Chapter 21 – Celine
I was married to the monster who kidnapped me, stole my innocence, and got me pregnant. This was my reality. One I had come to accept at last.
I realized it was useless to fight a losing battle because he had already won a long time ago, when he made my body crave him nonstop. When he made a woman out of me and left a chunk of him inside me.
The wedding was just an event to solidify what already existed between us. The bond I never really admitted was there. It was a gathering of witnesses that made our union official in the eyes of the law.
I belonged to him long before the wedding ceremony. Even though I wanted to hate him for ruining my life, a part of me wouldn’t let me. That part that was starting to feel something for this monster.
Maybe I was a hypocrite for calling him a monster only when it was convenient for me. I never saw him as such whenever he made love to me and touched me in all the right places.
I never saw him as a cold-blooded murderer when his kisses burned through me like fire. Or when his face was buried between my legs. I only called him names when things weren’t going my way.
So maybe I was a hypocrite.
That realization was one of the reasons I decided to cease fire, coupled with the knowledge that my fate was sealed. Why fight when I could study this man and figure out how to relate to him?
At least I already understood that we both came from different worlds. And we viewed life through separate lenses. His thoughts, ideas, and beliefs differed from mine—and maybe that was one of the forces pulling us together.
We were exact opposites of each other, which was why we had conflicts. If we could understand and accept our individual differences, maybe we could make this work.
Since I was always the one yelling and complaining, the change should start from me. Whether this marriage worked or not, Artur had nothing to lose. Not me. There were many things that could go wrong for me.
However, if things worked out in the end, it would still benefit me. Therefore, determined to turn a new leaf, I first had to accept two harsh truths.
One: that this was life now, and there was nothing I or anyone else could do about it.
Two: that deep down, I felt something for him—something other than hatred and disdain.
Accepting the second truth was a hard pill to swallow. But then again, acceptance didn’t mean confession. I wasn’t compelled to express my feelings, so it was easier to keep them all in.
After the wedding night and the breathtaking oral sex that went down, things had been smooth between us. We barely fought, and I hardly found a reason to be mad at him.
He was still pretty annoying, especially with the little things, like when he snored at night. But it wasn’t something I couldn’t handle. Besides, he only did that whenever he was exhausted and drained.
I was learning how not to react to everything he did. I ignored some things and talked about the ones I thought he should know about. Like dumping his sweaty shirts on the couch after a long day at work or leaving foam on the walls after showering.
Now that we shared the same bedroom, we both had to be intentional about what the other liked or disliked. For instance, he didn’t like sleeping with the light on. I did. I loved leaving the balcony door open at night. He didn’t.
These differences were the small things we needed to adjust to. And we did. Or at least, we decided to try.
Every time I thought back on our first experience with the light issue, I always found myself smiling. Although it wasn’t funny at the time.
It was a random day. He returned home late that night, and I was already asleep. Before sliding into bed with me, he turned off the light, thinking I had fallen asleep and forgotten to turn it off.
When I woke up in the middle of the night and realized everywhere was dark, I got out of bed and turned the light back on.
After I fell asleep again, he woke up later, found the light on, and turned it off.
The next morning, I asked him to call the electrician because the lights in our bedroom were flickering. He then looked at me and said he thought so too, that every time he turned them off and went back to sleep, they would come back on their own.
That was when it hit me. There was no electrical malfunction. We were the ones turning the lights on and off.
“Who sleeps with the lights off?” I’d argued.
“Everyone. That’s why it’s called ‘lights out.’”
So, we came up with a practical solution.
One night on.
One night off.
Problem solved.
When it was my turn, I’d enjoy it to the fullest. But when it was his turn, I’d be forced to endure it so he could have it his way. And vice versa.
We didn’t realize it then, but that method was more effective than we anticipated. It helped ease us into each other’s worlds, one night at a time. By doing so, we subconsciously began learning how to be selfless for one another.
The journey so far had been educational in ways I was never prepared for. And the best part of it all was his willingness to participate in this exercise.
Even the guards were used to having me around by now. They showed me immense respect as their boss’s wife. I heard they referred to me as the “Bratva Queen” amongst themselves.
My presence dominated the mansion, and I moved around freely, giving orders like I owned the place. Technically, I did. I eased into this married life barely two weeks after the wedding. No regret and no time for self-pity.
This was my place. I belonged here now.
Everyone had accepted me.
Everyone except for Konstantin.
That man just wouldn’t loosen up around me. I had no idea what his problem was, and I didn’t care.
Artur said not to pay attention to him, that he’d always been like that. Broody and grumpy. However, I couldn’t help thinking he had a secret beef with me. Especially after I found out he was the one who told Artur about my pregnancy.
He never outright told me he didn’t like me or approve of me. But his actions spoke volumes.
What the hell did I do to that man?
Anyway, my life wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be as a twenty-one-year-old American married to a Russian Mafia boss.
Yes, my education was on hold for now, and my future was yet to be determined. But I believed that at the right time, Artur and I would have that conversation. And things would fall in place.
That afternoon, I was in the bedroom taking a nap after helping Hilda with some minor chores around the house. I didn’t have to work, and she almost didn’t let me. But I convinced her to let me help because I needed something to occupy my mind.
I was deep in my sleep when the unmistakable sound of gunfire woke me up. It wasn’t a dream. It was real. The mansion was under attack. Again.
Outside, men were yelling in Russian, barking orders as rapid shots rippled through the estate. I sat on the bed, my hand instinctively flying to my belly, as if making sure my baby was safe.
I’d experienced this once before, and I knew panicking right now was a bad idea. So I pulled myself together despite my racing heart and drumming pulse.
Familiar voices echoed through the halls as staff members ran to safety. Quickly, I rushed to the secret compartment in the wall where Artur kept a loaded Glock.
With shaky hands, I punched in the code, nervously glancing over my shoulders. Artur had no idea I knew about the gun compartment. Nor did he know that I’d memorized the code.
I withdrew the weapon, turned off the safety, and closed the compartment. When I heard heavy footsteps approaching the room, I aimed the gun at the door with trembling hands.
My brows drew together, my grip tightening around the handle. I waited, aiming steadily until the door burst open.
I almost pulled the trigger until I realized it was Artur.
“Shit! Don’t shoot!” He moved so quickly that he would’ve dodged the bullet even if I’d accidentally fired.
“Sorry.” I lowered the gun.
He stared at me for a moment, then shifted his gaze between me and the compartment behind me. Artur was clearly shocked, confused as to how I got hold of that gun.
“We’ll talk about this later,” he said, his voice laced with urgency. “For now, I need you to stay here, okay?”
I nodded.
“Hide in the closet, and do not come out no matter what,” he added. “I’ll take care of this problem. I promise.”
His gaze lingered on me a bit longer, as though he wasn’t sure about leaving me all by myself. “I’ll send some men to protect you.”
As he turned to leave, I called out to him, “Artur.”
He paused, looking back at me.
“Be careful.”
A very faint grin flashed on his lips, and he dashed out of the room.
The chaos was heavy outside, gunshots filling the air. Men bellowed, glass shattered, and multiple explosions shook the whole building. The hanging chandelier trembled at the blast, and the flower vase on a table fell off, shattering across the floor.
I rushed into the closet and closed the door. The second I did that, the window broke, the glass giving way as two armed men landed inside. They moved around, guns held up in front of them like they were looking for any sign of life.
Hidden in the closet, I remained silent, watching them through the gap in the door. Then, it happened. A figure dashed into the room, firing twice, one shot for each assassin.
They dropped to the floor. Dead.
I tilted my head, trying to catch my savior’s face while holding my gun tightly.
It wasn’t until after another gunshot rang and he fell to the ground that I realized who it was.
Konstantin.
He’d been shot from the back, and now the shooter had walked in, ready to finish the job. I could stay silent and watch them kill Artur’s most trusted man. Or I could take that bold step and shoot his attacker first.
The man didn’t like me.
Why should I risk my life and my unborn baby’s safety to save him?
I wanted to play it safe. But I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I knew I could’ve done something but didn’t.