Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
The distance between us seems to shake Nikolai back to his senses, and he walks ahead of us, leaving Mischa and me to trail behind. Mischa doesn’t look at me, and for that, I am grateful. I would do well to burn from my memory the night I offered him my virtue. But the shame is not only mine to bear. I’m certain Mischa will most likely remember it for eternity.
The men at the door stop us and exchange greetings, once again reminding me of my insignificance in this Vory world. I am not a wife or even a girlfriend, and therefore, I’m fair game for their wandering eyes.
Inside, Viktor and his daughter are quick to greet us. He seems to be in a jovial mood, but Ana’s face is quick to fall, and her father is quick to notice.
“You are wearing red,” Viktor notes, his eyes observing Nikolai’s tie.
Nikolai answers in Russian, blaming Mischa for the mix-up, but it does little to soothe Ana’s unhappiness. I didn’t notice it before, or perhaps I just assumed it was themed. Mischa and Nikolai are both wearing red ties, and I am wearing a red dress. Viktor does not seem to think it’s a coincidence as his eyes move from Nikolai to me, his lip curling in disgust. He says he would like to speak to Nikolai in private, and they disappear down the hall.
When we are called to dinner minutes later, it seems the issue has been settled for the time being. Viktor returns as his celebratory self, one arm around Ana and the other around Nikolai.
Mischa and I sit farther down the table, away from the soon-to-be newlyweds. I focus on the food served and busy myself with trying to identify each dish. It’s a feast consisting of Russian traditional foods and delicacies. A few of which I’ve come to know in my time at Nikolai’s, but most of which I’m yet to learn.
The meal is not as appealing as it should be. I spend most of the time pushing food around on my plate and trying to divert my attention from the other end of the table. On more than one occasion, I feel Nikolai’s eyes on me, but I don’t dare look up. With certainty, he will want to punish me for not eating, but with certainty, I don’t care.
When the plates are cleared, the group is ushered into another room for drinks and conversation. Mischa and I remain at each other’s side, wordless. But it isn’t long before Nikolai is making a fly by, issuing an order.
We are to meet him near the bathrooms in five minutes.
My limbs are stiff, and I get the distinct feeling that I’m walking the plank as we travel down the hall. Mischa, too, seems nervous, and when Nikolai arrives to meet us, words are exchanged between them.
I can only catch some of the conversation in their native language since they are speaking so fast. But from the gist of it, I understand two things. One is that Mischa thinks Nikolai is being an idiot, and the second is that Nikolai is in charge, so it doesn’t matter what Mischa thinks.
Nikolai issues him another order to stand guard outside the door, and then he is manhandling me inside. The lock clicks behind us, and I try to move away. I make it two steps before he has me trapped in his grip again.
“Why are you making this harder than it has to be?” he demands.
“I haven’t done anything,” I snap. “You are just angry because you can’t control this situation—”
His lips swallow the rest of my words. The kiss is violent and possessive, and his hold on me is brutal. In seconds, he wrecks the style I spent an hour perfecting when his fingers tangle in my hair. I should care that he’s acting like a child, but relief is all I feel.
He wants me and not her.
“Tell me you belong to me,” he whispers. “And I’ll fuck you sweet.”
I close my eyes and breathe him in. Cloves and smoke and danger. He has taken so much from me already, but it isn’t enough. He wants everything, and he won’t settle until he has my soul too. But I refuse to cave on this. I refuse to give him everything when I’m the one who loses in the end.
When he recognizes the rejection on my face, his eyes flash, and he forces me to my knees.
“Have it your way, then. I’ll fuck you dirty, pet.”
He unzips his pants and tugs me forward by his hold on my hair, rubbing my face against the bulge in his briefs. He is brick hard already, and there is a small damp spot where his pre-cum has leaked out. Evidence that he’s been thinking about this since dinner.