Letting out a slow breath, I ran a hand through my hair. Fuck. I was married. It was still hard to believe, especially after I had sworn off tying myself to any woman for the foreseeable future. Of course, having the opportunity to wed Sveta had been an option that I couldn’t turn away.
Now look where it had gotten me, a cruel twist of fate that had fucking backfired in my face.
Shaking my head, I turned back to the house. I would have to figure out how to live with a woman that wasn’t the woman I wanted to be with, to continue to hide her identity from everyone so that I wouldn’t lose everything I had planned.
Vera wanted me to love Naomi, a very dangerous woman not only to my livelihood but to everything I wanted to achieve.
It wouldn’t have been the first time that I had loved a dangerous woman and nearly lost everything.
With a growl, I stalked back into the house and to my suite, finding the rooms empty. The only proof that Naomi had been there was the mussed comforter on my bed and the faint scent of vanilla in the air. I didn’t know now how I ever thought that she was Sveta. All the signs pointed to something being wrong with Sveta, and now that I knew the truth, all the pieces fell into place.
Now I had to deal with my own fucking consequences.
Later that night, after I couldn’t go to sleep, I looked up Naomi, finding a long list of social media posts and even her blog. Every moment of her life, she had documented, clearly one of those up-and-coming influencers that LA thrived on. I flipped through her pictures, finding a smiling woman in various establishments around the city, some with her arms around famous shoulders that resided in LA.
What I didn’t see was the same person twice, either male or female. It was apparently clear that she didn’t have a large group of friends, which boded well for me. No one would be looking for her, expecting her to be somewhere she wasn’t. Sure, people would wonder why her social media channels had gone dark suddenly, but if it was anything like the rest of LA, they would chalk her up as a passing fancy and move on to someone else.
Sitting back in my chair, I stared at the screen, contemplating my next steps. I couldn’t just ignore her now. Nor could I hope that I had knocked her up with our tryst tonight, completing my mission.
I also needed to remind myself that Naomi Spencer didn’t exist in my world. She was Sveta, Sveta Kirilenko, wife to the most powerful man in LA, and anytime we were out in public or around my staff, I would call her that.
I shut down my computer and climbed into my bed, staring up at the ceiling. I had a fucking wife. I could go to her room right now and fuck her senseless or until I fell asleep, and no one would care. I could do anything I wanted to, and she would have to comply with my every wish. The very thought had me reaching for my cock, finding it hard and ready for another round.
Gripping it lightly, I stroked the soft flesh. I wouldn’t go back to her tonight. I would let Naomi get used to her new role and the shit storm she had caused for me before I would visit her again, ensuring that she knew what her role was and what my plans entailed. I did plan to get her pregnant, not as Naomi but as Sveta.
The familiar pull on my groin started to build and I groaned, my hand moving faster now. I hadn’t been this hard or had this much need in a long time, longer than I cared to admit. My dalliances were few and far between, but none had put me in this situation before.
“Fuck,” I whispered as I felt the pressure build, smearing the pre-cum on the head as I moved my hand over it. When my orgasm did hit, it came with a vengeance, spurting out all over my hand and onto the comforter.
If this was any indication of what was to come, I was going to like this marriage business.