by Lylah James
I was almost ashamed to admit that I had liked it. I had enjoyed it without the effects of drugs that my husband pumped in my veins to make me feel the forced pleasure brought by him.
No drugs were needed for me to feel Viktor’s exquisite—forbidden and sinful touch.
A shameful act in my dream—I have sinned, yet I couldn’t seem to mind. When his lips met mine in a featherlight kiss, it was beautiful, and I wanted to bask in this beauty longer.
In the bathroom, I stood under the water spray—washing away any evidence of last night. My chest ached, and I closed my eyes, leaning against the shower wall.
I wanted to go back to sleep, so I could dream of him again. After our moment in my bedroom this morning, I wanted more. So much more.
After cleansing myself, I dressed myself in a similar black dress that I wore most of the time. Long sleeves, high collars, and the hem down to my ankles.
I looked like someone in the early 1900s. Those stay-at-home wives, good enough to only please their husbands and carry their husband’s seeds in their wombs.
Valentin had made me into this person—someone who once had big dreams to someone with…nothing.
I stared at the mirror and imagined the old Valerie.
The one who knew how to laugh. The one who adored and breathed dancing. Someone who belonged on the stage, dancing her heart away to the beautiful rhythmic music.
I had dreams, I had hopes…and then one night, I was stolen away.
I died in the arms of Valentin—and now I was just surviving.
With a final glance at the mirror, I walked away. My room was still empty, no sign of Igor. This time, I chose to shrug away the weird feeling in my chest.
I watched the outside world through my windows, in my room—in my cage. I spent the day knitting, and then I watched the beautiful sunset.
All the time, I was alone. Alone with my thoughts.
Alone with my fantasy—Viktor.
When night fell, leaving only darkness behind, I crawled under my covers and closed my eyes.
And in my dreams, he came for me again. We held each other, his lips pressed against my forehead.
In my dreams—in my fantasyland, he was my husband. And I was his wife.
The dream caused my fragile soul to wail in pain.
***
I opened my eyes, blinking once, twice, my eyelashes fluttering. My room was still dark, the night lamp the only source of light.
I knew it was still night…the dead dark silent night.
But the reason why my eyes had fluttered opened was because of the warmth beside me. A warmth that had seeped into my pores and made me feel warm inside and out.
My vision still clouded with sleep finally adjusted into the darkness to see…him.
Viktor, the man who haunted my dream beautifully, lay on his side. He was facing me, his eyes closed. He looked so peaceful, and his face was smooth with no worry lines.
Viktor was a beautiful, exotic man. Beautiful with a rough, hard look that he always wore. There was no mistaking that he was a bad man—not really a hero.
But I liked this villain, because in my dreams, he was my hero.
My eyes traveled down his body. He was under the covers with me, so close to me. He must have put the suit away because he was only wearing a crisp white shirt, which was left unbuttoned on top.
My gaze moved back to his face, and I couldn’t stop staring. I couldn’t stop looking.
And I couldn’t help but touch him—feel him.
My hand came up, hovering over his face but not touching him yet. My heart thudded, and finally my fingers feathered over his cheek, feeling his rough stubble under my fingertips.
I smiled, still touching his face oh so gently.
Viktor didn’t flinch. He stayed asleep. My fingers moved from his cheeks to his eyebrows, and then his nose, tracing a downward pattern to his lips. They were soft under my fingertips, and I wondered how they would feel on mine—if we kissed in real life.
Moving closer until our bodies were plastered together, I softly placed my lips on his. Just a brief touch, and then I moved away.
It’s a dream. A beautiful dream that I never want to wake up from.
I laid my head on his chest and closed my eyes with a happy sigh.
At least I had this dream.
The next time my eyes opened, I was really awake. No longer in my fantasyland. The bed beside me was cold and empty, just like I knew it would be.
I touched the spot where I had dreamed of Viktor sleeping.
If it weren’t for the words we had shared, it would have been as if he never existed.
As if he was a figment of my imagination.
But I knew it wasn’t. I knew it was real.
Every day, every night, I traced the words he wrote for me.
Trust me, silent myshka.
I held these words close to my heart, and I waited for him to come to me again. The origami was also never far from my reach. I lost count how many times I held it, traced every edge of the paper swan he created with his hands.
It made me weak and naïve—but for a little while longer, I wanted to believe in this dream.
I got out of bed and followed my day. Sarah brought my food. I never saw Igor. After days of worry, I pushed him at the back of my mind. By the time night had fallen once again, I sat on my bed and faced the door.
I waited for Viktor—just like I did the other times.
My face held little makeup; my hair was brushed neatly. I even made two tiny braids on either side of my temple and tied it at the back. It made me look younger—prettier.
Bringing my knees to my chest, I crossed my arms on them and laid my head there.
I waited…and waited…and waited.
In the silence, I waited for my hero.
I smiled thinking about him.
And then the door opened.
My head snapped up, and my heart leaped. I stopped breathing for a second before my lungs kicked into action again, pumping blood into my veins almost furiously. My breathing accelerated, and my lips twitched with the smile.
After waiting for him, he finally came for me.
The joy I felt was too immense, and I wanted to sob. My heart beat just a little faster, thudding with each beat. I felt…warm.
My eyes stayed on the door, waiting for him to make his appearance.
He did.
He walked inside.
The only difference was…he wasn’t the one I was waiting for.
My tiny smile fell, my heart faltered, and all the warmth I felt drained from my body. I was left feeling cold again.
So cold and empty.
Lost and scared.
Broken.
The door closed behind him, and he locked it. He turned to face me, and my skin crawled. I fought the urge to throw up.
In front of me, instead of Viktor—instead of my dreams becoming a reality—my nightmares became real.
Valentin stood in front of the door, his heated eyes leering at me.
My husband had come back home.
Chapter 22
Viktor
I stared at the motherfucker’s face. He stared back, his eyes dark with anger and the need to kill. He was raging.
Valentin Solonik was fucking pissed off.
And maybe I was enjoying it a little bit too much.
He came home to find his most trusted man killed. But what he didn’t know was that the person sitting in front of him was the same one who slaughtered his man.
Too bad, so sad. But Valentin was a little late to the rescue.
Holding my fist against my lips, I cleared my throat and tried to look serious. And livid. After all, Igor was supposed to be my man too.
Igor’s murder was a full circle. He was another piece on this chess game. I made a step, I moved the piece to create a path.
Not only to Valerie, but to my game—Alessio’s game.
My King spoke. I listened, and then I made my move.
He made the plans; I made the kill.
“That doesn’t even make any fucking sense,” Valentin snarled, his lips curling back in fury. I saw his fingers tightening around the edge of the table, his knuckles almost white.
I shrugged. “Igor told me he was going to see Diego for an important meeting. He said Diego called with new information about the drug deal.”
Valentin slammed his fist on the table before furiously pushing his chair away and standing up. “Diego wouldn’t kill Igor. It makes no fucking sense. Diego works for Carlos. And Carlos would never attack one of my men.”
“Just because we have dealings with the Mexican cartel, it doesn’t mean we are best buddies with them, Valentin.” My words brought his attention back to me. His eyes were furious, and his glare could kill anyone on the spot.
But I wasn’t just anyone.
“If Alessio is the Pakhan, the King, then Carlos is no less. Carlos is the motherfucking Head. The Mexican cartel is his. Hell, he rules half of the world. The Ivanshovs deal with Carlos, but even Alessio doesn’t want to mess with him. It’s the unspoken treaty between them. But you must have royally pissed him off for him to kill Igor.”
I planted the seed and watched it take root. Of course, Carlos didn’t send Diego to kill Igor.
I killed Igor.
I also killed Diego.
Two birds with one stone. And now we just had to sit back and watch the drama begin.
“Our partnership runs deeper than you think, Konstantin.”
I straightened in my chair at his words. Our partnership runs deeper than you think, Konstantin.
Ah, there we go.
The secrets—whatever Valentin was hiding. I fucking knew it had to do with the Mexican cartel. I just needed him to say the words.
Every piece we moved on the board, we moved diligently. We moved it with a purpose.
We moved it for a bigger picture.
And the bigger picture was right here. The reason why Valentin was so strong.
“What do you mean? Is there something I don’t know?” I slowly asked.
His eyes widened for a second, and then he shook his head. “There are a lot of things you don’t know and don’t understand. Carlos and I go way back. We have been doing business together for decades.”
I sat forward, placing my elbows on my knees and giving him a hard look. “And don’t you think it’s time I know?” I replied with a raised eyebrow.
Valentin lost his angry demeanor. Instead, a nervous look appeared on his face, and his eyes darted everywhere else except on me. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck.
“All in due time, Konstantin,” he said instead, deflecting my point. “Why the hurry?”
I opened my mouth to rebuke, almost fucking desperate now to know his secrets. Fury curled inside of me, and impatience boiled underneath my skin. Taking this game slowly was hard. Maintaining my character as Konstantin was even harder. And it became worse with every passing day.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm myself before I went ape shit on him and lost whatever progress we had done. Valentin trusted me enough to speak about Igor’s murder and for asking my thoughts. I couldn’t lose that trust.
Valentin turned his back to me and faced the window, watching the darkness. “If Diego really killed Igor, do you know what that means?”
His words caused me to still, and then I smirked. “It means war.”
He was silent, and then I heard him sigh. “No. We cannot go to war with Carlos. And I don’t believe this. There must have been a misunderstanding.”
I rubbed a hand over my face, infuriated with his reply.
Why was Valentin so sure it was a misunderstanding? Knowing Valentin, he was a man who would not think twice before declaring war.
His most trusted man was just killed—yet he was laying low.
It made no fucking sense.
Either he was a pussy or he and Carlos really did have a partnership deeper than the eyes could see.
“Igor was my man. But I have thousands like him. His death doesn’t cost me anything,” Valentin continued slowly.
I made a frustrated sound at the back of my throat before leaning back into my chair, acting nonchalant.
“But with Igor gone, Valeria—”
I paused at his words, my thoughts going blank and my heart stuttering.
Valerie.
Her name alone was enough to make me forget everything, whatever game I was supposed to be playing. I was no longer Konstantin; I was Viktor again.
Fuck. Get yourself together.
The Devil on my shoulder made his ugly appearance again, laughing his little ass off at my weakness.
I had spent days trying to get her off my mind. After the night I had touched her, worshipped her pussy until her come was covering my lips, I tried to forget.
I tried to get rid of that heavy feeling in my chest. I tried to forget how soft her eyes were when we had stared at each other.
I tried to forget how she melted into my arms when I gently kissed her lips for the first time.
But women were my weakness.
Valerie was my weakness.
I knew she was awake that night, awake and aware enough to know it was me touching her. Valerie had thought it was real, but then I fucked it up.
While I had her in my arms, knowing I had full control of her thoughts in that moment, I fucked her mind up.
Broke her heart and told her it was a dream.
But I had to protect her. Even from herself.
That night, I found out the true meaning of being fucking obsessed.
Because after that night, no matter how hard I fought myself, I still went back to her.
I should have stayed away, but I went to her in the morning. She was surprised, but my presence was welcomed. She was the object of my obsession, to the point that I had sat there silently, like a fucking psycho, and watched her eat. It was just a simple act of eating, but I had been completely ensnared.
I remembered the look in her eyes. She had appeared emotional and so lost when I gave her that paper swan.
A gift for my silent myshka.
After I had walked away, I told myself I wouldn’t come back. Not so soon. But fuck it, I hadn’t been able to stay away.
In the darkness, every night, I joined her in bed. I watched her sleep. I held her in my arms, felt her breathing against my neck. She would pull me closer, she would hold me to her—and in return, I would hold her to me.
We just held each other.
She slept peacefully. I surrendered to her embrace and slept too but always left before she could wake up.
I didn’t touch her intimately again. Only because I knew, next time fucking her pussy with my mouth wasn’t going to be enough.
Next time, I had to have my cock inside her tight pussy.
The need to take her was strong, but for some weird, fucked-up reasons, I waited. The thought made me smirk.
Waiting always made the forbidden fruit taste better—or, in this case, feel better.
“Forget it,” Valentin said, pulling me away from my thoughts.
My eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “What were you saying about Valerie?”
He swiveled around and gave me a hard, deadly look. “How do you know about Valerie? Did you see her?” he growled low in his chest.
I shrugged, trying to act like she was nothing—as if she meant nothing.
“I stumbled upon her room. I was exploring,” I replied slowly.
He nodded, losing the angry look again.
A deep and fruitful exploring. Just not the type of exploring you’re thinking of, you little piece of shit.
Valentin walked over to his desk and sat down on the chair. With his elbows on the surface, he leaned forward, his expression serious—businesslike.
“With Igor gone, I will have to find someone trustworthy to keep an eye on her,” he shared with me.
I internally smiled. It appears I have w
on your trust when it comes to Valerie.
“Why do you need someone to guard her?” I asked, acting curious for his sake.
He blinked and then looked at me like I was stupid. “To keep an eye on her.”
I laughed, mocking him in his face. “You look and sound weak, Valentin Solonik. Having a bodyguard twenty-four-seven, watching a helpless woman. It doesn’t leave a good impression on you. If anyone ever finds out, they would think you’re useless.”
My words made him straighten his back, and he gave me an emotionless look. But I knew I had hit the target, so I continued.
“Even I thought you were weak. And the moment someone thinks you are…weak, then you’re going down.” With my hand, I made an act of an airplane crashing down. Just for the effect.
He swallowed hard and stayed silent. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head, my words taking root deep within.
“You don’t need a guard for her. A woman like her doesn’t need guarding. We can’t waste manpower on her. Fuck, she looks as dumb as they come.”
The words tasted bitter on my lips, and my fingers dug into my knees, hating myself for even saying those words.
And I hated myself more when I opened my mouth again.
“Please tell me she at least sucks dick good.”
Valentin laughed at my words, like we were best buddies sharing a joke. I wanted to punch him in the face and then gouge his eyes out.
“Oh, she does. She’s a fucking professional. Her pussy will suck your cock just as nicely.” He winked before standing up.
My heart clenched, but I kept my eyes on Valentin. I didn’t let him see my weakness.
I didn’t let him see that Valerie—my beautiful nun—was my weakness.
I played the cards right. I became Konstantin, and I gained his trust.
“The image is making me fucking hard, Valentin. Looks like I need to find some whores and a pussy to dip my cock in.” I chuckled and stood up. “Or an ass. I don’t mind breaking and fucking some tight assholes.”
Valentin smiled sinisterly and clasped me on my back. “I’ll send a virgin pussy and ass for you. Have fun tonight, son,” he said.
I nodded, even though I was shaking with fury inside. “Best fucking idea you’ve had in a long time, old man.”