Chapter 11 - Irina #2
Matvei’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained maddeningly calm. “I said what needed to be said to keep the peace. Your brothers were looking for any sign of weakness.“
“So you threw me under the bus to maintain your reputation?” The hurt in her voice was raw and undisguised. “You made me sound like a prize you’d won in a poker game.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Do I?” She was shouting now, all her careful composure finally cracking apart. “Because from where I was sitting, it sounded like you were making it very clear that I’m property. Your property, specifically.”
She turned and headed back up the stairs, but this time she moved faster, taking the steps two at a time in her desperation to get away from him. She could hear his footsteps behind her, could feel him gaining ground despite her head start.
She made it to their bedroom and slammed the door behind her, but before the lock could catch, his hand shot out and stopped it from closing.
The door rebounded with enough force to make her stumble backward, and then he was there, filling the doorway with his presence and his barely controlled energy.
“We’re not done talking,” he said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him with deliberate care.
“Yes, we are.” She crossed her arms over her chest, a defensive gesture that felt pathetically inadequate. “I’m tired, I’m upset, and I don’t want to hear any more about how I’m supposed to be grateful for being purchased like a piece of furniture.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
The dismissal was the last straw. Something inside her chest exploded like a supernova, filling her with a rage so pure and bright it was almost beautiful.
“Ridiculous?” Her voice was dangerously quiet now, the kind of calm that preceded hurricanes. “I’m being ridiculous for wanting to be treated like a human being instead of a commodity?”
“That’s not what I—”
“That’s exactly what you did.” She stepped closer, close enough to see the way his pupils dilated as she invaded his personal space.
“You sat there tonight and talked about me like I was a prize you’d won at a carnival.
You used words like ‘purchased’ and ‘custody’ like I was a pet you’d adopted from a shelter. ”
“I was protecting you,” he said, his voice rising to match hers. “Do you have any idea what your brothers would have done if they thought for one second that you were there against your will? There would have been blood on the walls before the appetizers were served.”
“So you protected me by making it clear that I have no agency in my own life?”
“I made it clear that you’re under my protection, which you are. Whether you like it or not, you’re my responsibility now.”
“Your responsibility.” She laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Not your wife. Not your partner. Your responsibility.”
Something shifted in Matvei’s expression, a crack in that perfect control he wore like armor. “You are my wife.”
“Am I? Because tonight it sounded like I’m more of a... what did you call it? A business arrangement?”
“You’re twisting my words.”
“I’m repeating them.” She was close enough now to see the pulse jumping in his throat, close enough to catch the scent of his cologne mixed with something darker and more elemental. “Tell me something, Matvei. When you look at me, what do you see? A person, or a problem to be managed?”
For a moment, he didn’t answer. In the silence, she could hear her own breathing, could feel the heat radiating from his body, could see the way his hands were clenched into fists at his sides like he was fighting some internal battle.
“I see,” he said finally, his voice rough with something she couldn’t name, “the most dangerous thing that’s ever happened to me.”
The admission hung between them like a live wire, crackling with implications that made her chest tight and her pulse race. This wasn’t what she’d expected him to say. This wasn’t the cold calculation she’d been accusing him of.
“Dangerous how?” she whispered.
“Because you make me want things I can’t have,” he said, and his voice was so raw it made her throat ache in sympathy.
“Because you make me question everything I’ve built, everything I’ve sacrificed to keep my family safe.
Because when I look at you, I forget that this was supposed to be about business. ”
“Was supposed to be?” The past tense made her heart stutter in her chest. “And what is it now?”
He stepped closer, and now there was barely an inch of space between them. She could see the gold flecks in his eyes, could feel the heat of his breath on her skin, could practically taste the tension that was thick enough to cut with a knife.
“Now,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “it’s about you. Just you.”
The words hit her like a physical blow, stealing her breath and making her knees weak. This was what she’d been hoping for without daring to admit it, what she’d been afraid to believe might be possible.
“Matvei,” she breathed, and his name on her lips sounded like a prayer and a curse all at once.
“I know,” he said, and she could see the same desperate want in his eyes that was currently consuming her from the inside out. “I know this is insane. I know this complicates everything. I know I should walk away right now and pretend this conversation never happened.”
“But you won’t.”
“I can’t.” His hand came up to cup her face, his thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone with devastating gentleness. “God help me, I can’t.”
The kiss, when it came, was nothing like she’d imagined. It wasn’t gentle, tentative, or careful. It was desperate and hungry and filled with weeks of pent-up longing that had been building between them like pressure in a closed system.
His mouth was hot and demanding against hers, his tongue sliding past her lips to claim her with a thoroughness that made her head spin.
She kissed him back with equal fervor, her hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt as she tried to pull him closer, tried to eliminate the last few inches of space between them.
He backed her against the wall, his body pressing against hers with delicious weight, and she could feel every hard line of him, could feel the evidence of his desire pressing against her hip.
The knowledge that she affected him as much as he affected her was intoxicating, more potent than any wine they’d shared over dinner.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against her lips, his voice hoarse with want. “Tell me this is a mistake and I’ll walk away right now.”
Instead of answering with words, she nipped at his lower lip, a playful bite that made him groan and press harder against her. His hands found her waist, spanning her ribcage with possessive heat, and she could feel her careful control unraveling like a spool of thread.
“I thought you saw me as property,” she gasped as his mouth moved to her throat, finding that sensitive spot just below her ear that made her arch against him.
“Never,” he said, his voice muffled against her skin. “Never property. Never just business.”
His hands were moving now, sliding up her sides to cup her breasts through the thin fabric of her dress, and the sensation made her gasp and dig her nails into his shoulders. She’d never felt anything like this, this desperate need that was consuming her from the inside out.
“Then what?” she managed to ask, even as his thumbs found her nipples through the silk and began to circle them with maddening precision.
“Mine,” he said, lifting his head to look at her with eyes that were dark with desire. “You’re mine, Irina. Not because I bought you, not because of some business arrangement, but because you choose to be.”
The distinction was everything. The difference between possession and belonging, between being owned and being claimed. She could see the truth of it in his eyes, could feel it in the way his hands trembled slightly as they touched her.
“Yours,” she agreed, and the word felt like a surrender and a victory all at once.
This time when he kissed her, it was slower, deeper, a claiming that went beyond the physical. His hands were everywhere, mapping the curves of her body through her dress, learning the places that made her gasp and arch and whisper his name like a benediction.
She could feel her dress riding up as he pressed closer, could feel the rough texture of the wall against her back and the smooth heat of his skin where her hands had worked their way under his shirt.
This was madness, she knew. This was dangerous and complicated and probably the worst possible decision she could make.
She’d never wanted anything more in her life.
“Matvei,” she whispered, and his name on her lips sounded like everything she’d never dared to hope for.
“I know,” he said, and she could hear the same desperate longing in his voice that was currently consuming her. “I know, sweetheart. I know.”
The endearment, spoken in his rough voice with her back against the wall and his hands on her body, nearly undid her completely. This was what she’d been searching for without knowing it, what she’d been hoping for in the quiet moments between their careful conversations and cautious touches.
This was what it felt like to be chosen instead of claimed, wanted instead of owned, desired instead of possessed.
This was what it felt like to fall in love with someone who was supposed to be her enemy.
The realization should have terrified her. Instead, it filled her with a kind of reckless joy that made everything else, the complicated politics, the family rivalries, the dangerous games they were all playing, fade into insignificance.
Whatever happened next, whatever consequences they would face, she would always have this moment.
This perfect, impossible, completely insane moment when everything else disappeared except the man holding her and the way he looked at her like she was the answer to every question he’d never known how to ask.