met.” Ilya confessed.
“Will you accept me, and everything that comes attached to me? Your entire life will be under a microscope; you will probably have to move to Boston, and there will always be threats directed at you once we go public,” Ilya cautioned, holding Shane by the neck and forcing his eyes to focus on him.
The Omega was still not speaking, going through an array of emotions - Ilya wished he could know what was going through the Omega’s head right now, but since he couldn’t, he just held the stare and waited.
“I need time to decide. I had a feeling you were my mate, and I was so happy to have finally found you, but leaving Canada permanently? Having to worry about my safety every time I go outside? That is a lot, Ilya.” Shane protested.
—-
As they stood outside the restaurant by the wine emporium where he had been dropped off earlier, he sagged his shoulders in surrender and turned to look at Ilya, who was watching him with eyes full of hope and dejection.
“I’m not saying no, Ilya; I’d be proud to call you my Alpha, I just - ” he was interrupted by a heated growl and an arm wrapping around his waistline to pull him in closer. Shane barely had time to finish collecting his thoughts when he felt the cold press of lips against his neck where his Alpha’s mark would one day be, followed by the sound of a deep inhale and louder growls.
“Ilya,” the Omega whined. He had to take control of the situation; they were in the middle of the sidewalk out in the open. Obviously calling him his Alpha was not the correct move, so he quickly collected himself and tried again. “Ilya, please stop.” The Alpha stepped away from him so quickly that anyone looking probably thought he had been burnt.
Keeping an eye on his Alpha, he adjusted his coat and tried again. “I’m not saying no, Ilya. I want to continue talking to you every day like we have been; I want to know more about you. I want to meet your sisters and for you to meet my parents…I guess what I’m saying is…I want you to court me.” Shane finished quietly, looking down to the ground, embarrassed.
Shane felt like time had stopped; his heart was racing miles per minute. Had he asked for too much? Ilya is older after all, so it’d make sense for the Alpha to be ready to mate now. Before his thoughts could continue to spiral, a finger touched his chin and gently tilted his head up to look at those clear blue eyes. “Kitten, it would be my absolute delight to court you for as long as you want.”
—-
After finding out he was pregnant and confirming it with Dr. Landry, Shane went deep-diving into the internet to learn everything that was happening and would happen to his body. He was absolutely astounded that Rose was correct. The first three months of pregnancy were the worst due to the fatigue, morning sickness, and high risk of miscarriage.
He and Ilya continued to keep in contact with Dr. Landry and get weekly monitoring - at Ilya’s request, of course- and today they were told they had officially passed the first trimester. Unlike regular pregnancies, male Omegas had an 8-month gestation, so he was 5 months away from meeting his son. They decided on their birth plan at the appointment with Dr. Landry, and Shane managed to convince his husband to keep the ultrasound appointments every two weeks; he saw the gratitude in Rose's eyes once Ilya relented.
“Our child is fully formed; he has organs, limbs, bones, and muscles. A full human is growing inside me right now, and in 5 months we will be able to hold him.” Shane said lovingly, stroking his midsection with Ilya cradling his belly reverently from behind him. They both lay in bed, blissful after two rounds of lovemaking. “What do you want to name him? I was hoping that when we had children it would be a girl so that we could name her after your mom, but since it’s a boy, I was thinking Ivan? We could start a tradition of names beginning with ‘i’ just like their papa,” Shane whispered lovingly, looking back at his Alpha.
“Ivan Nikolai Rozanov; Strong name for the future heir of ITC,” Ilya proclaimed with pride in his voice. The Alpha buried his face in his Omega’s neck and lovingly kissed the mark that made him a complete man.