by Jenna Rose
We spent the morning in Vegas. He showed me the sights, but I wanted to get back to his home with him, so we took a flight back before lunch.
And suddenly, I went from the help to the queen.
Anton’s home is more a palace than a house. Well, I guess it’s my house now too, although that’s something I still can’t wrap my head around.
But honestly, I’d be happy living in a one-bedroom cottage with him if it meant being with him.
Because there’s something aching deep down in my stomach. There’s a tightness in my chest—a beautiful tightness that I can’t shake and hope I never do.
Love.
I’m in love with Anton Todorov.
It’s a silly realization to have after you’ve married a man, but then again, nothing about my relationship with Anton could be classified as remotely traditional.
He made the call before we got on the plane and assured me that my mother and brother would be with me by the end of the week. I cried in his arms three times on the flight home.
Everything is perfect.
I hear the door open behind me and look up to see my husband come outside wearing suit pants and a Lacoste polo.
“Hey, where’s your suit?” I ask, sitting up.
“I need you to put your clothes on,” he says. “My father is about to arrive.”
“Shit, Anton!” I leap to my feet and scramble for the robe he gave me when we got home. “Your father! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did not know,” he says, shaking his head. “He did not believe me when I told him our news. So he is on his way over to see for himself.”
“When will he get here!?”
“He is pulling in now.”
My heart starts thudding like a drum being beaten by a meth-head. “Jesus, Anton!”
“I am sorry. He called on his way here. I have some clothes laid out in the bedroom for you.”
“Okay, I’ll just go throw on some makeup and put something on—”
“Don’t worry about makeup,” he says, slapping me on the butt as I pass him and race inside. “You look gorgeous.”
“Thanks, baby, but I—”
I stop dead in my tracks. Standing in front of me in the living room is a wolf in a suit. Gray hair slicked back over a face chiseled by a hard life, and cold eyes like his son’s. It is Sergei Todorov, Anton’s father.
And here I am, standing in a robe that is almost see-through.
“Well, well, well,” he says with a smile that I could see proceeding a gunshot. “My son’s new wife. Mia, I am Sergei.”
He extends a rough hand with lines like valleys and ravines that I am cautious to take but immediately do so out of fear of the consequences. I hear Anton step up behind me and feel his comforting hand on my lower back.
“Be nice, Father.”
“What do you mean?” Sergei smiles, almost crushing my hand in his. “I am a happy man today. My son has finally settled down!” His eyes narrow, and I feel small and suddenly wish I was a hermit crab with a shell I could crawl inside. “And where did he meet you?”
“I-I was a waitress at Becky’s Diner.”
“And you work nights?” he asks. “At a club perhaps?”
His thick Russian accent is like something straight out of the movies. I feel as though I am walking a tightrope, or a balance beam, or my feet are balanced on the edge of a knife. I shake my head quickly.
“No, no. I could never. Plus, my mother would kill me!”
Sergei mulls this over. “But you have a website,” he suggests. “You sell photos and videos of yourself—”
“NO!” I blurt out. I see anger flare at the interruption and quickly wave do and some sort of strange bow. “I mean – no, I would never! Sergei, I couldn’t. That…that just isn’t me. I promise you, I’m a nice girl. I’m just…well, I was just a waitress. That’s all. I promise.”
Oh, Jesus. I can’t take it.
My heart is going to explode into countless pieces of Jell-o, I just know it.
“She’s not a stripper, Father,” Anton says. “And if you insult her again…”
Something like a feral growl rumbles out from Anton’s chest. Sergei lifts his eyes from me and moves them to his son. I feel the tension in the air like a palpable force, and for a moment, wonder if these two wolves are going to go at each other.
But then, Sergei breaks and smiles.
“Ah, my son,” he roars. “Always a tough guy! Come here, Mia, and give me a hug!”
Before I can react, Sergei sweeps me into his arms, nearly crushing me with his embrace. He hugs me close, but I get a feeling this is all a show for his son. When he releases me, I take a deep breath and fall back again Anton’s chest.
“I am sorry,” he whispers once his father is gone. “He wants to make sure the woman I choose brings no shame to the family.”
“I-I hope I don’t—”
“You do not,” he says firmly, spinning me around and pulling me close to him. “You are perfect, Peaches. And that is why he is gone now.”
My heart is still going crazy, but I’m starting to feel a bit more relieved. And as Anton slides his hands beneath my robe and cups my breasts, that relief begins to grow.
“Now, why don’t we start where I was going to begin before my father rudely interrupted?”
“Mmmm,” I nuzzle close, filling my nose with his scent as he runs a hand between my thighs. “Anything for you, Daddy.”
Anton
Two weeks later…
Mia is my everything.
It’s hard to imagine how I ever got through life without her. How I came home alone and survived. How I maintained my mind and thoughts without her by my side.
I wake up beside her every day now counting my blessings. The angel who tamed the devil, that’s what they’re calling her. But the fact that “they” even know she exists makes me nervous.
But the news carried quickly. Anton Todorov settling down was big news, of course.
I doubled my security at the house and have another two cars of men with us whenever we go anywhere. And when her mother and brother came up from Mexico, I had more security than when the president takes a diplomatic trip across the border.
When I saw them reunite, I felt things I could not put into words.
I truly am a changed man, and it’s all because of her. Because of Mia.
I’ve done everything I can to make her family’s life here comfortable and as normal as possible. Her mother and brother don’t want anything to do with my empire, nor should they.
They have a house near ours, not as ostentatious, with a staff to help them out. Mia’s mom wouldn’t accept a driver, so I bought them each their own cars so they can come over whenever they want. It took a good week for her to even understand how the two of us met and fell in love. Her brother still thinks that I’m secretly working for Putin to overthrow the United States government.
“Ready to go, my love?” I turn around to see my angel coming down the stairs wearing a beautiful dress of sea green and a pair of off-white heels. Tonight is date night, and I’m taking her out to a Mexican restaurant downtown.
“You are a vision, my love,” I reply. “I do not deserve you.”
“Don’t say things like that.” She comes down the stairs like a princess and kisses me on the cheek. “We deserve each other.”
She runs a hand up my thigh and squeezes my cock through my pants. I make a scolding sound with my tongue against my teeth. “You do that again, and we won’t make it to dinner.”
“Mmmm, and then I’d have gotten all dressed up for nothing,” she teases, whispering gently into my ear.
Mia takes the lead and walks in front of me to the door. My eyes are glued to her hips, which sway like the waves of the ocean. My cock begins to grow, and I wonder for a moment if we should skip dinner. I fucked her twice this morning, but my appetite for her is insatiable. Surely she will give me many children.
But she is right; she did get all dre
ssed up to go out, so I take a breath and control myself and follow her to the car. As we pull away from the house, Mia leans in and unzips my pants.
“I’ve never given road head before.” She smiles mischievously. My driver catches my eye in the rearview, and I give him a look that he understands. He presses a button, triggering the privacy divider.
Mia pulls out my cock, and I realize I’m already fully hard.
“Look what you do to me, beautiful,” I growl as she goes down on me. “Put that hard cock between those luscious lips.”
I groan as she begins to suck me. Her technique has only improved since we first got together. She’s told me over and over how much she loves to please me, and I’m starting to be convinced that she was sent down from heaven to do just that.
Knowing her mouth has only touched my cock is just icing on the cake. She’s a miracle. My own personal wife, lover, a fuck toy all rolled into one. A woman I could never grow tired of with a body more perfect than perfection itself.
I press her head down, doing my best not to mess up her hair. A week ago, she would have gagged, but with all the practicing we’ve been doing, she can handle it now. Christ, I want to fuck her right now, but I don’t know if we have time before we reach the restaurant.
Her hand goes up and down in perfect rhythm, stroking my slick shaft while her other cradles my balls. Jesus, I could blow my load right now, and she would swallow the whole thing like a good little girl. She loves the taste and but also loves it in her tight little pussy. It’s a constant battle deciding where to shoot my seed.
The driver pulls up, but I haven’t come yet, and I don’t know if I want to. I’m just enjoying myself too damn much. But then I hear the shots.
Two of them, with silenced pistols.
The glass of the two front windows shatter, and I hear my men go down. Quickly, I reach for my piece and fire where my instincts tell me one of the assassins will be. My aim is true, and I hear a cry and a body hit the ground.
But my window blows out from the blast of a shotgun.
Fuck. Caught literally with my pants down.
But as a hand grabs my throat and drags me from the truck, it’s not me I’m worried about, it’s Mia, my love.
“We got him!” a voice cackles.
A boot stomps my wrist, causing me to drop my gun. I have another on my ankle, but I don’t go for it. I can’t. Not now. Not with one of these goons pointing a 9mm at Mia’s head.
“Take it easy, Anton. Nice and slow.” I recognize him. He works for Charlie, one of my top rivals trying to run drugs in my territory. I’ve been keeping him out for years. Looks like he finally is making his move. And I know why.
He saw my weakness and is exploiting it.
Tears spill from Mia’s eyes.
Flames engulf my heart. A rage unlike anything I’ve ever known takes hold of me.
My blood is gasoline. My teeth are bullets. If I open my mouth, I’ll surely breathe fire. But further action here will only exacerbate things. There’s no way Charlie has seen her. My operation is tight. The men I have working for me I’ve known for years. There’s only one move to make here to save her life, and if I’m going to make it work, I need more control over myself than I’ve ever had.
“What?” I laugh. “You’re going to threaten me with the life of some whore?”
Mia’s mouth drops. Her eyes flood with panic and betrayal.
Stop! I want to shout at her. I want to plead with her to understand. To get the picture. To play along with what I’m doing. Don’t you see!?
“Some whore!?” Charlie’s man laughs. “Bullshit. This is your new wife.”
“You mean the wife my dad forced me to get?” I ask. “Hey, you mind if I stand up? Come on. Little professional courtesy?”
The man frowns and glances at the man holding the gun to my head. There’s no doubt in my mind that if Mia wasn’t here, these two would be corpses at my feet. I could probably end them both right now. But I just can’t risk it. And as I glance to either side, I see two more cars of men pulling up beside us.
“Let him up,” the man says.
I get up and dust myself off and get my pants situation at least partially resolved. “I can see why they call you the king,” the guy with the gun to my wife’s head jokes. I simply nod and walk forward, my eyes on Mia as dismissively as possible.
This has to be an Oscar-winning performance.
“Listen to me,” I say to the man. “This woman may be my wife, but she is no more than a whore to me.”
I can see Mia’s heartbreak in her eyes.
“I paid her to keep her mouth shut. Just enough to keep her happy. But I fuck many women on the side. Other women every night, in fact.”
“Bullshit!”
“Charlie has not enough men to come at me and my father,” I growl, turning my eyes to the man who I can see is now beginning to rethink things. “He thinks if he threatens a woman I love, I will give him my territory. Let him sell drugs to children. But this will not happen. You kill her if you want, but my territory is my territory. You kill me, and my father and brother will kill you all. Our truce will be forever shattered. We will kill your families. Your mothers, your fathers, your children. It is your choice. You tell Charlie this.”
“You’re bluffing.” The man is beginning to panic. I’m screaming inside. Dying to put a bullet between his eyes and paint the door of my car with his brains.
“Oh? If I cared about this woman, would I do this?” And then, I do the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I turn to Mia and slap her straight in the face.
Hard.
The blow takes her off her feet. She collapses into the wet of the gutter, sobbing, her hair she did so carefully draped over her face, the dress she was so excited to wear soaked by the filthy water, and one of her heels fallen off her foot like Cinderella.
I am going to kill all of you.
There is nothing left to do. These men are not going to back down now. Not in front of me. But they’re not going to kill me either. I turn my back on them, on Mia, and walk away. There’s no reason for them to kill Mia, other than her being a witness to their crimes. I can only pray that they are not so cold-hearted as to murder her for that single reason.
I can only pray that she forgives me.
But I’m sure she won’t.
What I’ve done to her is unforgivable.
I knew it from the start. I am the devil, and I should have never brought her into my life.
Mia
Three weeks later…
I may be alive, but my heart is as dead as an autumn leaf buried beneath the cold ground as winter approaches.
For most women, what happened that night in the street would be traumatic enough for a lifetime. But it was nothing compared to the heartbreak I felt when I realized Anton really did not love me and really was not coming back for me.
Twenty-one days. And I’ve counted every single one of them.
Back in my old apartment with my mother and my brother, crammed into a one-bedroom studio, living the life I had hoped they would never have to live.
I had to beg for my job at Becky’s back. Jerry spent fifteen minutes laughing at me on the phone and told me the staff would be taking fifty percent of my tips for the first month. I had no choice but to agree. When I tried to get back into what I thought was our house, Anton’s and mine, the men at the gate simply waved me away.
My mother told me to pawn my engagement ring.
I threw it away.
After everything he did to me, I wasn’t about to allow him to help my life, even tangentially.
At first I allowed myself to hope that his speech about me being a whore, about not loving me, was just for my own sake. That he was doing it to save my life. That he was going to show up that night or the next night, or even the next night, with roses and an apology and a declaration of his love for me, and that everything would be fine.
But he never did show up.
And I was ca
st out like a leper. Taken out like the garbage.
After a week, I started hoping I’d wake up and realize the whole thing was just a dream. That I’d never met Anton, never quit Becky’s and never gone to Vegas to get married in an Elvis and Marilyn Monroe themed wedding.
But now I wake up every day with my mother and brother here, living with me without the money I’d said I would earn, all three of us struggling to get by in a cramped apartment, living no part of the American dream I had promised them.
“Do not think of him anymore,” my mom says to me as she comes into the kitchen. I’m sitting in the corner by the fridge where the garbage can usually is. It’s the one place I can find some privacy in this apartment. The one place I go when I need to cry.
“I-I’m not, Mom,” I lie, wiping my eyes.
“There are many men out there,” she says, rubbing my back.
“It’s not that, Mom, it’s just—I feel stupid. I fell for his bullshit, and now you and Mateo are here, and I didn’t make the money I was supposed to and—”
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” she says, kissing me on the top of the head. “We are both happy to be with you. Do not worry about money. Being together is the most important.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I sniffle. She picks up the trash bag that I was meaning to take out, and I wave my hands at her. “No, I’ll get it.”
“It’s okay, hija. I wanted some fresh air anyway.”
I try to smile and close my eyes and lean back against the cold surface of the fridge.
It hurts. But what hurts the most is the fact that still, even now, I miss him.
I miss the devil. A man who hasn’t thought of me for three weeks, who slapped me and called me a whore, who said he had many other women and thought nothing of me.
Was he lying about that?
Now I don’t even know what to believe.
The door squeaks as it always does when my mother comes back inside. But she doesn’t close it behind her. She just stands there until I look up, and when I do, I see her smiling.