“No,” I shake my head.
I know I’m a bitch, but I don’t want to give him this. He stole me from my family. He doesn’t deserve to consummate this unhappy marriage.
But he just smirks and pulls out his cock. I watch, breath rasping in short, panicked gulps as he fists his erection and jacks it with his hand.
Oh.
He’s not going to rape me.
Relief becomes excitement as I watch his hand fly, the purpled head of his cock swollen and glistening with pre-cum.
It doesn’t take him long until he spews, coating my belly with ribbons of his hot cum.
My head falls back on the pillow and I sag as the relaxation of my orgasm pours through me.
Vlad drops to his hands and lowers his head, kissing my fluttering belly. It's a soft, lingering kiss and it sets off another mini orgasm. “Soon, Alessia,” he reminds me as I hold my breath, trying to hide it.
I don’t want to admit he’s right.
For orgasms like this, I probably will beg.
Chapter 10
Vlad
Alessia sleeps a few hours more. I stay and work in the bedroom for a while, but eventually I head into my office.
I leave the door unlocked. I have men stationed at every door, inside and outside of the building. She’s not going anywhere. And I don’t want to see her upset again.
I push back the undercurrent of guilt that I’ve built this entire operation on. It started out as a way to punish the Tacones and line my pockets. But if I’m honest with myself, I have to admit it’s turned into something else.
I would’ve said no to returning Alessia immediately for six million regardless. I am that big of a bastard. But keeping her here has become far more about my desire to have her in my house—in my bed—than it is about throwing my weight around with the American mafia.
I sit down at my desk and sort through the mail. There’s a stack of letters from Sabina. I pitch them in the garbage without opening them.
Conniving bitch.
I pop open my laptop and start moving money around to shell accounts. Dividing the Tacones’ payment into smaller and smaller pieces until it disappears into the multitude of businesses I have set up.
Then I remember my promise to Alessia to set up an account for Mika and I work on that. When the boy appears in the doorway, rubbing his eyes, I call him in.
“Mika, come here.” I beckon him over. “I want to show you something.” I drag my cursor down a long list of accounts and show the tally of $95,000 at the bottom. “You know what this is?”
He shakes his head.
“This is your money.”
He goes still.
I gesture toward my bedroom. “Money from the girl. For you.”
He stiffens and takes a step backward. “I don’t need it,” he says quickly, and I realize he thinks I’m trying to keep him on board. To buy his complicity. And he wants no part of it. “Maybe you should just let her go.”
A fresh wave of guilt rises, but I ignore it. I’d felt almost cheerful creating the accounts for him, putting the money away to ensure he’s taken care of, no matter what happens to me. I want him to understand this is a good thing. Spawned by Alessia’s compassion. “She insisted,” I tell him. “Because her brother killed Aleksi, your guardian.”
“Aleksi wasn’t my guardian,” Mika snarls.
I turn and give him my full attention. The boy’s upset now.
“No?”
“He was the asshole who made my mother run away.”
A sick feeling stirs in my belly. So he blames Aleksi for his mother’s abandonment. He may be right. He may not. His mother might’ve just been a cunt who didn’t care about her son. That’s how it read to me, anyway. But I have a jaded view of mothers. And women in general.
But Aleksi probably was an asshole, to both Mika and his mother. I never liked the prick.
“Aleksi was a cock-sucking asshole, you’re right,” I agree mildly. “But Alessia feels responsible for you being left on your own after your cell was taken down. She demanded I use her money to provide for you. So here it is. If anything happens to me, you’re the only person who can access these accounts.”
He eyes me warily, like he doesn’t quite believe it. “That’s my money?” he asks.
“Da.”
“Can I have it now?”
“No. Not unless you need it. Do you need something, Mika?”
His shoulders slump. “No.”
I study him, trying to figure out what’s going on inside that head of his. “I will give you a weekly allowance, so you have your own money to spend,” I tell him and he brightens. “But only if you do a good job with your studies.”
“What studies?”
“The studies Alessia is going to start you on.” I’m making it up as I go along, but it strikes me as a brilliant plan. Alessia is a teacher. She already cares about Mika. And she’ll need something to do here—a purpose. I’ll put her in charge of his education, and she’ll settle into her life here.