Chapter Five
Viktor
The next morning my phone showed no less than ten text messages and several voicemails, all demanding my immediate return.
As much as I wanted to have a true honeymoon with Cerys, it seemed it would have to wait.
Even a call to Maksim hadn’t yielded more details, other than we had an issue, or rather I did.
I had to wonder if had something to do with Cerys, or perhaps the way I’d handled her father.
I showered, dressed, then packed my bag before calling down for room service.
While I waited for breakfast to arrive, I woke Cerys.
She gave me a sleepy smile, reaching up to brush her fingers along my beard.
It amazed me that without her sight she could brush her fingers through my beard on the first try every time.
“Morning,” she said. “What time is it?”
“Early, but there’s a complication at home I need to handle. I’m afraid our trip is being cut short. Breakfast will be here shortly if you’d like to shower and dress. After we eat, we’ll have to go straight to the airport and fly home. The jet is being fueled and should be ready when we arrive.”
I helped her out of the bed and started the shower while she picked out her clothes.
Seeing her hold a white shirt and a red bra made me smile, and I realized that perhaps I hadn’t thought out her wardrobe as well as I’d assumed I had.
I took the bra from her and swapped it for one that wouldn’t show through her shirt, brushed a kiss against her temple, then left her to get ready.
If I remained in the room with her, I’d end up joining her in the shower, and then we’d be delayed in getting home.
Truthfully, it was tempting to take another day with my new wife, but I knew there would be hell to pay if I did.
Maksim treated me like family, and I wouldn’t abuse his trust just to have more time with my wife.
By the time Cerys stepped out of the bedroom, fully dressed, our food was ready and waiting.
I lifted the dome from the various dishes and told her what was available, letting her have first choice.
Once her plate was made, I helped myself and sat next to her at the small table.
“What’s going to happen when we go home?” she asked.
“I’ll sort out the problem. There’s nothing for you to fear, myshka .”
She ate a few more bites, then turned her face toward me. “Viktor, what do you expect me to do all day every day? As your wife, will I have responsibilities? I don’t know anything about living in your world, or what being the wife of someone like you would even entail.”
Someone like me? I knew what she meant, but first and foremost, I was just a man.
And like most men, what I wanted was for my wife to be naked in my bed.
And happy. I wanted her to be happy. If that meant she didn’t do the same things a typical Bratva wife would do, then so be it.
I knew she would have limitations, though I intended to help in any way I could.
While she’d gotten ready, I’d used my phone to search online for a cane.
After purchasing it, I arranged for Ilya to pick it up, then deliver it to my condo.
I didn’t like the idea of Cerys bumping into things or possibly falling.
“Most work with various charities; they shop and spend time with other Bratva wives, handle any staff around the house, and make sure things run smoothly at home.” I reached for her hand. “But I don’t expect all of that from you.”
“Because I’m blind?”
I smiled at the slight bite to her tone.
It seemed she didn’t like being considered incapable.
I didn’t doubt that she could do many things on her own, but I also knew how the other wives would react to her.
It would take time for them to get to know her, and appreciate her the way I did.
Tossing her into their mix immediately would be like feeding her to a bunch of sharks.
They could be vicious and would feel threatened by her.
As one of the more prominent members of the Bratva, I held a higher ranking than a lot of their husbands, which put Cerys above those wives. They wouldn’t like it.
“No. Because I want you to be happy, and I don’t think those types of things would be something you’d enjoy.
I don’t have a staff at home, although I should probably hire someone to help you with the cooking and cleaning.
I know you took care of that for your father, but you’re not a maid, Cerys. You’re my wife.”
Her lips twitched as if she fought off a smile. “Most wives, those who aren’t married to men who can afford something like a penthouse suite, handle the cooking and cleaning for their families. You wouldn’t be asking me to do something other women don’t handle every day.”
I didn’t respond right away, wanting to be careful with my words.
We’d already had one miscommunication that had upset her greatly and I didn’t want to have another.
I knew it was likely we’d struggle from time to time as we adjusted to one another, but I’d prefer to temper my words and avoid it if I could.
I hadn’t liked her being distant and looking like a beaten puppy.
“What do you enjoy?” I asked. “If you could do anything, what would make you happiest?”
Her lips pursed and her brow furrowed. “No one’s ever asked me that before.”
I gave her time to think about her answer, wanting to honestly know what she wanted or needed in order to be happy with me, with her new life. If it was within my power to give it to her, I would.
“I want to make a difference in someone’s life,” she said.
“I know I’m not the only person who has had to fight against a disability, and I was struggling until you came along.
If there’s a way to help other people like me, then that’s what I want to do.
Everyone deserves a chance to make something of themselves or find happiness. ”
It wasn’t what I’d expected her to say. I’d thought she’d ask for more books, or something that I could purchase for her.
Perhaps even more time together, but helping others?
While I knew most of the Bratva wives helped with charities, I didn’t think they actually cared about any of the causes.
It was mostly for show. Cerys, however, just wanted to help someone.
It proved that she was different from anyone I’d ever known before, that she was sweet and good.
I only hoped that being with me didn’t destroy that part of her.
The life I led was violent and bloody. I didn’t want any part of it to touch her, but there was always a risk something would happen.
“I’ll see if I can come up with a way for you to do that, myshka . I just need to handle the situation at home first.” And handle it I would, by any means necessary if the problem was Artur.
Within the hour we were loaded onto the jet and heading back home.
Cerys dozed with her head on my shoulder, but I knew I needed to get my mind back on business and be a little less focused on my new wife.
She was tempting, and I would have loved to introduce her to the Mile High Club, but it would have to wait.
I couldn’t afford to be careless or sloppy.
It wasn’t just my life at stake anymore.
I knew my enemies wouldn’t hesitate to use Cerys against me.
There was also the chance she could be pregnant already.
I’d refused to use to protection with her, wanting to see her swell with our child.
If Artur wouldn’t back down, I’d have to come up with another arrangement, one that didn’t include making his daughter a part of my life in any capacity.
At one point, it wouldn’t have bothered me.
Women in my world were to be used and discarded in whatever way might be advantageous to the men.
It never had been a problem for me in the past, but if anyone tried to take Cerys from me, I’d put them six feet under.
I only hoped my attachment to her didn’t come across as a weakness.
The weak didn’t last long in the Bratva.
The flight was uneventful and soon I felt the wheels touching down. I roused Cerys, smiling as she stretched like a contented cat.
“We’re here, myshka . Time to go home.”
She nodded and stood, nearly falling. I reached up and steadied her, rising to my feet.
Someone would handle our bags so I lifted her into my arms and carried her down the steps and to my car.
After I settled her on the passenger seat and buckled her, I shut the door and strode around the hood.
I popped the trunk so our bags could be placed inside, and once it was closed again, I slid into the car and started the engine.
By the time I parked the car outside my building and handed the keys to the valet, Cerys seemed more awake. She reached for my hand as we entered the building and rode the elevator to our floor.
“Home, sweet home,” she murmured as I opened the door and ushered her inside.
I looked around at the place I’d called mine for the past several years.
The modern furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows had been perfect for my life up to this point.
If Cerys and I had children, would they feel welcome in this space?
My childhood had been far from perfect, and Cerys’ hadn’t been any better.
I wanted our children to be happy and to have the things we hadn’t.