Page 20 of Velvet Chains
Victor arches a brow, his posture tense. “And that would be…?”
Dr. Petrov smirks, shaking his head. “The Pakhan is over the moon about your nuptials, Victor. Said he’s been waiting for this day for years, wondering if you’d ever settle down and give him a grandchild to spoil.”
“Fuck off, Doc,” Victor curses, shaking his head. “He’s using his bad health to force me into marriage.”
I bite my lip, a sudden realization hitting me.
Well… like father, like son, I guess.
Because isn’t that exactly what Victor did to me? Used my desperate situation to back me into a corner, leaving me no choice but to marry him?
Dr. Petrov holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m just the messenger, Victor. But you know as well as I do that the Pakhan’s word is law. And he’s made it clear that securing the family legacy is a top priority.”
He glances at me, his expression softening. “For what it’s worth, I think you made a beautiful bride, Laura. The Pakhan is lucky to have you as a daughter-in-law.”
I flush at the compliment, unsure how to respond. Victor, on the other hand, simply grunts, his gaze fixed on the window.
With a final nod, Dr. Petrov takes his leave, the door clicking shut behind him with a sense of finality.
Awkwardly, I stand there, my gaze drawn to Victor’s bare chest. The sculpted planes of his muscles, the tattoos that snake across his skin…
Damn, he’s so fucking hot.
“Could you be more discreet when you’re eye-fucking me, little firecracker?” Victor’s voice snaps me out of my reverie, a smirk tugging at his lips.
I clear my throat, my face burning. “I wasn’t… I mean, I didn’t…”
Victor chuckles, low and deep. “Sure you weren’t.”
I start to turn away, desperate to escape the heat of his gaze, but his voice stops me. “You’re not going anywhere, wife.”
The word sends a thrill through me, even as I bristle at his commanding tone. “I’m pretty sure I can go wherever I want.”
He arches a brow, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Is that so? And where exactly do you think you’re going to go?”
I open my mouth to retort, but the words die on my tongue.
He’s right. I’m his wife now, with all the danger and restrictions that come with being tied to the Bratva—curfews, schedules, and a constant target on my back. My life will never be my own again.
“Cat got your tongue?” he teases, his gaze dipping to my lips.
I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest.
“No, I just need to get this gown off me,” I lie, reaching behind my back to fumble with the zipper as I walk toward the bathroom. But no matter how I twist and turn, I can’t seem to get a grip on the damn thing.
“Come here,” Victor commands, his voice rough and dangerous.
“No,” I reply, my fingers still struggling with the zipper.
“I’ll help you undress.”
I glance over at him, my breath catching in my throat. He’s sitting up on the bed now, the crisp white sheets a stark contrast to his tanned, muscular body. For a moment, my mind wanders, imagining how it would feel to be tangled in those sheets with him, skin to skin, lost in pleasure.
I shake my head, trying to clear the dangerous thoughts. “No, thank you,” I manage, my voice strained as I tug at the zipper more frantically.
“Obey, wife.” His tone is low, almost a growl. “Come. Here. Now.”
Something in his voice, in the way he’s looking at me, makes me obey without a second thought. I walk toward him, my legs shaking with each step.
