Second Best (Volkov Bratva 1)

I rubbed her through the soft fabric of her pajamas, but I knew she wasn’t aroused. I was scaring my wife.

“The only cock you will ever know will be mine.” I spun her around, and I saw the tears glistening in her eyes, the fear. Any arousal I had faded.

I pulled her up against me, slammed my lips down on hers, and kissed her hard. There was no gentleness. This was rough, hard, and I had to have it.

She didn’t fight me, and at the end, I thrust her away from me, storming toward the bathroom.

I slammed the door closed—it had been fixed, along with the bedroom door.

I removed my jacket and shirt, pressing my palms flat to the counter, and I stared at my reflection.

Why did I care if she took a lover?

Aurora was all mine and I liked it that way. The thought of another man touching her… I couldn’t; a cold rage seeped into my core. The need to mark her, to make sure every single man stayed the fuck away from her was strong.

I’d never known this rage. This was new.

I’d dealt with my anger so many times in the past, but this was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. This was a whole new level of anger, and I didn’t like it.

My reflection didn’t help.

I removed the last of my clothes and stepped beneath the spray of the cold shower. I stayed under the water for a good thirty minutes. When I closed my eyes, all I saw were the tears and the fear.

Aurora shouldn’t look at me like that.

I was aware a lot of men got off on hurting women in our world. How their tears turned them on and the harder they fought, the easier it was for them to take. Rape never appealed to me. Forcing a woman sickened me. There was no power there.

I turned the shower off, wrapped a towel around my waist, and glanced over to see the bed was empty.

Leaving the bedroom, I found her curled up on the sofa, crying.

“I … I’m sorry,” she said.

She looked so fucking fragile. My wife was not supposed to be doing this to me.

Annoyed with myself, I pulled the coffee table closer. “I’m not fucking any other woman. I haven’t been with anyone else since you.”

“How can I believe you?”

“I haven’t lied.”

She sniffled.

There was more I wanted to say, but the words didn’t come. Instead, I picked her up in my arms.

“I’m too heavy.”

I ignored her. She was heavy, but I liked the weight of her in my arms, and I carried her to our room. The covers were already pulled back, and I slid her beneath.

I tossed the towel into the laundry basket and climbed into bed beside her. Rather than wait for her to go to sleep, I pulled her against me. She snuggled in close, wrapping her arm around me.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

Chapter Nine

Aurora

Two more weeks, and I had enough of being trapped in a car, or in an office, waiting for him.

Slavik still refused to provide a bodyguard for me, so I went wherever he went. I couldn’t do anything. He didn’t even allow me to bring a book.

Boredom had become my new best friend.

Until one morning, I had enough. Rather than wait for him to drag me out, I’d made my escape. There hadn’t been a guard on the door, and I’d noticed this a few times when Slavik marched me out of his apartment.

Rather than take the elevator, I took the stairs, making my way out of a fire escape.

Alone in the big city, I’d had a taste of freedom.

It was wonderful.

No guards.

No Slavik.

No commitments.

I had his credit card, and so I did something I never did, I went shopping.

It was early, so a lot of the shops weren’t open, but I walked around, watching people while I waited for stores to open.

The moment they did, I went in and shopped.

Maybe what I did was so childish, but I didn’t care. The moment some of the women who were helping me enjoy my husband’s money saw the name on the card, they had a mini freak-out.

Of course, by the time they made the necessary calls, I was out of the shop. The clothes and shoes were all being sent back to the apartment.

Still not calling it home.

Childish or not, that place was not my home.

I didn’t know what had gotten into me. Slavik still hadn’t touched me since that night where I’d pushed him too far. When he’d pushed me over the sofa and cupped me between the thighs, I truly thought he was going to rape me.

He hadn’t.

The way he held me in bed that night, though. I loved that so much. Since then, he hadn’t touched me.

The space on the bed mocked me.