Chapter Twenty-seven

Celia

When I wake up I’m alone again. This time, though, Milos’s side of the bed is cold. I’m worried until I see there is an indention in his pillow. I guess I slept late again. Only the clock on the bedside table says it’s a little six after in the morning.

Throwing the covers off, I find I’m naked again. I go hunting in the closet for clothes. The cupboard thing is open, on the inside of the door is a full-length mirror, but it’s covered…in pictures of me. I back away from it as I take them all in. Me on the day of my high school graduation, me in my dorm room chatting with Sergei, me in a lecture hall bent over my laptop taking notes, me in the coffeehouse. So many pictures, and there among them, me on the day I graduated college.

It slams into me, Maxim called me Milos’s obsession. Closing my eyes, I’m struggling to make sense of this. Only I don’t get time.

“Good morning, kotyonok, how are you feeling?” Milos is leaning against the door jamb, unconcerned in the slightest over me finding the pictures.

Something about how nonchalant he is pisses me off. “All this time? You lied and manipulated me and my entire life to fit what you wanted.”

An eyebrow goes up. “What exactly did I do that was so wrong? Was it when I didn’t go to your father the way I could have and tell him I wanted you, knowing he would force you into a marriage? You weren’t prepared for marriage. You had life you still needed to live. Instead, I paid for your education, ensuring you fulfilled your dream, and waited patiently for you to finish. While I did that I paid for a home, your phone, your car, your food, everything you could need to make you happy. Was that manipulation? Or was it when I paid for your mother’s medical treatment? Or maybe while I was there for you at her every treatment where I could be, and still not come on her radar and your father’s so that you could finish schooling?”

His phone rings.

“Don’t answer that,” I demand. No, I’m tired of that fucking phone.

His beautiful face an emotionless mask, he pulls it from his pocket and answers it.

Shaking my head, I push past him out of the closet. “Fuck you, Milos.”

I don’t make it two feet before he grabs my arm and uses it to toss me on the bed. I’m on my back, watching him as he undoes his belt and pants then comes down on me. The fucker isn’t even undressing completely? “No,” I push at him. “I fucking hate you right now. No!”

One hand easily takes both of my wrists in hand. “If you already hate me then what do I have to lose, other than this hard cock you gave me?”

I’m flipped onto my stomach flat on the bed. A hard hand begins spanking furiously. I don’t dare cry out, hating him and my body for responding to this—to him.

Five smacks to each cheek, then he yanks my ass up and slams into me. Oh god, it hurt so much. Too big, too much, I’m not wet enough. I bury my face in the bed and scream from the pain. Milos doesn’t care, he fucks me hard. When he slips his thumb into my ass I moan no.

Bastard, no!

As if my no was a challenge, he pulls out of me. Oh god, he’s pushing his huge cock into my ass. It doesn’t matter he’s spent a week fucking my ass with his fingers—they don’t compare to his cock. It won’t fit, it won’t fucking fit.

Milos won’t listen. He pushes deeper and deeper until he’s several inches inside me, then slams hard and fast all the way in. A rough hand is around my throat, pulling my head back. “I fit.” He growls. “You never tell me no.”

Shaking my head, I want so badly to fight him only I can’t. He begins moving now, small strokes out then back inside. It hurts so much. I’m pleading for him to come, just come and leave me alone.

His thrusts are harder, faster, so deep he steals my breath. Close, how can it be when it hurts so much? More, please, more fuck me, I’m pleading.

Milos pulls all the way out then thrusts deep inside my cunt and spills into me. His hand tightens around my neck. “I told you, only your cunt gets my seed. And you told me to come and get it over with.”

He lets me go. I sink into the soft bed, crying, unable to believe what he did.

A hand goes into my hair, pulling my head back. “You are my wife. Mine. You belong to me. You’ve belonged to me from the beginning. Do not fucking start with this shit again. You are exactly where you are supposed to be. Where you want to be, if you would get out of your fucking head. Tell me you hate me again, I swear to you I will give you valid fucking reason to hate me.”

Letting me go, I watch through tears as he zips himself up and walks away without looking back.

There goes my hope that maybe I was wrong, and those four years of waiting meant he loved me after all. It was as his brother said, an obsession. He saw me, wanted me and believed I was his possession. The same as the huge condo he gave to his brother, like he was giving him an extra thing he didn’t need anymore. How long until I’m the extra thing he doesn’t need? In five or ten years? Once I have his two point three children? Thank god I got the birth control shot.

***

Milos

Ivan’s face is mottled an unbecoming red. “She’s my daughter. I’m taking her home with me. You’ve taken my father from me. You will not—”

“She is Nikita’s wife. His woman. He will not let her go.” I offer him a piece of paper.

“What is this?” Spittle flies from his mouth.

“It’s a marriage license. Nikita and your daughter were married the day they arrived in Chicago. She wanted to marry him before you went back to New York, she had a feeling you would pull something.” I was just glad a woman was married into this family with her being aware of it and not feeling forced—third time was it after all.

His brown eyes swim with hatred. “He took what wasn’t his to take.”

I shake my head, amused. “Says the man who handed his daughter over without a murmur. You didn’t care who she was going to, Aleksander or Nikita. All to please your papa. He’s dead now. Learn from his mistakes or you’ll come to the same end.”

Pushing off his chair, he leaves without another word.

Once he’s gone I call Valdez. “He’s leaving my office, make sure he gets back to New York without any detours. Definitely need to keep listening to him and Artem for the next few weeks or until the Feds pick him up.”

“Done. Again, I want to apologize for our failure the other night with Grigori’s man. It was unacceptable. Your expenses for the month have been waived.”

“I appreciate you taking responsibility for the failure.” I end the call before rage overcomes me.

Closing my eyes, that night is back. Seeing Celia with a gun to her head. The things she said. I knew she didn’t mean them, they were a direct negation of everything she said only a week before. I’d watched her eyes float over the desk, felt my heart attempting to beat out of my chest when I realized what she was doing. The men were preparing charges at the hinges on the door in order to blow it off, but they were going too fucking slow.

Then she did it. She was covered in blood. Blood on her hands from stabbing him in the chin. Blood on her face and body from the blowback of the gunshot. My hands shook as I saw her aim with gray eyes trained on her target, then pull the trigger smoothly.

I should have listened to Maxim and sent her away. A week or two away would have cost me, but the price she paid was far higher. Too fucking high. It was bad enough to come home and hear her so despondent when she told Sergei I told her I didn’t love her. All I wanted to do was take her then and there and tell her I lied. She was the only woman I’ve wanted for so fucking long, all the others were a distant memory that paled in comparison.

Only I didn’t dare. We still had the evening to get through. Another encounter with Grigori where it had to appear as if I weren’t marrying her because she had become my every fucking thing in this world—the queen to my king. No, she was a passably pretty pawn in a chess game. For her safety.

So she had no idea how bad it physically hurt as she babbled to herself in the shower. Every word felt like a knife to my chest. She knew Grigori wanted me dead. Her grandmother taught her to shoot. And what should have made it all better, but instead made it worse, was that Celia would do anything for me. She loved me so much she would never allow me to give up myself for her. Pride thundered through me when she called herself Levin, then another knife to my fucking cock. How sad she sounded when she whispered she wanted me forever, as if it were a dream far beyond her reach.

If she weren’t in shock from what she had gone through, I would have admitted everything then. Told her the truth. But there was no guarantee she would remember it the next day, and it wasn’t the right time. In the moment it was all about her.

I resented the call from Nikita, too damn early this morning, telling me Ivan wanted his daughter back and asking permission to kill Ivan. As I dealt with it, contacting Ivan and telling him to meet me at my restaurant, in the back of my mind I was sure today was the day I could end all her fears and insecurities. As soon as I could devote more than ten minutes to Celia—because it was going to end with making love, that was a given.

When I walked into our room, it was supposed to be to grab my gun, close the cupboard then kiss Celia goodbye, careful not to wake her. I’m not sure what I expected when I found her staring into the cupboard, but it sure as hell wasn’t her anger, as if I had betrayed her.

This woman’s arithmetic was shit. She added up two plus two and came up with ninety-eight.

Still with her mistrust, still not believing in me—in us. It didn’t matter I hadn’t said the damn words every time I touched her. Even when I spanked her ass, used her the way I needed her to believe I did, I did it with love. With the only thing I felt for her. How did she not sense that?

And how badly had I fucked up, taking her the way I had before I left? Christ, she pushed me beyond the bounds of my control until I didn’t recognize myself.

My office door opens, Aleksander appears.

“What the hell are you doing here? You should be in bed resting.”

He chuckles as he sits down in front of my desk. “It was either get out of the condo or tear my stiches again.” Wiggling his eyebrows, he grins. “I brought her out for breakfast on a date. I feel good, too good to be at home in bed with her so close.”

I shake my head. “A date, with your wife? Cute.”

“Come on, dates are important, keeps the magic alive. Father told us himself, feed the mind of your woman, the body, then her soul. Dates are all of that rolled into one. Isn’t that what you did with Celia when she was recovering? Lunch and dinner, watching movies, talking about books. Women love that stuff.”

Shit.

“Ah, you haven’t been doing that. Make new magic. Now that you don’t have to hide your love, you can show it to her in other ways.” Aleksander stands. “I need to get back to her.” He pulls a remote and presses a button with a grin.

“What is that?” I’ve never seen it before.

“Remote-controlled vibrator. If I have to suffer, so does she.” A laugh comes out of him. “Feeding the body in a different way.”

Once the door is closed behind him, I sigh. I hadn’t even thought of it. If Aleksander hadn’t said it, I wouldn’t have done it. We were married without me ever taking my wife on a date. The time when she was recovering didn’t count.

How the hell could I have not thought of it? Before I had to worry about Grigori, the plan was for me to take her out. Not dating her, she was already my woman. For her to be seen on my arm, as my woman, as a couple. Except I can see it’s bullshit—she deserved to be treated as more than just someone I had dinner with then fucked at night.

I reach for my phone and make a few calls.

***

Celia

Carina is crying as the sound of the shower running can be heard behind her. “Mommy took my phone, my computer, everything. I’m not allowed to go to school. I’m at Carlo’s and a prisoner. I can’t believe this, Celia. If it weren’t for the backup phone I had for when I was talking to Steve, I wouldn’t be able to call you. I begged them to at least let me see you, and they’re refusing.”

“I’m sorry, Carina. I don’t know what to do. If you were still at the house, I could help you. But Carlo’s place is like a fortress.” I’m pacing as I talk to Carina, trying like hell to figure out a way to help her.

“This is bullshit. You get a husband who loves you and would do anything for you, and I get a husband who told me if I behave he’ll let me have a computer. Let me have a computer? What in the fuck? This guy is Neanderthal, Cro-Magnon bullshit. He’s in no rush to have kids so he’s allowing me not to get pregnant for a few years. Allowing me?” Carina is crying again.

Crying in frustration, I don’t know what to say.

She startles. “Shit, Mommy is knocking, I have to go.”

When she hangs I’m so frustrated I throw my phone across the room. Poor Carina. Why can’t I do something?

I curl into the couch crying. Her words wash over me. I got a husband who loved me and would do anything for me. Instinctively I shake my head, only to stop.

Hadn’t I killed a man the other day because I knew he would give up his life for mine? I close my eyes against the memory of that night, instead running through what he had done and why. He knew I wasn’t ready for marriage. The dream I had of being a veterinarian would never have come true as the wife of a pakhan. He’d done what he could to give me what I wanted and needed. For more than four years Milos waited until I was ready. The only problem was I don’t think I would be completely ready for Milos. Not even at thirty-three, never mind twenty-three.

If Milos saw me as a possession, he could have taken me like one. One word from Milos and Carlo would have handed me over without hesitation. Carlo didn’t care about what I wanted or needed. Milos did.

Tears fall at how unfair it is. All that and he still doesn’t love me? There’s no way a man who loved someone could do what he did, used me and punished me for…god, I don’t even know what it was the last time. Maybe he just can’t. The same way some people don’t have the inner voice they argue with. Milos just isn’t capable of love.

Wiping my tears, an odd peace comes over me. That I can handle. Milos wanted me. The warning he gave me the day he slipped the ring on my finger still applies—give him what he needed, and he wouldn’t seek another woman out. I close my eyes as I remember how he told me later he would never be with another woman. Had he lied? Another manipulation tactic?

I’m so fucking confused. Why can’t we go back to the time after we first made love? Exhaling slowly, I realize we can—if I quit fighting him. Be the good girl he wants and he’ll give me what I want. Closing my eyes, I inhale deep. It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t love me. I love Milos, I always have and I always will. The rest has to take care of itself.

***

Celia

The text comes through from Milos a little after five across my cracked screen. He’ll be home at six thirty to pick me up. We’ll have an early dinner then go to the symphony at eight for our first date. He wants to see me in something blue or gray.

I push up from the couch I was lying on. A date? Milos was taking me out on a date?

I’m waiting, pacing the length of the wall that is a window when Milos comes home. I run my hand through my hair. “Am I okay?”

Yellow glows hot. He shakes his head. “Come here.”

A pang of unease hits me. He doesn’t like the dress?

His hands go down to my hips, bringing me up against his hard body and throbbing cock. “Okay is never a word I will use for you. Beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, some days pretty fits, but not really when it’s an adjective used to describe you.” A hand cups my chin, swiping his thumb over my parted lips and sending shivers through me. “Every time I see you, my cock aches to be inside you.”

“Milos.” It slides out of me in a moan.

He shakes his head and lets me go. “No, I made a plan. If I don’t stick to it we’ll spend all night in bed.”

“Is that a bad thing?” I ask as I run my hand over his chest.

Grabbing my wrist, he nods. “Yes. I’m taking my wife out on a date. Our first.”

My chest tightens at his words. “Even if your wife wants nothing more than for you to fuck her?”

His exhalation of air is harsh as he tightens his grip on my wrists. “Christ, I can smell you. You’re dripping wet for me, aren’t you, kotyonok?”

Unashamed of my need, I nod as I press against him. “I’m so empty without you.”

I’m backed up until I reach the sofa, then pressed down. Milos goes down on his knees. A large hand catches my chin bringing my eyes to his. “I’m sorry about what happened before I left. It shouldn’t have been like that for you. You wanted me to lose control—I did. And that’s exactly why. I never want to hurt you or give you cause to fear me and when I touch you.”

Fighting, the blush I feel coming over me I run my hand over his cheek. “I never fear you. Even when I probably should have. I don’t hate you. I was just so frustrated. Can we forget what happened?”

“We can. After I give you the orgasm I denied you earlier.” I shiver as his hands run up my silk stocking-covered legs, pushing up the sapphire blue, ankle-length silk dress until it’s over my knees. Then he slides his hands under my knees, tugging me to the edge of the sofa as he parts my legs wide for him.

He smiles wickedly. “No panties? Any other time and I’d spank your ass for being naughty. This time I’ll let it go.”

I blush like an idiot. It was supposed to be a surprise for him to find in the back of the car on the way home.

His velvet tongue swipes over my slit again and again before finally large fingers part me. Deep, so deep he thrusts his tongue inside me, fast, then slow, then leisurely as if he has all night to drive me insane. I can’t breathe when he teases my clit before sucking deep on my inner lips. He hums with pleasure, the vibration chasing up my spine.

My hands are in his hair, soft, thick silk. The touch of him grounds me as I’m pushed into orbit. Deeper, then out, sucking my clit then gone too fast. It isn’t until I’m a mindless wreck he finally sucks deep on my clit, sending me straight off the edge of the world.

I watch as he squeezes his cock through his pants. I’m boneless, but I say it anyway. “I want your cock in my mouth.”

He closes his eyes as he shakes his head. “I already ruined your makeup with your tears you cried begging for your orgasm. Which is good, it was too heavy again. But if I fuck your mouth I won’t keep my hands out of your hair, and you’ll have to do it all over again. I need to change anyway. I’ll handle it then we’ll go.”

Why the hell is my mouth watering, what is that? “I want to watch you touch yourself,” I pant. “Please.”

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. But he gives me what I ask for. I blink and his cock is out. God, even in his large hand it appears massive—his hand not wrapping completely around it. He strokes down then up over the slit, capturing the glistening precome and using it jack himself. “You love my cock, don’t you, malyshka?”

All I can do is nod, sucking my bottom lip. I don’t even notice I’ve bitten it until I taste blood.

“Tell me why you love it,” Milos croons low, his Russian accent roughening the words.

“You’re so thick it feels like there isn’t a part of me you don’t touch. I love how hot you are, burning yourself into me. What I love most is how it feels when you come inside me, leaving a part of yourself inside me. I love your cock, Milos. Please let me taste you.”

Up, then down, slow, then fast, he’s stroking himself the same way he went down on me, building slowly toward his orgasm. So fucking hot. Milos Levin, tall, powerfully built, gorgeous, is on his knees stroking his cock instead of fucking me or my throat the way I’m begging him to. Beautiful face straining as he fights for control, Milos on his knees is all wrong to me.

“Be my good girl, kotyonok. Keep your legs open so I can see your cunt. I want to watch your come and juices flow down to your ass. I love your cunt. The taste of you, how fucking tight you are when you grip my cock to keep me inside you. I don’t know how I keep from coming.” His accent curls around the words as his hand tightens around the base of his cock.

I open my legs wide, unable to keep my fingers from slipping inside me, wishing it was his cock. It’s been so long since I did this. If it wasn’t Milos I didn’t want anything.

He growls, spurring me on. “That’s my good girl, so fucking good.”

Those words go straight to my core. “I want you inside me.”

As his head goes back, his eyes close, and his throat works, I’ve never seen him more beautiful. He snaps his head back up, our eyes meet and I’m consumed in fire.

“I need you to come, baby. Come for me. I need to see you fall apart and glow from your climax.” It’s an order, in Russian. “Light up my world.”

There are no words. All I can do is nod as I send my fingers over my clit and rub. I blink and I can’t open my eyes, sinking down into the pleasure.

“I’m going to come, kotyonok.” It’s a warning.

“Please, in my mouth,” I beg.

I open my mouth wide. He gives it to me, pressing his thick cock into my mouth, over my tongue. I swallow all of him, sucking deep. Ever the perfect lover, he slides his thumb over my clit, sending me into another orgasm with him.

Milos catches me behind my neck, pulling me up to him. The press of his lips against mine isn’t nearly enough. “Perfect.”

Gently, he lays me back on the sofa. “I’ll be ten minutes.”

It’s a little embarrassing it takes so long for me to be able to sit up. And it’s only because I hear Milos coming back. Damn, he’s jumped into the shower and dressed, wearing a white shirt beneath his black tie and black suit. He’s carrying something in his hand. In a deft movement he’s down on his knees in front of me again. Panties, he’s running them over my feet then up my legs.

I lean on his shoulder to get up as he slides them over my ass. I’m not surprised by the smack he gives my cheeks. “You always wear panties.” It’s a command.

“Yes, Milos. As long as you always wear all black.” I run a hand over his chest. “You aren’t my Milos, with this white shirt.”

A masculine hum of approval goes through him. “I’ll change, while you clean off your makeup.”

I follow him into the bedroom.