Chapter 5
DANYL
Throughout my meeting with Rik, I listen for sounds from the rest of the penthouse.
Listening for her. My wife.
It still feels unreal. But also right.
“You’re distracted,” Rik says after he’s had to repeat himself, again.
“I’m sorry, Pakhan.” And I am. For more than not focusing. For not asking his permission to marry, like I should have. He has the right to punish me.
He studies me for a moment, his face still and with features similar to my own. Many mistake us for brothers rather than cousins. “I can relate,” he says, a small smile on his lips. “You know what I was like when I first met Perla.”
I do. He’d shout at his men, at me, and punch walls for no reason. The complete opposite of the cold control with which our Pakhan usually conducted business. Rik paced his house like a caged animal before he managed to convince his fiancée that she belongs with him.
Paced like desperation and desire ruled him. Which is exactly how I feel now.
“How did you get yourself back under control?” I ask. We can’t afford distractions right now. Not when we’re so close to gain control over this city.
Rik’s smile stretches into a full grin. “I didn’t.
I stopped trying to control everything. Instead, I started to trust Perla.
” I frown and Rik laughs at my confusion.
“You’ll learn.” He stands and pats me on the shoulder as he walks out.
“We have a plan in place. Let’s continue this when you’ve had at least a day of married life. Maybe then you’ll be less distracted.”
I hear him say goodbye to Liza before he reaches the elevator. Her soft reply sounds like she’s in the sitting area. I get up to join her.
She’s on one of the couches, reading a magazine. Alexei took some men and went to her apartment to pack up her stuff. He texted to say it was a complete shithole and the security so minimal he wouldn’t let his half-brother stay there. Alexei hates his half-brother.
Liza’s wearing clothes he must have dropped off for her.
She’s in an oversized t-shirt and leggings, with thick socks on her feet.
With one leg curled under the other, her thick thighs spread out and my hands clench from wanting to dig my fingers into that soft flesh.
To touch her all over. To make her scream my name as I bury my face in her sweet pussy.
Her virgin pussy.
Blyat. When she told me, I almost passed out from the desire drenching my body.
Nobody else has touched her.
When I claim her, I’ll be the first man to possess her. And as long as I am alive, I’ll be the only man to have her. I clear my throat and her head jerks, startled eyes locking on mine. “Let’s go train,” I growl out.
She follows me into the gym next to my office.
Her steps are light, cautious, like she’s preparing to run if she has to.
I start wrapping my hands, but turn toward the door when I don’t hear her entering.
She’s standing in the doorway, pulling on her shirt and blinking like she’s not sure she’s allowed here.
“You’ll have a guard when I’m not with you,” I say. “But you still need to be able to defend herself.”
Her eyes flash and the uncertainty that filled them before is gone. “I want to learn,” she says.
My pulse jumps and I realize I can’t teach her without touching her. Maybe this is a bad idea. I clear my throat. “Good,” I say. “Come here.”
She pulls off her socks and steps onto the mat barefoot.
She’s showered since I saw her. Her luscious body smells of my soap.
She’s tied her hair into a messy knot on top of her head.
And because it smells like my shampoo, my cock’s instantly hard.
I do some warmup stretches with my back turned her way to hide my erection.
When I finally get my body under a resemblance of control, I’m still sporting a semi, but luckily my loose shorts hide it, I show her the basic stance. My feet are shoulder-width apart, knees soft, hands up.
She tries to mimic me, but her posture’s stiff and far too uncertain.
“Too polite,” I tell her, circling behind. “If someone grabs you, you don’t ask them nicely to stop.”
She huffs out a breath. “I’ve never hit anyone.”
“You stabbed someone last night.”
“That was an accident.” Her voice shakes. “And terrifying.”
I stop behind her, close enough that I can feel the heat off her back. Her breath catches. I place my hands on her hips to adjust her stance. My fingers sink into her soft curves and it takes a monumental effort not to squeeze and pull her fantastic ass against my groin.
She freezes and lets out a woosh of air.
Worried I scared her, I’m about to pull my hands away, but then her body leans toward me. She’s bothered, but in a good way.
A grin spreads across my face. “Relax,” I murmur in her ear.
“I am relaxed,” she lies.
I press lightly with my thumbs against her hip bone, turning it into a caress. “Your body says otherwise.”
She swallows, audible in the quiet room.
I change my grip to adjust her arms, leaning in closer my chest against her back. When my forearms brush her shoulders, she sucks in a soft breath.
She’s definitely not afraid. She’s aware, but also inexperienced. And with that thought, my cock is up and ready to play again. I curse inwardly and lean away from her.
Breathing her in one more time, I move to face her. “Again. Hands up.”
She raises them, badly. Her fingers are fisted, with her thumb buried inside. She’ll break them that way.
I grip her wrists gently and caress upward until her hands are open and in the correct position. “I’ll teach you how to hit with the heel of your hand first,” I say. “That way you’ll learn the technique with less risk of fracturing your wrist and fingers.”
Her pulse flutters under my fingers, fast and delicate. I should step back.
A flush sweeps up her neck and colors her face pink. But she doesn’t move away. Instead, she steadies her stance and puts one foot slightly behind the other, just like I showed her.
“Good.” My voice sounds rough. “You learn fast.”
“I learn well with a good teacher.” Her smile borders on cocky and amusement twinkles in her eyes. Is she noticing the power she has over me? The power her body wields over mine?
I take a slow breath. “Let’s test your balance.” I nudge her shoulders lightly.
She wobbles, yelps, and stumbles forward, right into my chest.
My hands come up instinctively, steadying her waist. Her body fits against mine too easily. “Careful,” I murmur near her ear.
She doesn’t move away. “You did that on purpose.”
“Maybe.”
She tilts her head slightly, looking up at me with a challenge in her gaze and something softer. Curiosity.
The desire to kiss her right then almost overwhelms me, but I force myself to step back. “Again.”
I run her through the basic drills until we’re both dripping with sweat. Me from barely staying in control of my body, her from actually having a workout.
After we’d showered, separately, she insists she wants to cook a late lunch. “I need to feel normal,” she explains, tying an apron around her waist like she’s going into battle.
I sit on a stool at the counter and watch. It feels intimate in a way I’m not prepared for.
She chops vegetables with exaggerated caution, glancing at me. “You’re hovering.”
“I’m sitting.”
“With intensity.”
“I always look intense.”
She snorts. “That’s true.” She flicks a strand of hair from her cheek, the movement light and natural. This scene is not something I ever envisioned for myself. My life has been violence, strategy, blood. Watching her cook, frowning at a pan like it insulted her, does something weird to my insides.
She glances over her shoulder. “Are you always this quiet?”
“Only when I’m watching someone dangerous with a knife.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “That joke’s getting old. So I stabbed a guy.” She shrugs, but her voice wobbles.
“You surprised me,” I say.
“I surprised myself.” She turns my way, her green eyes worried.
“You were brave and smart. You reacted before you could freeze and that instinct saves lives.”
Her shoulders ease and it bothers me how relieved that makes me. I can’t afford her feelings influencing what I say. How I think. People can take advantage of that weakness. But she looks at me like she’s starving for honesty and I don’t know how to deny her.
“What do you eat when you’re alone?” she asks suddenly. And then she quickly looks away, blushing. “I mean, not that I think you’re always alone. I’m sure you date a lot and have people to eat with.”
“You’re the first woman to spend the night here. And the first woman to eat in my kitchen.”
“Really?” Her beautiful green eyes widen as she looks at me.
“Really,” I confirm and then gesture to the fridge. “I eat whatever the housekeeper leaves in the fridge,” I say, answering the original question.
“Of course you do. You have staff cooking for you,” she mutters, but there’s smile on her lips as she turns back to the sizzling pan.
“It’s your staff now, too. I’ll introduce you to our people in a day or two.”
“I don’t know how to live with staff.” Her eyes grow even bigger.
“They don’t live here. They work here.”
She sticks out her tongue. “Fine, I don’t know how to live in a place where staff works. It seems weird.”
I thought so at first, too. But I also thought living in a permanent place, instead of sleeping in a different abandoned building every night was weird.
I don’t tell her that, though. That’s a story for another time.
“You’d be surprised over how quickly you get used to others doing things for you,” I say instead.
She laughs, and the sound hits me low and deep.
I wanted this woman’s body from the first moment I saw her.
But now I’m scared about how much more I want from her. Her laughter. Her secrets. Her soul.
What will have to give her in return? Can I afford the price?