Page 16 of Cruel Russian King
“You’re mywife, not a prisoner.”
She let out a humorless laugh. “You kidnapped me, forced me to marry you, locked me in a room. What would you call that?”
“Protecting my investment, the mother of the next heir to the Rykov faction.” My eyes darkened. “And if I find out you’ve reached out to your family, or mine, you’ll find out exactly how different I am from Lev and Jaroslav. They’re ruled by their wives. I’m not. You will obey me as a Bratva wife should. Do you understand?”
“And if I don’t?” she shot back.
I stalked towards her. I watched as her body tensed but she didn't step back, she held her ground. I stopped in front of her and grabbed her chin. Her breathing hitched and her pupils dilated.
“Then I put you in the basement, with a mouldy mattress, a flickering bulb and rats. Obey, pledge your loyalty to me and my faction and you’re treated well. Disobey, and dishonor my name and I will punish you.”
My knuckles brushed against her cheek. “It would be a shame to bruise skin as soft as yours.”
She flinched and the light in her eyes dimmed. She stepped out of my touch and my hand fell to my side.
“So,” I said, “are you going to obey?”
“Yes.”
“Smart, printessa.”
I offered her my elbow. She hesitated, then slid her hand through the crook of my arm. Outside, one of my men opened the SUV door. I guided her in and settled beside her. There were no handles in the back, so there was no way she’d get out before we reached home.
I took her hand in mine. She flinched and tried to pull away but I held it a little tighter. Enough to remind her that testing me in front of my men would come at a cost.
Turning her palm over, I saw the angry scratches. My brows furrowed. They were probably from her attempts at the windows. My thumb caressed them, watching goosebumps ripple along her arm, her breath hitching with each pass.
For the twenty-minute drive, she said nothing. Her eyes stayed fixed on the passing trees, her hand still trapped in mine, and I found myself watching every twitch, every flicker of herlashes, savoring how my touch controlled how slow or fast her chest rose and fell.
By the time we passed the gates of the compound, manned by four guards armed with high-powered rifles, her eyes widened at what lay beyond, ignoring my touches. My jaw clenched and I dropped her hand.
On one side of the winding driveway was a crystal-clear pond where two swans glided gracefully, and on the other, manicured gardens dotted with marble benches and ornate wrought-iron picnic tables beneath perfectly pruned trees.
The mansion itself was a two-story structure. Two towering Corinthian pillars framed the main entrance, leading up a sweeping staircase to massive double doors. Balconies crowned the upper floor, offering panoramic views of the estate.
Behind the house, a hand-carved stone and steel a gazebo sat among a meticulously landscaped lawn, while the flat for my guards overlooked the property, with surveillance equipment tucked discreetly into the architecture to monitor every inch of the compound.
When the vehicle stopped, my door was opened. I stepped out and then offered a hand to Ninel. She faked a smile as she slipped her tiny hand into mine once again. It was important for my men to see her under my control. I led her through the front doors and straight to our bedroom, closing the door behind us.
“You must be hungry. Take a shower and change.” I pointed to her walk-in closet. “Everything you'll need is in there. I'll get you something to eat.”
“If I'm sleeping in here, where are you going to sleep?” she asked, her voice uncertain.
“You are my wife and I'll sleep where my wife sleeps.”
This time when her eyes widened I saw fear in it. “Fornow, we'll just sleep. I'll give you time to adjust to our home.”
Weak! A pakhan would claim what is his! Her body belongs to you, Artie.
I shoved the voice to the back of my mind as I watched the tension in her body ease a fraction.
“Now, go find something short to change into. I've already placed the shampoo and bodywash I want you to use in the bathroom. I'll wait here for you.”
I sat back in one of the armchairs, watching as she disappeared into the closet and returned with clothing in hand. Thirty minutes later, the vanilla shampoo and bodywash that Ninel used danced along the borders of my nostril. I'd order her something nice, maybe a necklace or a bracelet.
We sat at the dinner table in silence. The bubbly Ninel I’d gotten to know, was replaced by a quiet, guarded version of herself. I watched as she pushed dinner around her plate, not even eating half of what she was given. Today, I'd allow it.
After dinner, I excused myself and went to the home office while she retired for the night.
