Page 51 of The Russian Pakhan's Forced Bride
Despite how her resistance feels like a constant flux and flow, I’ve been trying my hardest to stay patient, to grant her grace wherever I can, given what I’ve done to her.
But some days, it feels harder to accomplish. And on the worst days, I find myself questioning how I’ll possibly reach a place of mutual understanding with Victoria.
After we dove into our attraction and had sex, her refusal to cooperate has doubled. She often refuses my touch, and I can’t even begin to describe how that eats away at me.
Pulling a black button-up on, I do it up and adjust the cuffs while silently moving around the bedroom. After clicking my watch into place, I glance over at Victoria while she sleeps. It makes me pause.
I don’t know what it is, but seeing her looking so peaceful, I can’t help myself.
The need to be near and to feel any kind of warmth from her claws at me, and while I’ve been trying hard to ignore it, it’s impossible at this point.
Drifting closer, I cross the room and approach the bed until I’m hovering over her. I lean in, placing a gentle hand against her shoulder.
I move slowly, watching as her eyes carefully open. At the recognition, she tenses and moves slightly.
Not pushing for her lips, able to see she isn’t ready for that, I press a light kiss against her cheek. Her skin is soft and cool from the air conditioning, and I linger for a moment.
She flinches subtly, and while it isn’t a jarring reaction, it’s enough to stir some irritation in me.
Something nestled in my chest just wants her to reciprocate. At the very least, I want to accept my affection without looking afraid for her life.
“I’m heading to work,” I murmur while straightening. My jaw tightens as I push down the lingering feeling of rejection in my heart. “It’s still early.”
Victoria nods faintly but doesn’t say a word. Her eyes are on me, but she’s not fully looking. As if she’s distracted.
Cold once more…but I shouldn’t be surprised.
Before I can stew in the frustration of it all or say something I might regret, I walk out of the bedroom.
Given how uncertain our situation is and how volatile her emotions are, I need to tread lightly.
As much as I don’t want to walk on eggshells around my wife forever, I can’t risk scaring her off completely.
She has given herself to me before, and with time, I hope it doesn’t become a once-off thing—in all ways.
***
The warehouse is busy with movement as supplies are moved in and out, and everyone keeps their head down, doing what’s expected of them.
Standing in my office, I stare out the window with my hands in my pockets, watching as another flatbed rolls in, prepared to haul some of our product away. The men waiting by the bay doors motion the driver in, following a usual routine.
Everything about the business feels synchronistic. There’s a rhythm to each operation, and fortunately, it all tends to run smoothly.
It would be nice if my personal life operated in the same way.
“All of today’s shipments are ready to go…everything looks good,” Mikhail says as he approaches from behind, eventually stepping in beside me.
Glancing at him, stirred from my thoughts, I nod. “Good. I want eyes on the trucks as they head out.”
“Our teams are already on it. They’re either already on the road or waiting on standby.”
Nodding again, sitting in that quiet satisfaction, I find myself without much else to say.
It isn’t like me…Normally, I have more demanding questions or some new order to give. But as of late, I’ve been more contemplative. Stuck on my thoughts of Victoria even when she’s not with me.
“Have you put any more thought into your wife being a Nikolaev?” He asks, tone giving away his suspicions.
With a questioning furrow of my brows, I keep my attention on Mikhail. “I thought we were under the assumption the intel was wrong…she can’t be Viktoria.”
