Chapter 9 First Initiative
ROSIE
The penthouse is quiet when we get home.
Alexei turns on the low lamp in the living room, the one that makes the whole space feel amber and soft, and I kick off my heels at the door and just stand there for a second, feeling the cold floor under my feet, feeling the weight of the evening settle into my bones.
"Drink?" he asks.
"Water," I say. "Please."
He goes to the kitchen.
I walk to the window.
The city is still out there, all glittering indifference, towers of light stacked against the dark sky.
Somewhere down there is my father, drunk, crumpled envelope in hand, looking for someone to save him.
The way he's always been looking my whole life. But nobody can save him from himself. And I refuse to help him carry the burden he’ll never even partly pick up.
I press my forehead against the glass. It's cold, which helps calm my racing mind.
I keep thinking about what he said. Trophy wife. It's thanks to me you're here. Like he handed me a gift instead of a leash.
And the worst part, the part that makes my chest ache, is that six months ago, I would have turned myself inside out to find a way to give him money. I would have gone home sick with guilt and convinced myself that's just how family works.
I don't feel guilty tonight. I feel something else entirely. Something harder and cleaner, and sadder.
I feel like I've finally stopped waiting for him to turn into the father I hoped he would be, but was never within his capability.
"Here." Alexei's voice is close. I turn to find him beside me, a glass of water in his outstretched hand. His jacket’s gone, and he’s shed his tie and unbuttoned the shirt collar. He looks tired, but real and present.
I take the glass. "Thank you."
He leans against the window frame and looks at the city. Giving me space without leaving.
I think about that. About how often he does that, finding the exact right distance to lend his support without crowding me.
"I've been thinking," I say.
"Dangerous activity," he says.
I almost smile. “The world would say you're bad men.”
His eyebrows hitch in a silent question.
“The Bratva,” I clarify. “The things you do. The way you live." I pause. "Society would call you criminals. Violent. Dangerous."
"Society would be right," he says, without apology.
"Maybe," I say. "But you've never lied to me. You’ve been brutally honest from the start of our relationship, even when it works against you.
You've never used me as a bargaining chip or shown up drunk outside a hotel to guilt me into something.
" I look at him. "You've never once made me feel like a burden. "
He's watching me now, keeping still, the way he gets when he's one hundred percent focused on someone. The way he always listens to me when I speak.
"Danyl gave up his freedom to protect Liza, a woman he’s just met," I say. "He protects her. Supports her. Finds ways to lift her up and help her succeed.”
“He’s her husband,” Alexei says, like that explains everything.
I look down to hide my smile. He’s just made my point for me, but I still continue.
“Rurik runs an organization where people would die for each other. When he first met Perla, he might not have pursued her for unselfish reasons, but look at their relationship now. She’s more ruthless than him in her political endeavors, and he’s proud of her.
He has no problem taking a step back and letting her shine.
" I shake my head. "And then there's my dad. Not completely clean, but he prides himself on not doing big illegal things. Keeps bragging about how he’s never committed a violent crime.
" I swipe at an angry tear that’s escaped down my cheek.
"And he's the most damaging man I've ever known. "
Alexei is quiet for a moment. "Are you making an argument for criminals?" he asks carefully.
"No, I'm making an argument for you. Specifically." I set my water glass down on the windowsill. "You could have been cruel, or indifferent. You held all the cards and I had none. But you kept your promises. Every single one."
He looks at me, like he's trying to find a catch.
"Alexei," I say. "I'm in love with you."
The words come out steady. I'm surprised by that. I've been turning them over in my head for weeks, afraid of how they'd land, afraid of what he'd do with them. But they feel right.He doesn't move for a second.
Then he reaches out and cups my face in both hands, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones, the touch so careful it makes my eyes sting.
"Roza," he says, and my name in his mouth sounds like a promise.
"You don't have to say it back," I blurt. "I just needed you to…"
He kisses me. Slow and deep and deliberate. His hands stay on my face, holding me gently, and I curl my fingers into the front of his shirt and kiss him back with everything I have.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine.
"I'm in love with you," he says quietly. "I've been in love with you since you told me I couldn't drive you home."
I laugh, the sound surprised and a little wet. "That was the first night we met."
"Yes," he says, like that explains everything.
The night presses against the tall windows, but the only thing that matters right now is the heat rolling off Alexei’s body as I take his hand and tug him down the hallway. My fabric of my navy-blue dress whispers against my bare skin with every step.
I push open the bedroom door and turn to face him, my pulse racing with a new power. Tonight I want control.
I want to take my husband apart the way he always does me.
“On the bed, Alexei,” I breathe, but there’s steel in my voice. I place both hands on his broad chest and shove him backward.
He lets me, a dark, amused glint in his eyes as he drops onto the edge of the mattress, legs spread wide. His gaze never leaves me. It’s hungry, possessive, and waiting to see what his wife will do.
“Stay there,” I command, stepping back just out of reach. My fingers find the hidden zipper at the side of my dress, and I drag it down slowly, deliberately, letting the navy fabric peel away from my body like a second skin.
The dress pools at my feet, leaving me in nothing but the black bustier that pushes my breasts up high and tight, my nipples already peaked and sensitive against the satin.
I reach behind me, unhook the bustier, and let it fall away too.
My breasts spill free, heavy and full, the cool air tightening my nipples even more.
Alexei’s jaw clenches. His hands fist the sheets, but he stays exactly where I put him. “Roza,” he growls, low and warning. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”
“I know,” I whisper, stepping closer. “And I’m going to win it tonight.”
I move between his spread thighs and start undressing him, slowly, like I’m unwrapping something precious that belongs only to me.
My fingers work the buttons of his crisp white shirt open one by one, revealing the hard planes of his chest, the dark Bratva tattoos that snake across his skin, the ridges of muscle that flex under my touch.
I push the shirt off his broad shoulders and down his powerful arms, letting my palms glide over every inch of warm, scarred skin.
He’s so big, so strong, and tonight he’s letting me lead.
Next come the dress pants. I unbuckle his belt, slide the zipper down, and tug the fabric over his hips. He lifts just enough to help me. When the slacks hit the floor, my breath catches.
He’s gone freaking commando all night. I lift my gaze to his face. He shrugs. “You weren’t wearing any panties tonight, so.”
I laugh and shake my head, but my attention is back on his thick and heavy cock. It’s already rock hard, the thick vein along the underside pulsing. The head is flushed dark and glistening with precum. It twitches under my stare, curving proudly toward his abs.
“You’re so beautiful,” I murmur, wrapping my hand around the thick base. He hisses through his teeth as I give him one slow, firm stroke from tip to root, spreading the slick bead of precum down his shaft. “So hard for me already. Did you spend the entire party thinking about not wearing panties?”
“Every fucking second,” he rasps, voice gravel-rough. His hands twitch like he wants to grab me, but he keeps them on the bed. “Knew my wife was walking around that room bare and dripping for me. Nearly dragged you into the bathroom to bend you over.”
I smile, slow and wicked, and squeeze him tighter. “Not tonight. Tonight you’re going to lie here and take what I give you.”
I climb onto the bed, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips, and straddle him. His cock nestles hot and heavy against my bare pussy as I settle my weight on him.
I’m already soaked. Just thinking about my husband floods my pussy.
My slick folds glide along the thick length of him, coating him in my arousal. The head of his cock nudges my swollen clit with every tiny shift of my hips, sending sparks through me.
I brace my hands on his chest, feeling his heart hammering under my palms, and rock slowly against him. The friction is perfect.
His hot, velvety skin slides through my wet pussy lips, the fat head catching on my entrance on every forward glide but not pushing inside yet. I tease us both, rolling my hips in lazy circles, letting my wetness drip down his shaft.
“Roza,” he groans, the sound guttural. His hands finally move, gripping my thighs hard enough to leave marks. “Stop teasing and sit on my cock. I need to be inside you.”
“Not yet,” I whisper, leaning down to brush my lips against his.
I kiss him slow and deep, tasting the whiskey from the gala on his tongue, while I keep rocking.
Every slide drags his cock through my folds, the head bumping my clit until I’m panting into his mouth.
“I want to feel how much you want me first.”