Page 15 of Cruel Russian King
My father, Grigori Rykov, drilled it into me that it was a husband’s duty to train his wife, not her family. It was all on me. Because only I knew what would be demanded of her in my world, by my men, under my name.
The same way he had “trained” my mother, Natalia.
He trained her through humiliating tests before his closest Bratva allies, to prove her loyalty to him and his faction. Each time my mother would pass a test she was rewarded with a kiss, a piece of jewelry or some expensive shit and he'd pledge his loyalty to her as her husband.
But, that was a lie.
The existence of Katya proved he was nothing but a manipulator, a hypocrite who broke every vow he demanded from her.
I began attending those sessions when I was ten. I couldn’t understand why my mother had to kneel before him on hot coals and swear her vows again and again, why she was thrown into a fighting ring against another wife, and then was whipped if she lost saying she was disloyal to her husband.
The first few times, I cried. She would wipe my tears, whispering that my father had sacrificed everything for his family and faction, and that it was only right she should sacrifice in turn.
One night, when my father caught her comforting me, he dragged me out back, tied me to a tree and whipped me until my back burned.
“A Bratva heir doesn’t cry,” he snarled. “Emotion makes you weak. Weak men don’t lead…they die.”
My siblings never knew the truth about the beatings, the training, the ways my father shaped me or our mother. I was sworn to secrecy.
I saw how my father acted differently with my younger siblings…gentler…more humane. He said they'd never have to bear the burden of leadership and that was my sacrifice to my family.
As I got older my father swore if I let anything slip he’d get rid of me and make Yegor leader, and I believed him. I didn't want this life for Yegor and I knew if Yegor failed our father would get rid of him, and Zahkar, being the last son, would bear the brunt of his cruelty.
So I distanced myself from my siblings, for their protection and mine.
Ninel had been coddled her whole life in the Safin mansion, treated like delicate glass. But that ended the moment she became mine…it needed to. She carried my name now, and with it came my rules, my expectations. She would be trained to survive my world, to bend before me the way my mother bent before my father.
Once I broke her out of the fragile mold her family trapped her in, I’d sweep away the shards and rebuild her into the wife I demanded: obedient, and loyal.
I pushed back from my desk and stood, my decision made. It was time to take Ninel home.
It was a property I’d bought six months ago, far from my siblings, who lived in our family mansion. It wasn’t only furnished with luxurious pieces from Monaco, Spain, and Italy, but Ninel's walk-in closet was already stocked with designer clothes, handbags, shoes, and perfume.
Everything I picked out myself. Why? Because as the wife of a Bratva leader she had to have the best. And as the possessive bastard that I was, there were certain styles of clothing I wanted to see my wife in.
My wife wouldn't be caught dead in stuffy linen suits that wives of leaders wore in an attempt to be modest. Ninel had an hour glass figure and breasts that I couldn't wait to bury my face in. Until I could unwrap my package, I'd dress her as I wished.
When I got to the room, I unlocked the door and pushed it open. She stood a few feet away glaring at me, eyes red and swollen.
“It’s time to go,” I said flatly.
“Go where?” she asked suspiciously.
“Home.”
“We’re not staying here?” She looked around the room.
“We aren’t.”
“Can I have my phone to call my siblings to let them know I’m okay?”
“No.” My teeth clenched.
“Why not? You can't keep me away from my family! They’ll be worried…”
“I already told them we’re married,” I lied. “And they know there’s nothing they can do about it. Two of my sisters are married to two of your brothers. Isn't it amazing how our marriage looks planned to anyone else on the outside? Besides, I told them that this little phase is our honeymoon phase where we'll get to know more about each other.”
She bit her lip thoughtfully. Then, her chin lifted. “Do you plan on keeping me a prisoner?”
