Page 94 of Ruinous Need
“Please.”
When I return with our usual order, there’s something on my mind.
“Lisette, I never asked. Did Semyon touch you? Not that it matters. He’s dead. He got what he deserved. But I need to know, so I know that you’re okay.”
She shakes her head and I can’t help the relief that flows through my veins.
“I don’t think he was ever that interested in me, really. He just wanted to own me.”
That’s what we do in the Bratva. We own people.
This thing between us runs much deeper and more powerful than that.
“Good.”
“I know you don’t like it when other men so much as brush against me,” she says, a smile on her face as she holds out a piece of waffle for Chekhov. “What would you have done to him?”
My eyes darken. “You don’t want to know.”
“But I do.” Her face inexplicably brightens. “Please. It’ll make me feel safe, somehow.”
I think about it for a second.
“I would have saved him for you. And then handed you the knife. And then, if you needed inspiration, I would have suggested that you cut his cock off and feed it to Chekhov, before leaving him to bleed out slowly through the bloody hole in his crotch.”
Her face turns thoughtful. “You really think I could kill someone?”
“You kill me, every day, Lisette.” She shoves me playfully for that. “Besides, you might need to kill someone. This is the Bratva, after all. And now you’re the queen.”
She giggles at that. “I didn’t think I was marrying into royalty. Eventually, you will have to show me to the rest of them, you know.”
Since our marriage we’ve been mostly staying behind closed doors. In bed.
I know Lisette needs to be shown to the rest of the world, as the woman who’s going to be constantly at my side as Pakhan, but I’m just not ready yet.
“What if someone else sees you and decides they want you?”
“Well,” she grins, straddling me. “Then it’s lucky that I have a big scary husband with teams full of armed guards who are going to make them pay if they so much as look at me.”
“I’m big and scary, huh?”
“Oh yes.” Her eyes turn playful as her hand trails down to the waistband of my sweatpants. “The biggest and the scariest.”
CHAPTER 42
LISETTE
“I DON’T THINK that’s right,” I frown at the way Viktor is kneading the piroshki dough.
“You do it, then.” He steps back from the bench, his hands covered in flour. He’s somehow got it on his cheek as well.
“You’re the Russian. And besides, I am a fragile damsel who can’t knead for too long without needing a nap.”
The post-hypothermia symptoms are still making me tired at random times.
Besides, I like this domestic Viktor. His taut arm muscles flex as he kneads the dough, his hands firm yet rough.
Hot. Maybe I’m making him do this just so I can ogle his arms.
