by Bethany-Kris
Bloody, torn, and battered.
Used. Abused.
Betrayed.
Anton now understood how his wife must have felt when first confronted with the idea of his possible infidelity, even if that had proven to be untrue as he always believed it was. It certainly wasn’t the same thing, to be sure, but it still fucking hurt like hell.
Never had Anton put his hands on Viviana to hurt her. Never had he thought about using his strength against her to make her feel pain, or make her cry. But, for a moment, he’d wanted to. Some mafia men were open about the opinions they had regarding wives who stepped out of line. One thing fixed the situation: a bullet.
As if the woman was nothing more than a bitch of a dog that needed put down.
For that split second, while he had stared at his wife sitting on the car with the lingering taste of her come in his mouth, he understood why those men felt that way.
It scared the living fucking hell out of him.
For once, Anton understood how he saw his wife. He’d always called Viviana his. To anyone, everyone, she was his. It was just that simple. No explanations. His. Like property. The thought was awful. Even if he loved her, and he did with everything he was, he still felt like he owned her.
Brutal honesty was something Anton was known for, but this was the first time he was giving some of that rectitude to himself. He didn’t own his wife. If he couldn’t hold back the violence he felt over what she did, he needed to take himself out of the equation. So he did just that.
But he couldn’t bear to explain to anyone.
Who the fuck was going to understand?
Who wouldn’t look at Viviana after knowing and call her exactly the same thing he had, a whore?
Anton refused to see anyone at his club, also. His men came and went, but they didn’t make it beyond the downstairs. There was shit he needed to work through in his own head, and the last thing he wanted to even think about, let alone discuss, were those men and their issues regarding the Bratva.
Because the club was open for regular business, his new servers were there, too. Anton couldn’t help but watch the beautiful, young women and wonder. A darker part of himself thought it’d be so fucking easy. They’d be all too willing. And hell, maybe he hurt Viviana with the clusterfuck that was the Natalie situation, but actually choosing to sleep with another woman because he wanted to would downright kill her.
Like she’d chosen to take off her clothes, dance naked for a man, and allow his hands to touch her while she did so.
Anton couldn’t do it, though.
Couldn’t even think of another woman in a way that would make his dick twitch.
Fucking useless.
“Anton?”
Anton didn’t turn at the sound of Ivan’s voice, but he tilted his head to acknowledge his old friend. Earlier in the day, Anton finally made one call out from his club’s office to Ivan, asking the man to meet him there. Taking one last hit off the joint, Anton inhaled the burning smoke before tossing the roach into the water.
“Did you go home, yet?” Ivan asked, climbing up on the ledge to sit down.
“Nope.”
“Are you going to?”
Anton nodded, feeling the sweet effects of the weed starting to edge in around his mind. “I love that woman. So fucking much.”
“Yeah, I know,” Ivan murmured.
“No, you don’t. I love her so much I considered taking her life to keep her from doing anything like that to me again,” Anton confessed. “What kind of man does that make me, Ivan?”
Ivan stared out in front of them and cleared his throat. “That’s … I don’t know.”
“Awful. It makes me a fucking monster. She could call me any name, hit me, ruin me, and take my son from me, but that … that broke me. I think I went insane for days, man.”
“Did you get the media card I sent over?” Ivan asked quietly.
Anton felt the bile rise into his throat. “I saw the pictures.”
“And?”
“I destroyed the card.”
“That’s not what I asked, Anton.”
“I needed a couple of days to think,” Anton snapped. “Especially after seeing them. Fucking disgusted me. Everything disgusted me. She’s my wife! You could have used anyone but my wife, Ivan!”
“No, I couldn’t have,” Ivan argued firmly. “And you know it.” When Anton stayed silent, Ivan sighed. “Your mother cried when you didn’t come home that day.”
“Mmm.”
“And your wife nearly had a nervous breakdown.”
“Nearly? Shit, I did, Ivan. I fucking did.”
“Yeah, well, aside from your selfishness, you could have taken into consideration Vine is under immeasurable stress, pregnant, and caring for your toddler son alone. She could have run when you gave her the chance, but she didn’t. She fought for you—you don’t have to like the way she did it, but she did.”
“Fuck off.”
Ivan took a breath, resting his hands into his lap. “I convinced her to do it, man. Used guilt to talk her into it with Demyan, and given she was pregnant, she just added onto it herself. Another woman wouldn’t have worked, and I know you fucking hate me for it, but I needed the backup in case we didn’t find Natalie. Please try to understand why I did it this way.”
Anton figured that a long time ago. It was why his anger had simmered in regards to his wife to practically nothing at all and turned to Ivan, instead.
“For the record, I didn’t bring a gun with me.” Anton turned and moved off the stone ledge, standing straight on the empty, dark bridge. “Because if I did, I would have put a bullet between your eyes, Ivan, and I would have enjoyed it. I need to trust you to do what’s right for me, and what you did nearly fucking killed me.”
“I did what you asked me to,” Ivan muttered.
“I did not ask you to turn my wife into another man’s whore!”
Ivan was off the ledge and standing toe to toe with Anton in a flash. Both men huffed their anger, glaring through the darkness.
“Shut your fucking mouth,” Ivan hissed, his fist landing in the middle of Anton’s chest. He barely even felt it through his rage. “That woman is no man’s whore. She did what she did for you and you know it. Even though she felt disgusting, knowing how you’d feel and how you’d see her for it, she still did it to make goddamned sure you had your life. Even if it meant you wouldn’t share it with her, she still did it. Do not call her that, Anton. Don’t do that to that woman. She loves you.”
Anton felt tears slip from the corners of his eyes, but he didn’t make a move to wipe away the emotion.
“And yes, I did do what you asked me to,” Ivan continued. “You asked for a backup plan. For a way out if we couldn’t win. I did that. I’m sorry it wasn’t the way you wanted, and that I brought Vine into it, but it would have worked if you went back in. No one knows. No one will ever know what happened.”
“I know she’s not,” Anton muttered heavily. “A whore, I mean. That’s not Vine. It’s not my wife, and she loves me, I know, but you nearly made me see her like that. What you did, Ivan, it just … I had that woman on a pedestal and when she fell from it, it didn’t just break her. I’m so angry with you for what you did. You and me, we need to take some time away from business and friendship for a while, at least until I’m good with you again.”
“At least you know what you need,” Ivan replied calmly. “Whatever you want, Anton.”
“I don’t like you a whole lot right now,” Anton said quietly.
“Seeing as how you’re not behind bars, I’m okay with that,” Ivan admitted, frowning.
“I’ve been two seconds away from kicking your ass all week.”
“The first hit is free, Anton. Every single one after that, I’m going to hit back.”
Anton was fine with that. He took the first hit with brutal force, knocking his friend straight to the ground. Blood spilled instantly from the broken nose Ivan now sported. Anton didn’t need more t
han one hit. He just needed to get the anger out, the anger he’d felt was misdirected towards his wife. Anton stood above his friend and shrugged, sticking out his hand to offer the man a way up from the ground. Ivan took it while wiping away the blood with his free hand.
“Didn’t need more than the one,” Anton muttered.
Ivan huffed under his breath. “Go home, Anton.”
“I am. I need a fucking drive.”
***
The Oceana house was dark when Ivan dropped Anton off in the driveway. His friend handed over a set of keys to the house before telling Anton to get himself in check before he went back to work again.
Anton agreed.
Inside his house, all was quiet.
Anton found Clarissa drinking a cup of tea at the kitchen island.
“Hello, Anton. I guess I should say a belated welcome home.”
“Sure. Thanks. Where’s my wife?”
“Sleeping. It’s well after eleven. If you’re here to hurt her in some way, you can leave, Anton.”
Anton barely held back his shock. “Pardon me?”
“I loved your step-grandfather. Knew his mind and heart in ways you couldn’t possibly understand. The only thing he loved more than his family and his Bratva was a girl he couldn’t raise himself. I watched that girl break to pieces all week over you. I imagine something happened, and I don’t care much to know about it, but I won’t watch her hurt like that for another week.”
Anton felt a need to apologize, and he didn’t even know why. “I’m not going to hurt her.”
“Good,” Clarissa muttered into her cup. “Also, your son is in his room, likely playing with his toys again. Viviana needs rest, and that child just won’t go to sleep until his little body shuts down and forces him to. If you could handle that, I’d be grateful and so would your wife.”
Like an idiot, Anton nodded. “Okay.”
“And call your mother first thing in the morning. That poor woman is going out of her mind.”
“Okay,” he repeated.
“You can go now, Anton.”
“Thank you, Clarissa … for everything.”
The maid smiled. “Don’t screw it up, Anton.”
Demyan’s bedroom door was wide open, but someone had placed a safety gate in the doorway to keep him from getting out. Sure enough, inside the lit up room was his son, playing with Rocco and his matchbox cars. On his nightstand was a plastic cup, still half-filled with red juice. Demyan’s familiar blue eyes were tainted with the darkness of someone who needed sleep, and he didn’t even notice Anton standing just beyond the safety gate. Even Rocco, almost asleep, didn’t notice his shadow.
Why wasn’t his child sleeping?
Hadn’t Viviana said their son was sleeping in their bed?
“Demyan, what time is it, little man? I think it’s your bedtime.”
Demyan’s head jerked up at his father’s voice. “Papa …?”
Fuck, his boy didn’t even seem like he believed what he was seeing. Anton watched fat tears slide down his son’s cheeks. All over again, his heart broke. Finally, Rocco woke up to the commotion, giving a quiet bark in welcome, but that was all. Anton ripped the safety gate from the doorway when he couldn’t get the latch to work under his shaking hands.
“Come here, Demyan. Come to Papa.”
Demyan was up off the floor before Anton blinked, his little hands reaching, making grabbing motions towards his father. “Up, Papa!”
Anton cradled his son, holding him tight and saying nothing for minutes. His chest ached when tiny fists wrapped into his T-shirt and refused to let go. “God, I missed you. I’m home, little man. I promise.”
“Papa’s malysh,” Demyan whispered.
“My boy,” Anton echoed. “Always, Demyan.”
“Ma?” Demyan asked.
“Yeah, we’ll go get Ma.” As he walked down the hallway towards the master bedroom, still holding his son, Anton asked, “Why aren’t you sleeping, Demyan? It’s bedtime.”
“Papa comin’ … Ma said,” Demyan told him, his childish voice groggy.
Anton’s heart rate picked up at that revelation. Viviana had told Anton she let Demyan know he would be home soon. To know his son refused to sleep because he was waiting for his father was an awful feeling.
God, he was a shitty husband and father. Selfish as fuck.
That ended immediately.
“I’m sorry, little man. But, Papa’s home now, so you have to sleep, Demyan.”
“Sleep. S’bedtime,” his son mumbled.
“That’s right. It’s bedtime.”
“With Papa and Ma.”
Well, Anton wasn’t about to deny his boy that. “For tonight. Tomorrow night, it’s your bed.”
“M’kay, Papa.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Silently, Anton pushed open the door to the master bedroom, his gaze instantly zoning in on the sleeping woman he’d missed so fucking much. Viviana wasn’t even curled up on her side of the bed, she was wrapped in blankets on his side. Anton didn’t even make it two steps inside the room before his wife was sitting up in their bed, a choked noise falling from her lips as she caught sight of Anton holding Demyan.
“Please don’t take him …”
Anton shook his head, stopping whatever crazy thought she had before she could finish it. “He wants to sleep with his mother and father tonight. I thought it’d be okay, if it’s fine with you, baby.”
Viviana blinked, sniffling. “He won’t sleep at all. Clarissa basically yelled at me to go lay down. I’ve been up with him all week.”
Shifting the already sleeping boy on his shoulder for his wife to see, Anton placed Demyan on the bed with his mother. “He’s sleeping, now.”
“That’s good. He needs it.”
“And so do you,” Anton murmured.
Viviana sobbed, turning her gaze down to their son. Anton knew that look on her face—shame. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t. I don’t need to hear it, honestly. I know you are and that’s enough. I was so fucking angry all week, and I just couldn’t get rid of it. I was scared to death if I came home, I was going to hurt you. I love you. I should never, ever want to hurt you, Viviana.”
“You’re home, now,” she said softly.
“I am, and I’m not going anywhere. I should have called, or something. I know. I was being selfish.”
“No, you needed space. Time to think.”
Anton shrugged. “In a way. What I needed more was to calm down; I wasn’t in control of myself. Anger can be just as much a drug as it is a poison. Nothing gives me the right to call you names—and you’re not, Vine.”
“Not what?”
The word stuck in his throat. “A whore, or anything like that. I know you’re not. I know you’re faithful, devoted, mine. I know all of those things. I shouldn’t have said that word and put you in the same sentence. I’m sorry.”
Even in the darkness, Anton could see the tears she refused to acknowledge. “I’ve only been yours. I’m only ever going to be, Anton.”
“Yeah, I know. Listen, I don’t like what happened, and I’m really not okay with it, but I get it. I understand why you did it. But I don’t ever want to talk about it, Viviana. Ever. I’ve had to think about it all fucking week and that was enough. So after tonight, don’t bring it up to me. Don’t you ever do it again, either, no matter what happens to us. If you do, baby, if you do that to me again …”
He couldn’t even finish the thought running through his mind.
“Okay,” Viviana said, nodding. “Ever. Never. I get it. Is that all you needed to say?”
“That’s all I can give you right now, Vine. And I love you.”
Viviana moved on the bed, making room for Anton to climb in. Between them, their son was snuggled in tight, snoring away. Over his prone form, Anton skidded his hand along the blankets until he found his wife’s.
“But I wanted to hear you tell me why, Viviana. From your mouth.”
&nbs
p; “I couldn’t not have you,” she said brokenly. “What was I going to do without you?”
Yeah, he figured that out a long time ago, too.
“Love you,” Anton repeated. “I’ve been wanting to tell you that all week.”
“I love you, too.”
“I know. That’s what kills me, baby.”
***
Light filtered into the bedroom, and Anton groaned, not feeling as though he’d slept nearly enough. Childish giggles sounded from his left, making Anton turn to see what had his son so happy.
Demyan, on his side with his back turned to his father, poked his sleeping mother’s stomach and laughed again. Anton’s brow furrowed as his vision cleared of fatigue. He couldn’t figure out what in the hell his son was doing until Demyan poked Viviana’s rounded midsection again. Under the thin shirt she wore, tiny movement responded back to the poke.
“Demyan,” Anton whispered, admonishing his son while trying to hide his humor. “Don’t poke Ma, that’s not nice.”
He reached out to pull his giggling son into his side, then pressed his opened palm to Viviana’s stomach. Under his palm, his baby kicked. It was the first time he’d felt the baby move and his heart swelled at the sensation.
Damn, he loved his wife.
“Not Ma,” Demyan said, staring up at his father and grinning. “That’s baby Ana. Ma says so.”
Baby Ana.
Oh, hell.
They were having a little girl. The girl Anton wanted.
A girl. Sweet in pink, her daddy’s little princess, and beautiful.
Ana.
Anton was so stuck on realizing his second child was a girl that he barely recognized the squirming dance his son was doing in the middle of the bed. But when Demyan began grabbing at his groin, Anton snapped out of it.
“Go pee, kiddo.”
“Okay!”
Demyan didn’t waste time crawling off the bed and disappearing into the master bath.
With his son out of sight, Anton let his hand travel up from Viviana’s midsection until he stopped at her cheek. Sleeping, she looked so peaceful and at rest in the morning light. Anton rolled his thumb along her cheekbone, soaking in the love that still suffocated every fiber of his being.