“Yeah, baby, full-time,” I murmur.
I watch as her eyes light up and a grin plays on her plump lips. Those lips I know she spends a good amount of money to make extra plump—but fuck me if I even care that they’re fake.
“It’s been a while,” she rasps.
“It has,” I return.
I turn in my chair and wrap my hands around her waist as she straddles me, her big eyes staring down at me, and her small smile widening.
I SHOWER AND TAKE myself to bed. Alone. Again. It’s after ten, and I stupidly made another meal for Dominik that he didn’t come home to eat. I fed it to Konstantin, Matvey, and Stas.
I figured, since they were returning for day two of babysitting the prisoner, I might as well learn their names.
Matvey, or Matty as I call him, is newly married and is very proud of his lovely wife and their new baby. Stas is single, not looking, and has made that very clear, more than once. Konstantin is Konstantin.
I dress in another nightie, this one cream colored and also made of silk, like the one from last night. It has a low V-neck in front and dips past the center of my breasts. It’s cut short and has slits that come up to my waist, one on each side. The panties are completely sheer, but have a gold shimmer to them.
It’s my favorite nightie of all. It’s the one I wear when I’m feeling bad about myself, unsure, and unsexy. It should lift my spirits, but as I look at myself in the mirror, my hair falling down over my shoulders and my makeup gone, I feel anything but sexy and pretty.
I feel… lost.
I can only do so much from home, and after tomorrow, the few open escrows I have will officially be closed. I turned away five more clients just today. I’m not the strong, independent, Inessa Kozlova anymore. I’m now the fiancée of Dominik Markov.
People will never know me as Inessa again. I’ll just be Dominik’s fiancée, and then later, Dominik’s wife. I knew it would happen eventually, but I had hopes after Gregori died that I would fly under the radar and not be noticed. That I could possibly live a quiet life, one that didn’t involve the Bratva and all that came with being married to a badman.
I dash away the tear from under my eye and turn off the bathroom light before heading to bed. I typically would never go to bed at ten in the evening. I’m a night owl by nature, but the past few days—this whole thing with Dominik, marriage, contracts and talk of babies—it’s exhausted me.
I face the wall again, knowing in a few hours, whenever he decides to grace me with his presence, he’ll expect me to fuck him. And, stupid me, I’ll do it, and I’ll love it, and I’ll up my likelihood of being pregnant with his baby. It’s a cycle that I know will not end anytime soon. A cycle that I don’t hate, which makes me hate myself.
I just wish I didn’t have to lose who I am in the process of all of this.
I sigh heavily as I close my eyes, and I hope that tomorrow is a little better. I doubt it will be, but if I don’t hope, if I don’t at least have something to grasp onto, I don’t know if I’ll survive it all. I haven’t felt that way in twenty years, and I have no desire to feel that way again.
I blink against the sunlight that streams into my bedroom. I roll over and find that I’m alone. Dominik’s side of the bed is still very much made and very much not slept in. The ache that pierces my heart is deep. I know what it means when a man like Dominik doesn’t come home. It doesn’t mean he’s worked all night. It means he’s slept in another woman’s bed.
Making my way to the bathroom, I try not to think about him being with someone else. I know that it doesn’t matter. He can do as he wishes and there’s nothing I can say about it. I hate it. I mostly hate it, because I want him so badly, but the way I want him and the version of him that I wish he was doesn’t exist.
I want an adoring, sweet, considerate, faithful man at my side. I’ve known Dominik likes his women, which is why I knew opening myself up to him for anything other than some fun between the sheets would devastate me, and yet here I am, proving it to be true. Right now, I feel completely and totally devastated.
Once I’m showered and dressed in a pair of skinny joggers and a tank top, I braid my long, wet hair and make my way into the living room. Proof that Dominik never arrived home greets me in the living room when I see Konstantin passed out on the sofa. I close my eyes for a beat before I make my way to the kitchen to start some coffee.
“Morning, kroshka,” Konstantin rumbles in a husky voice. It makes me shiver. Man, whoever ends up hearing that every morning is going to be one lucky bitch.
“Hey. Coffee?” I ask as I watch it drip into the pot.
“Yeah,” he grunts.
“He call you last night and tell you he wasn’t coming back?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm and even sounding.
“I didn’t hear from him. I stayed because I didn’t want to leave you alone. Matvey and Stas left around midnight. They’ll be back here around eight.”
I nod, trying not to cry. I did that in the shower already, and I’m not ready to repeat it.
“I’m sure he was just caught up in work,” Konstantin says, his voice too soothing, so calm, and sounding way too much like he pities me.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath before I take the coffee pot and pour two cups. I doctor mine with cream, caramel, and sugar before taking Konstantin his black. He thanks me with an incline of his chin, and I tell him that I’m going to drink mine on the balcony. I want to be alone, though I’m not sure why, since I’ve never felt more alone in my entire life.
I sit down, my knees bent, feet in my chair, and I look out at the city. The tall buildings glisten from across the bay as the sun touches them, the noise rising up to greet me from the people and cars below. Everybody moves fluidly around me, and yet here I am, stagnant and alone.
I feel trapped and isolated, something that I haven’t felt since I was with my parent’s bodies. The same feelings I had then resurface, now. I feel like I’m dying, like my breath is leaving my body because I want him so very much, but it doesn’t matter what I want—it’s never mattered what I want.
I don’t have a say in my future, in what I desire, getting married, having a child, none of my desires are a factor in my own life. The thing that makes it even more unbearable is that it’s him, it’s Dominik that I desire, except I’ll never get him the way that I want him, not truly and yet, I’ll always succumb to him and I’ll always submit to him.
The uncertainty that surrounds me feels as though it’s clawing at my neck, suffocating me. I close my eyes for a second and inhale, thinking about Uncle Pavlov and how worried he is. I’ve never seen him like this before, so on edge, and so concerned with my safety. It’s frightening. I can feel my bravery, my independence slipping further and further away, and I feel like that little girl I once was all over again.
“You shouldn’t be out here. You’re exposed,” his voice carries. Its low and sexy, making me tingle—I despise him and myself that much more because of my reactions.
“I’m thirty stories in the air,” I say, not turning to face him.
“Doesn’t matter,” he grunts.
I decide not to respond to him. Standing with my coffee in hand, I turn and walk toward the door to go back inside, but he’s blocking it. He’s wearing a suit that looks like he’s been in it a few days, based off of the wrinkles it’s sporting and I try as hard as I can not to show a reaction to him. I keep my eyes trained on his chest, trying not to look at him in the eyes. I’ll probably cry again if I do.
“Inessa,” he says, wrapping his hand around my waist. “Look at me.”
I tip my head back and lift my eyes to look up into his. When I do, as my eyes are scanning him, I see red lipstick on his neck. My already damaged heart completely splinters into a million pieces.
“She left her mark on you,” I whisper.
“What?” he asks in confusion.
“Whoever you were with last night. She left her lipstick stain on your neck.” Dominik’s fingers
squeeze my waist before he relaxes them, the only sign that he heard me as his face stays the exact same. Cold and impassive. “Can I go inside now?”
“Yeah, go,” he grunts as he releases me and steps to the side.
As I walk inside, I don’t slam the door behind me like I want to. Instead, I close it gently and I take my coffee to my sink and pour it down the drain. The sweet drink no longer holds any appeal.
I notice that Konstantin is no longer here, and I assume this means that Dominik will stay until Matty and Stas come over. I decide to take a moment and put some dishes in my dishwasher. When I’m just finishing up, Dominik joins me in my kitchen. I turn around to face him and see that he’s resting a hip against my counter, his arms folded across his chest, his eyes focused on me, and his legs crossed. Damn, he looks so fucking seductive.
“The contract has been voided between Larisa and me. I contacted the judge that married Yakov and Ashley and he has agreed to marry us early Friday morning. You have two days to find something suitable to wear. I’ll inform Pavlov so that he can be in attendance. Is there anybody else you wish to have there?” he asks. He’s acting as though he’s asking me about a dinner party and not a wedding.
“No, just Uncle Pavlov is fine,” I whisper.
“You can invite anybody, Inessa. Any girlfriends you have,” he says. His voice drops and softens. It’s so sweet that I want to love how he sounds right now, but I can’t.
“I don’t have any friends,” I admit.
“We’ll do dinner at the Oleandr afterward,” he says. I nod.
“I’m sure I have something in my closet that’s suitable,” I say.
“Go out and buy something. No worry on the cost.”
I shake my head and look off to the side, my eyes catching his neck, and my gaze staying right there.
“Inessa, no worry on the cost. Go shopping, yeah?”
“I don’t want to go shopping. I have something. It will be fine,” I mutter, trying to hold myself together so I don’t cry. My eyes stay glued to the smeared lipstick still on his neck.
“I have to take a shower and get back to the office. You need to start packing. You’re moving in with me next week. I can’t live out of a suitcase,” he grunts.
“I own this apartment. I can’t just abandon it,” I explain.
“Better list it, then,” he announces as he walks away from me.
I stand in the kitchen in shock before I shake myself out of it and march after him. Screw him.
“Why? Why would I do that?” I ask him as I walk into the bedroom. He’s got his shirt off and his belt buckle undone.
“Because we’re getting married on Friday, and we are not going to live separately.”
My entire body stiffens and my eyes narrow on him. I’ve had enough. I don’t know how much more I can take, but today, I can take no more. I’ve been feeling lost and defeated, but right now, with that lipstick staring me in the face, and him not giving a flying rip if I see it—I. Can. Take. No. More.
“Why not? You can have your women at your place and then come over here when you feel the need to fuck your wife. I can do my own thing and not have to see you come in at odd hours of the day. It’s a win-win. Just, please, before you come to my bed, can you wash the lipstick and pussy from the girl before off of you,” I shout.
Dominik stares at me in surprise, his mouth hanging open slightly, confusion marring his features. If I weren’t so hurt, pissed off, and downright sad and broken by him, I would say that he looks cute when he’s bewildered.
“You’re lucky I don’t have a trigger temper,” he says, his voice deep and rumbly.
“Might as well. We’re not even married and you’re fucking other women while you’re trying to impregnate me. You’re keeping me a prisoner in my own home, and you’ve basically declared that I’m no longer allowed to work, ruining my career and all of the long hours and hard work I’ve put into it. Might as well slap me around a little, too.”
“Inessa,” he warns.
I shake my head.
“I hate you, Dominik. You’ve ruined me, completely and totally. There’s nothing fucking left of me now,” I whisper as tears fill my eyes. He takes a step toward me, and I take a shaky step back. “Don’t touch me.”
“Inessa?” Matty asks at the doorway to our room.
“Be ready Friday at ten in the morning,” Dominik announces before he slides his shirt back on and then stomps out of the room, clipping his shoulder against Matty’s as he goes, slamming my front door.
“Are you okay?” Matty asks gently.
“I’ll be fine,” I whisper.
I take myself back to bed, secure in the knowledge that Matty and Stas are here for protection from the boogieman. I close my eyes as the tears leak onto my pillow and I fall asleep. I stay in bed for days, until I’m no longer allowed to.
I stay in bed until my wedding day.
Wedding.
What a freaking sham.
Guilt.
Remorse.
Shame.
Regret.
No matter the word, my feelings are the same. Once I was a boy who turned into a man who felt nothing. I’ve been to prison. I’ve killed. I’ve maimed. I’ve tortured. Not once have I felt an ounce of anything for my doings.
Not until I watched the strongest woman I have ever known completely give up right before my eyes. Sure she gave me a little piece of her mind when she did, but it was nothing like I’m used to. I broke her. Shattered her.
For what?
I can tell myself that keeping her locked in her house was a safety precaution all day long, but I know the truth of it. The truth being, I wanted to keep her as mine. I want to give her everything, so that she doesn’t have to work anymore. I don’t want men flirting with her, or her flirting back to earn a commission. She’s mine, and she just plain should not work. She’s a Brigadier’s wife.
Alla was a mistake. I knew it the second she walked into my office, but I didn’t stop her. I let her kiss my neck, let her run her hands over my body as she ground her pussy against my pants. Then, when her fingers went to my belt, I finally stopped her.
I didn’t fuck her.
I couldn’t.
Something stopped me.
Maybe it was the fact that I knew it would hurt Inessa; but I hurt her anyway by letting her believe I’d fucked someone else. There’s something wrong with me. Something broken inside of me. Maybe I should just let her live her life in her apartment without me.
Fuck.
“You’re a fucking mess,” a voice rumbles from the doorway to my office.
I take another shot of vodka before I look up and see not only Konstantin, but Yakov as well, standing there, staring at me.
“You wanted Inessa as your own, now you stay here instead of going home to her?” Yakov asks as they walk further into the room and close the door behind them.
“Inessa found Alla’s lipstick on my neck,” I shrug, taking another shot of vodka.
“That explains why she hasn’t left her bed in two days,” Konstantin mutters. My eyes shoot up to meet his.
“Two days?” I croak.
“Two days. She hasn’t left her bed or eaten,” he shrugs. “She keeps getting client calls but tells me to forward them to her assistant. I’m getting pretty fucking tired of playing answering machine.”
I stare past them and at the wall. I’ve wondered how she’s gotten along the past few days, but I’ve been too chicken shit to ask. I’ve felt too goddamn guilty over everything.
“I sent Ashley over there today to help her with things for tomorrow morning, but what are you going to do to fix this? You’re drunk off your ass and she’s catatonic,” Yakov states.
I shrug.
It seems to be my only answer.
“What is the point of marrying her if this is how you’re to be? You should have just sealed the deal with Larisa,” Yakov announces. I growl.
“I’d never marry that cunt,” I spit.
/> “But you’ll ruin a good woman?” he asks, arching a brow.
Fuck.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
“Fix your fucking shit, Dominik. I’ll not say it again. Quit being a goddamn pussy when it comes to Inessa, or when it comes to women in general. How can you run these whores when you can’t run your own household?” he asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer before he turns and leaves.
I bury my face in my hands for a beat before I lift them and realize that Konstantin is still in the room, his legs spread and planted, his arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes narrowed on me.
“What?” I ask.
“Do you really want to know?”
“I do,” I urge.
“You don’t deserve her, but for whatever reason, she has feelings for you. One night with me and she’d forget your name. Remember that while you fuck these whores,” he states. I stand unsteadily on my feet and launch after him.
I reach him, my hand curled in his jacket lapels and my nose inches from his, almost touching before I speak.
“You even think about her, and I’ll fucking kill you. You’ll suffer, and you’ll know torment like you could never imagine. Inessa is mine. Fucking mine,” I shout.
“Then you should take better care of what’s yours,” he barks before he pushes my hands off and walks away from me.
I drunkenly stumble back, and my ass lands on the edge of my desk. I close my eyes and I decide right here and now—enough is e-fucking-nough.
I STAND AT MY bathroom mirror. I look pale and tired, a little gaunt, and a lot a hot freaking mess. It doesn’t matter, though. Today is my wedding day. I should be excited about that, not dreading it the way that I am. Ashley came over yesterday and helped me pick something suitable to wear from my closet.
I pull the skintight bodycon dress over my frame, adjusting the thin spaghetti straps before I look at myself in the mirror. The dress is an extremely pale pink, with scalloping just at the deep v. There is no room for panties with it, as it’s so tight I’m afraid to simply breathe, let alone don undergarments.
Tempting the Badman (Russian Bratva #5) Page 12