Without Remorse

Irina stepped up and Natasha proceeded to point out where blows were safe to land, on the upper back and buttocks. Then they moved on to learning beginning flogger patterns, which they lined up and practiced on the backs of chairs. Natasha moved amongst them and corrected their posture and form.

They worked at it for an hour and a half and were just finishing up and the girls who were on shift were moving to go get dressed for their lunch shift when Papa showed up.

“What is this, all my beauties on display so early in the morning and no one tells me?” He held his arms open expansively as he walked in. “You.” He pointed to one girl and crooked his finger. She immediately came forward. “And you. No, not you, the pretty one. Yes, you. Get that gorgeous ass over here and sit on Papa’s lap.”

“Come on,” Alexei said, coming up to Nicholas. “That’s my cue to leave. Let’s get some lunch.”

Nicholas nodded, forcing himself to keep his face neutral as Papa manhandled the two women the second they came near him, grabbing one and roughly pulling her onto his lap and slinging his arm around the other one, fondling her ass.

Alexei rarely wanted to be where his father was these days, and Nicholas couldn’t say he wasn’t also glad for the escape. Papa Vasiliev’s personal habits were… well, not his to judge. The rich did what the rich always did. He and his wife had a roof over their heads and he had a good job. That was all that was important.

Alexei was silent as they walked the block back to the café and Nicholas didn’t press him. Alexei was his boss, yes, but they’d also grown up as teenagers together, and Nicholas thought sometimes they were something akin to friends. Not that he’d ever presume to say that out loud.

But he knew Alexei well enough to understand his moods. And he could sense more often lately that his father’s behavior bothered him. It seemed like there’d been a change. Papa used to be so careful but it was as if in recent years he’d decided he was untouchable. Alexei wasn’t the only one alarmed by it.

If he kept up like this—

Nicholas froze in his tracks, all thought suddenly obliterated by the sight in front of him.

They’d just pushed open the door to the café. And there, behind the counter, was his wife. She was dressed. In actual clothes that weren’t pajamas. And she was chatting animatedly with Babulya, a wide smile on her face.

It hit Nicholas in the guts, seeing that smile. He’d all but forgotten what it looked like, and Jesus fuck, she was beautiful when she smiled. Her hair was tied back in a long braid, but tufts of it still escaped around her face. Even without any make-up her face glowed. Her youth and natural beauty shined through.

She was the woman he’d met that first night and had impossible thoughts about.

Nicholas wanted to stomp around the counter, yank her up into his arms, and claim her as his own.

“What are you doing here,” he barked instead.

Her eyes flashed with surprise at his voice, and then he watched as her chin notched higher and she stood up straighter. “Working. I got a job. What’s it to you?”

Chapter 17

SLOANE

Babulya only smiled on in amusement and put a hand on Sloane’s arm.

“I’ll just go check on the cakes in the back, dear.” And then she disappeared to the back, leaving Sloane to stand by herself.

The woman had been nothing but kind and Sloane couldn’t blame her for wanting to leave this between a man and his “wife” to work out, but she felt a bit bereft left to face off against Nicholas all alone.

Sloane’s chin lifted even higher, bracing herself for whatever he might say next.

“You should have asked my permission,” he said, advancing on the counter.

His permiss—

The misogynistic asshole. She scoffed. “Are you being serious right now?”

He leaned over the counter. “Entirely. This is not your world and you do not know the rules here.”

“So I’m a prisoner after all?” she hissed, throwing the towel she’d been rubbing down the counter with. “You just want to lock me away in that room and throw away the key?”

His face clouded over. “Well I thought, with your condition…”

God, he’d been counting on it. Her mouth dropped open. He must’ve thought he hit the jackpot when he found out about her phobia. That was so fucking messed up.

“I was happy back in Oklahoma because I found ways to live a whole, full life in spite of my disability, but you took all that away and—”

“You call selling your body and servicing men all day a life—”

“At least I was the one making my own decisions! I didn’t have to ask anyone for permission. I wasn’t a fucking prisoner—”