Page 72 of Beautiful Broken Obsession

I eat on the balcony, watching with interest as the area that once held the basketball court and tennis court is being prepped for the wood floor. I’m excited to see what it will look like.

Out on the balcony the cool breeze is lovely for a May day. From below I hear a door slam.

“I’m thirty-six years old. I should be able to have a cigar if I want to in the house,” a man grumbles in Russian.

“Quit your bitching. Don’t argue with Mom or I’ll tell Milos and he’ll beat your ass.” Another man chuckles.

“Fuck off. Milos isn’t hitting anything.” The door opens and closes again. “Aleksander, finally. Where’ve you been? Snuggling up to your new wife, eh?”

Aleksander’s chuckle is pure smoke. “I had to tie her ass down to leave her. Now that she is more mobile she’s getting her fight back. Thinks she’s going to manage to live without me. I tried to tell her it wasn’t happening and little bunny rabbit bit me.”

“Christ, this is why I don’t want a wife. I don’t need the aggravation. Milos with his obsession is the unluckiest bastard to ever live.” It’s the first man again.

“Unluckiest?” The second man sounds as confused as I am. What obsession?

“I’ve heard from Pavel she’s driving him crazy. He went through hoops all these years for so long. Finally puts a ring on her finger and she’s fighting him every fucking day. I want peace in my life. Women, especially wives, bring no peace.” The first man sighs.

The other man makes some weird sound of agreement. “True enough. He offed one of his most loyal soldiers in a fucking nightclub like he hasn’t said a thousand fucking times we don’t make waves.”

“Milos cleared the door before the shot was fired. It was an argument between two clubgoers and had nothing to do with him. Containment was not an issue. And if the soldier was so damn loyal, he would have remembered the most important command when it came to Celia: no one touches her but Milos,” Aleksander argues.

Tears sting my eyes as I stare unseeing where the men are working. Regina told me to be his softness in the hard world of Bratva; wasn’t softness another word for peace? For more than four years all Milos has done is given me everything I wanted. When it was my turn, all I did was fight him.

He was trying in his bossy, controlling way. Milos told me our marriage was forever. My chest twists at his promise of following me into heaven or hell. The thought of losing him…I wouldn’t last a day knowing I could never touch him again. I’d follow him too.

If I didn’t stop fighting him, we were going to fail. Milos might never be able to love me. But he did care for me, I don’t doubt it for a second. As much as I want his love, I can admit now I’ll take anything, even if it’s his hate, because it’s from him—is him, anyway I can get him.

Wiping away my tears, I can admit I’m my mother after all too. Willing to accept whatever I can get from the man I love. Instead of the anger I thought I would feel, there is only a weird peace. The way I always knew deep down, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Milos—I’ll even live without his love.

A door bangs from below. “You boys put out your cigars. Milos is on his way. Lunch will be served soon. Go wash your hands,” Mother orders them.

All three of them groan.

Once the door is closed behind her, I hear.

“Remember, do not say a fucking word to upset her. Milos does not need anyone else adding to the issues he’s having with her. The order is do nothing and say nothing to cause her distress or even embarrassment. That means you, Damien, none of your sarcasm shit. And you, Maxim, no fucking teasing,” Aleksander warns them.

Hearing them file into the house, I take a deep breath. No fighting him. Be a good girl, give him peace, no begging to sleep in his room. I’ll work on ensuring he never wants to sleep anywhere but with me. Decision made, I push up from the table.

From the stairs, I can hear the men in the formal living room. Mother is admonishing someone for playing with Koshka so close to lunch and after he just washed his hands. I'm halfway through the large foyer when a maid runs past me to open the door. Seconds later Milos appears.

All the air in my body leaves me in a rush at the sight of him, so beautiful in all black with those eyes glowing down at me with hunger. My husband who swore he would be with no one else but me. Wait, he first warned me he would be loyal as long as—his hands are on my waist, pulling me into his hard body. I melt against him. Thought is too hard; nothing matters but him.

A moan slips from me I can't hide. “I missed you this morning, husband,” I whisper as my arms go around his neck.

A chuckle grazes my ear. “Since it was more like afternoon, wife, my apologies. However, there was much I needed to do today. While the thing I wanted most, I could not.”

Cheeks warm, I run a hand over his chest. “I'm not that sore.”

“Damn, she is a beautiful little thing,” is said with surprise from the formal living room. I turn to find Aleksander slapping the back of a man's head who looks like him in an eerie way, except he has ice-blue eyes instead of brown. Eyes the color of an Arctic glacier glint with humor.

“Blagodaryu vas.”I give him a wide smile, telling him “thank you” in Russian.

His eyes go wide. “Speaks Russian too. Good job, Milos.”

Milos chuckles. “Celia, this is my brother Damien. The one beside him is Maxim.”

I walk toward them to offer them my hand, only they both back away. Milos slides his arm around my waist, pressing me against his hard body, turning my knees weak. “I told you no one touches you but me. Do not be offended.”

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