Chapter Twelve

Celia

The next morning shines way too brightly. My eyes are crusty with tears. I pad into the shower and stand under the water until I finally feel human. Out of the shower, I use the most prized girly thing I own—the hairbrush styler that makes it look like I know what the hell I’m doing with my hair.

A text is waiting from Milos. I’m to be picked up in a half hour to get to the stylist appointment. I sigh as I respond “fine.”

Looking through my closet, I have no idea why I pick the pretty pink dress from the first day with Milos. It still fits perfectly. I don’t bother with makeup since I’m not in the mood for it. I’m hungry and want coffee badly. I hear a brief honk, my ride is here.

As I go out to the SUV Peter is waiting with the door open. I get inside to find Milos there. “Privet, zhena. Have you had breakfast yet?”

All I can do is shake my head. I hate the way my stomach tightens when he calls me wife.

“In that case, we will stop for something.” He tells the driver to go through the drive-thru of a major coffee chain nearby.

As we stop, Milos asks, “What would you like?”

I give my order.

“Why are you here? Afraid I’m going to skip out again?” I wonder aloud.

A smile flashes. “As you said yesterday, you came with me. I am not afraid of you going anywhere.”

His smug reply fills me with resentment—at myself for giving it to him.

“You are not great at spending my money. It is it important that you leave with the best and a large wardrobe. Will your mother need a driver for meeting with the wedding planner and you today? My mother is looking forward to meeting you. As well as assisting with the plans. However, do not feel as though you have to take her advice.”

I shrug. “My mom won’t be there. She hasn’t been involved with my life up to this point. I want to keep it that way going forward.”

His eyes narrow. “Are you sure about that?”

Giving a very unladylike snort, “What does it matter to you? If Carlo wanted to marry me off to a low-level drug dealer into using his fists to beat me on the daily, she would have urged me into it. She would sacrifice me and my sister to anything Carlo wanted. We aren’t her children, we’re her obligation.”

I hate the way his face softens. I don’t want his pity. “Your mother appears to care for you—”

“For once can you please not? I get you think you know best in everything, but this is one time where you don’t know shit. You walked into this family yesterday. I’ve been in this for twenty-three years. As badly as I want to warn Carina that any day now Carlo is going to lock her into a marriage, I don’t dare. I’m too afraid she’ll run if she knows. But I have no doubt now that he’s got me in one, he’s on the hunt for someone to push onto her.” I sip deep on the coffee, wishing it would hit my bloodstream like right this second.

His eyes drop from mine as he considers the words. “It is my intent that my brothers all marry before the end of the year. My uncle has tainted our name of late. It is time for all of us to appear innocuous, boring family men. If you would like, I will discuss with Aleksander a marriage between him and your sister. While I told him he could pick his bride, he would consider it.”

“Aleksander and my sister?” The thought of Aleksander putting up with my sister and my sister attempting to endure a manwhore like Aleksander causes me to laugh.

My sister hates the thought of a guy cheating on her worse than I do. She wants love. Aleksander doesn’t appear as if he could love anyone but himself. Then again she could be here with me, maybe even live in the same house together.

“You find the thought amusing, in what way?” An eyebrow is up.

“Aleksander is so…” I shrug. “Pretty, gorgeous really, and he knows it. I can’t imagine him with my sister.”

A growl comes from him. “You think Aleksander is gorgeous?”

There is a darkness in those fierce yellow eyes, for the first time ever I’m afraid of him. “Are you jealous of your brother? Yes, he’s gorgeous but…”

“But what?” Another growl. His hand goes up to his cheek and I get it instantly—the gunshot wound he hides with the beard.

I can’t tear my eyes from his. “But he pales next to you. Even with your scar, you are stunning...” A phone rings in the front and I’m reminded of Peter and his driver. Face hot, I drop my eyes and shrug. How embarrassing. If I don’t get my shit together he’ll know and he can’t, he cannot know how in love with him I am, or I’m completely screwed.

The man doesn’t want my love, he wants control. He’ll take and take until there’s nothing left. Milos will break me without thought or even trying.

Peter speaks in Russian. “The shipment is ahead of schedule. It arrives at nine tonight. Do you want to meet with Manuel Rodriguez or do you want Aleksander to handle him?”

I check my phone—it’s a little after eleven.

Milos answers in Russian. “I’ll handle the meeting.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Peter asks.

He shakes his head. “No, I told you. You are to remain with Celia.”

“Why is Peter my guard when he’s been yours for years?” The question comes out in Russian without thought, as it’s the language they are speaking.

His mouth quirks up. “Your Russian is excellent.” A little glow appears at the compliment from him, until his next words send my stomach plunging onto the city street beneath the SUV. “Our children’s first language will be Russian without any problem at all.”

“You can’t just order me to have kids and they appear at your command.” The words are out between numb lips.

Those eyes roam over me, leaving my blood hot and sticky as honey.

“One area we won’t have a problem in is the bedroom. You will be pregnant within weeks. It is the one reason I’m willing to give your father those stupid sheets. Like him, I do not want people thinking you were not pure. I don’t give a shit about purity; however, no one will look down on what is mine,” he declares.

Anger fires through me. There it is again. I belong to him. I’m a pawn in this fucked-up game of mafia and power, and he doesn’t give a shit who he marries and knocks up. He is so sure of me, that I’m a weak-willed woman willing to fuck him for any attention. The thought is there in an instant. Fuck him. I’ll find a fucking toy and take care of the stupid proof there has been no man but him.

“That’s what you think. How are you so sure there will be anything on the sheets?” I taunt him.

He chuckles. “It was still there when I tasted your sweet cunt less than six months ago. I know. With the way you play the game of saying no when you mean yes. Going into a man’s room, undressing, coming so hard you scream, then getting scared at the thought of a cock inside you. I know.”

I hate his guts. The decision is easy. “I need to go to the doctor if this pregnancy thing is going to happen.”

“Why do you need to go to the doctor?” Is there concern in his voice? No, don’t believe it. He’s just worried about his plans.

“I got the birth control implant in my arm when I went to school. The whole college experience thing. If you want me pregnant it needs to come out because it’s good for five years. I’ll make the appointment for tomorrow.” I pull out my phone and go online to my doctor’s office. Shit, they don’t have any appointments for this entire week.

“You’ll go see my family’s physician. She is always available when I want to see her,” Milos tells me.

Fear twists my gut at him knowing why I’m really going. “No, I’ll go to my doctor. A mafia doctor is—”

“She isn’t. She treats my mother and our female staff when needed. You will not see the Bratva doctor. He is for gunshots, stab wounds, and the like. No man is allowed to touch you, even if they need to treat you. The only reason he did that time was because your treatment mattered more than a man touching you and seeing you naked.”

A blush hits me. “You’re ridiculous. I can’t have a male doctor? That’s what the order is about not to touch me…no man is allowed to even touch me. Possessive much?”

“Extremely. Do not forget it. You allow a man to touch you and you are signing their death warrant, and you will be punished as well.” The words are hard, rough from a darkness that is pure mafia—death, destruction, power. He means it. He will kill another man for simply touching me, because I belong to him.

Something is wrong with me for my stomach to twist at the words—not in fear but in arousal. I didn’t even realize the car had stopped when my door is opened. Sliding out I’m blind to everything but the promise in his eyes of death to anyone who dares to touch me.

His hand is on my lower back, and I hate the way I jump at the touch—still there, that damn electricity that hasn’t even faded in more than four years. He chuckles as he guides me forward.

Peter is close behind us as we walk for what feels like forever before we are in a quiet corner on the third floor. A pretty pregnant woman with long dark hair is waiting in front of a long rack of clothing.

She smiles as we get closer. “Hello, lovely to meet you. I’m Lydia Holt.”

Milos smiles down at her as he takes her hand. Is it really necessary to kiss her hand? “Milos Levin. Thank you for your assistance today. Dominic spoke highly of you. He failed to mention your beauty was as brilliant as your ability to select the best for my fiancée.”

I want to smack her when she giggles. “Russians…wow. I thought the Sabatini men were something. You are a lucky girl,” she says to me as she finally lets go of his hand. “Dominic mentioned you’re Carlo’s daughter. My apologies. At least you’re better off in the husband department.”

Tugging my hand, she flashes a grin at Milos that I hate her for. She nods her head to a waiting chair. “There’s scotch and vodka because I wasn’t sure which you would prefer. We’ll be back to knock your socks off.”

It isn’t until we’re inside an enormous dressing room the size of a studio apartment that Lydia lets go of me. The room is amazing, with a silk chaise lounge, a leather chair, a mini-fridge, and a three way of mirrors with a single mirror on the opposite wall.

“God, girly, I took the appointment for Dominic but I’m so glad I did. I’ve never met Milos before but he was at the same fundraiser my husband dragged me too. He seemed so scary I wasn’t sure I could have told him yes if he was the one who reached out. I mean Tony Sabatini is scary hot, but Milos just seemed scary as fuck.” Her shiver isn’t exaggerated, it’s from memory.

“When I found out he was mafia I was not surprised at all. The poor girl who was with him was trying so hard to keep his attention, and he didn’t even know her name. Her name was Natalie. He kept calling her Carol. I never in my life thought he would marry. But men…I think it’s better when they never see it coming and they get swept up in it.”

I hate the way she mentions Milos with another woman. It’s also weird how I resent her fear of him. Yes, Milos could be scary, but he would never hurt someone who didn’t deserve it. I want to tell her to please stop talking about other women and Milos. Of course I know he’s been with probably half of the blonde bombshells in Chicago, but I still don’t want to think of it.

“I don’t understand anything you just said.”

Tilting her head, she studies me. “Milos Levin falling in love. I always love when big, strong powerful men are felled by the love bug. It’s way more awesome than gushy love. Half the time they are fighting it like mad, and watching them give in…” She sighs. “It’s awesome.”

I don’t care if Dominic Sabatini likes her. This woman is out of her mind. “Milos doesn’t love me. This is an arranged marriage for our families to be tied together.”

She giggles. “Okay. Except he spent an hour on the phone with me last night talking about everything he wanted to see you in. I would never have believed the man knew what an A-line dress is. I had no idea he was the client I helped all those years ago. He told me last night he liked the things I selected for you before. He'd called the store and placed an order. Back then I was still here pretty much full time. I never spoke with him, just took the order for the size and what he wanted. I thought it was a woman who didn’t want to come into the store. Then I see him looking down at you like he wants to eat you right in front of everyone. If you aren’t pregnant yet, you will be. Hell, if I weren’t pregnant I think I would be after watching him looking at you the way he did.”

Now I’m blushing. Milos on the phone for an hour—for me. Maybe she isn’t out of her mind, it just sounds bizarre to me. Rubbing a hand over her belly, she sighs. “He mentioned he wanted a few dresses for once you’re pregnant. So I have a few babydolls for you. The good thing is he’s not cheap. My favorite words are ‘cost is not a consideration.’ Many of these will be classics you can keep for a season or two. You look great in that dress even though it’s almost three years old. Now let’s get started. Milos gave me a ton of direction like I said. But I want to hear from you. What do you like to wear? What are you comfortable in?”

The next few hours have my head spinning. All the clothes are beautiful. They don’t just fit my body. They fit me in what I felt comfortable in and what I liked to wear in a way that kind of blew my mind. Not a single item is something I didn’t want to wear. I love everything.

Almost as much as I love Lydia—she is so nice and sweet. Halfway through she slips me her number so we can go out to lunch before she has her baby. Admitting once she has her baby girl she’ll have four children, a nanny, and a sweet, supportive husband, but it’s likely she won’t be able to get out often. So call her soon, she tells me, so we can get together.

Milos is incredibly patient. A few times he growls, though, when Lydia sends me out in something he deems too tight or sexy. I don’t argue with him until I get to a pretty pink sheer illusion dress with sparkles across my breasts.

“Please, Milos. I love it so much,” I plead.

An eyebrow goes up. “No. No one will see you in that dress. There is a reason Peter is at the elevator.”

“God, you’re such a massive asshole.” All at once I’m pissed at him. Fuck him. I’ll buy the damn thing myself. I’m not a doll he gets to dress up the way he wants. I slam the door of the dressing room so hard it rattles in the frame.

Lydia sighs. “Careful, girlie, push too hard and—”

The door opens again to Milos. His eyes are on Lydia. “I need a moment with my fiancée, please.” His Russian accent is there, turning the words into smoke and gravel grating over my sensitive skin. I want to plead with her not to leave, except my throat is too tight to get the words out.

“Sure. I’m going to go prepare the shoes so it will be a few. Call me when you’re ready.” Lydia flits away as if the devil were on her heels.

Only the softest of clicks reaches my ears when the door closes behind him. It’s there again, the darkness that made Lydia shiver. I shiver too, but not in fear, in breathless anticipation.

He can’t mean to do what I see in his eyes, not here—not where anyone could hear. Okay, I had yet to see a single person, but still…we were in public. I intend to back away, only my legs won’t move. Milos is in front of me, waves of intense heat hitting me, pulling me into his current. A hand comes up to my cheek, brushing over the skin in the barest of touches.

“Kotyonok is showing her claws today. I will not allow it. You will be a sweet, submissive kitten for me. Behave and your rewards will be numerous. Force me to correct you and you will regret it.”

What? “I’m not an unruly child you’re going to punish, Milos. I’m a woman—”

A hand is around my throat, squeezing in warning. Why the fuck am I so wet? “Act like a woman and I will treat you like one. Swear like a child and have tantrums, and I will spank your ass raw so that every time you sit down for the next few days, you will be reminded of your foolish behavior in order to not repeat it. As badly as the spanking I gave you years ago hurt, I was pulling my strength. Today I will not.”

The memory of that long-ago spanking, and what happened after, sends my whole body into aching longing. No, damn it.

“Fuck you.” I have no idea where the air comes from to force the words out of my painfully tight lungs.

An eyebrow goes up. “Not yet, zhena. More the pity. Remember, I warned you.”

Lightning fast, I’m pulled over the arm of the silk chaise lounge. Before I can even take in air, the hem of the dress is over the back of my head. He tears the silky panties apart with his bare hands until my ass is on display.

“No!” I gasp. It’s too late, a second later his hand comes down on one ass cheek. The pain is sharp and blinding. Holy crap, he wasn’t kidding. As bad as the spanking hurt before, this is much worse.

“You do not tell me no. You do not tell me a fucking thing. Ten to each cheek. Count them off, Celia.” The words hit my skin almost as hard as he’s promising his hand will.

I shake my head, that hand tightens in warning around my neck. “Count. Them. Off. Celia.” He growls.

“One,” I ground out the word between my teeth.

“Two.”

Oh god, no. It can’t be. “Three.” I moan.

“Four,” I spit out. I hate him and myself for what’s happening to me. This is a punishment while I want to kill him for treating me like a child. The previous response was because it was something new, different, Milos cared and was punishing me for hurting myself. This is an entirely different situation, so how can it still turn me inside out like this?

“Five.” Is a gasp.

I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him with every fiber of my being by the time I get to eighteen. I gasp the word “twenty,” and only seconds later his thick fingers are playing in the crack of my ass.

“No,” I plead.

A throaty chuckle. “Yes, my dear Celia. Just not yet. Although it would be the easiest way to satisfy the both of us in order to deliver those sheets your father wants so badly. Believe me when I tell you I will ensure you come long and hard while my cock is in your tight little ass.”

What twists me up even more is I have no doubt he will deliver on his promise. So much so that I almost open my mouth to plead for him to take me there. Except, no, oh no—his fingers find what has me pleading for the world to open up and swallow me whole. The way I’m dripping wet from his spanking.

“Such sweet honey you make for me.” It’s a whisper. “Once again your punishment is keeping me from enjoying this honey. You don’t get to come. Why don’t you get to come, kotyonok?”

Humiliation fills me. “Because I was bad and this is a punishment.”

The hand around my throat yanks me from over the arm of the chaise lounge, then onto my knees. “Last time I told you sucking my cock wasn’t a punishment. This time, it is. Open your pretty little mouth for me.”

I’m so messed up. My core is clenching tight as he undoes his belt, his pants and slides the zipper down. His cock is so hard it isn’t easy for him to pull down the silky black boxers. I open my mouth, my hand is around him, needing to touch him.

Catching my hand. “No, no touching. Next time, I’ll allow it, but not this time. This is a punishment. I’m going to fuck your throat. Don’t make me bind your hands. Put them behind your back.”

I don’t fight him. Clasping my hands together, I open my mouth to him.

Satisfaction rolls from him in waves. Shame slams into me. How could he not be so sure he can use me, when I give in without the smallest fight? No, damn it. I fall back and try to roll away from him.

A rough hand goes into my hair, yanking me back onto my knees with a force that brings tears to my eyes. I thought he would never hurt me. “Fuck you. I’m not a wind-up doll for you to play with. For fuck’s sake, we’re in public.”

Pulling my head back, his other hand goes beneath my chin. “I’m not playing, zhena. This is happening because you did not behave. Correction needs to occur. Where we are doesn’t mean shit to me. I’ll spank your ass raw in front of the fucking mayor if I need to. I told you once, good girls get what they want, bad girls get punished. Now open your fucking mouth.”

I hate him. Closing my eyes, I open my mouth. The hand tightens in my hair. “Open your eyes, Celia. I want to see the silver you can’t hide when you want me so badly your cunt runs down your inner thighs.”

Clenching my eyes tight, I shake my head. I’m picked up and back over the arm of the chaise lounge, and this time there is no warning. He doesn’t say a word before slapping my swollen, weeping core. Holy shit, sparks appear behind my eyelids at how badly it hurts “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Milos. Please stop.”

He doesn’t even slow as he slaps me ten times there. Finally it stops. I sag against the arm of the chaise. Milos is so tall I’m staring right at his cock, he steps closer. “Eyes open and on me.”

I don’t dare defy him. Those yellow eyes are glowing with something I can’t define, but it scares the fuck out of me. “Open your mouth.”

Opening my mouth wide, my stomach twists at how much I welcome him thrusting into my mouth. He doesn’t stop until he hits my throat, then forces me to take him all the way in.

His groan fills the room. “Fuck. Your lips, so ripe and full, they look like they belong on an angel. They hide that viperous tongue, a tongue that loves licking my cock, wrapping around me like you can’t get enough. And you can’t, can you? Can’t get enough of me fucking your mouth and throat. Good. Because neither can I.”

Exhilaration buzzes through my veins; those bees he kicked over so long ago are back. Alive only for him.

I do my best to breathe through my mouth and not gag as I take him so deep his lower abdomen is against my nose. Once he’s all the way in, he hums in approval. “Such a good slut you can be when you want to. Why the fuck don’t you want to be all the time?”

For a heartbeat he doesn’t move, then he’s thrusting deep in and out of me, fucking me so rough I don’t recognize him as the Milos from before. And I know immediately this is how he treats the other women.

By defying him and making him mad, I goaded him into treating me like all the others. My stomach churns with anxiety at what it means. As mad as I am at him—as much as I don’t want him to use me, he is. This time I understand what he meant. When I offered myself to him—giving him what he needed—he treated me differently than when he punished me.

Again and again he’s thrusting into my mouth and throat. I swallow, trying to soothe the pain building at his use. When he growls as I do, pride fills me for what I do to him.

“There she is, my dirty little slut wet for my cock. A virgin sucking my cock like you’re starving for it. This time you’re going to taste my come. I’m not finishing down your throat. Dirty girls swallow come.” He says it in Russian, low and guttural in his big chest.

He repeats what he said all those years ago, only now I understand him. No other man has ever known my mouth, and no one will. If they do, he’ll kill them. I hum in agreement now the same as I did then. As ambivalent as I am right now about what is happening, I will do this for no other man. Milos is the only one I want. I just want to be the only one he wants too. And knowing I’m not is tearing me apart.

Tightening his hand in my hair, he pulls out of my throat into my mouth. “I’m coming. Don’t swallow until I tell you,” Milos orders.

Holy crap, when he comes it’s far more than I expect. Thick, salty, sticky, I’m a freak for loving this as much as I did the way he used me.

“Show me,” rumbles out of him.

I open my mouth.

“Good girl, now swallow.”

Face flaming at what his words do to me, I swallow.

Cupping my cheek, he swipes at the corner of my mouth where some came out. He offers it to me, I open and suck his finger deep as I tongue the pad.

In a graceful movement he’s down on his haunches in front of me. “I don’t understand what’s going on with you. But I will not abide you being a brat. Brats don’t turn me on. Do not turn our marriage into a battlefield. You will not win. I warned you a long time ago, I have no limits on doing whatever it takes to keep what is mine. You are mine. You belong to me. I protect what is mine, I keep what is mine. Do not push me, Celia.”

He seals his vow with a rough, painful kiss that claims, demands, steals all the air in my body.

There’s a knock at the door of the dressing room. Peter calls through the door. Speaking Russian. “Milos, there is an issue with the shipment. Manuel Rodriguez is calling for you.”

Rising again, Milos tells him to call in another car for me. He’ll take Danil and Peter is to remain with me.

I’m still on my knees when he leaves without looking back. His mind is already on business and away from me. I’m a possession consigned to a corner of his life. No longer thought of the moment he’s done.