Chapter 10 – Adrik
“Women,” I muttered to myself, standing at the base of the stairs.
I couldn’t understand why that gender always took so long to get ready. I’d been waiting for her to come down for over thirty minutes now, and my patience was growing thinner by the minute.
According to my watch, we were already running late for the event—one I would gladly skip if possible. Pakhan Artem was throwing a gala, and the invited guests were asked to bring their wives along.
I’d yet to come to terms with the fact that this nosy young lady was my wife. It would take a while to get used to that.
Ever since she’d returned from her grandfather’s estate over a week ago, things had gradually gone back to normal at the mansion. She’d stopped avoiding me and had resumed work in my office. We still had our usual banter every now and then, nothing too serious.
That spoiled little devil never agreed with me on anything and always jumped on any opportunity to argue. It was as though she loved getting on my nerves, and I couldn’t blame her—the feeling was mutual.
I wasn’t sure what Richard Beaumont had told her while she was at his place. But whatever it was, it sure made her calm down. Maybe he told her who the man in my basement had been. Maybe he didn’t. Whatever the case, she hadn’t spoken to me about it again.
Since her return, she’d been handling a few documents for my underground businesses. I let her handle one or two Mafia-related cases, just to see how much she could handle.
So far, it didn’t seem to be an issue, and that’s how I knew that she was gradually easing into her new reality. She’d accepted her fate—she was dealing with a cold-blooded Mafia boss. Her eyes no longer held that previous fear and horror.
However, up until now, we still hadn’t spoken about the incident or her willingness to handle criminal files.
Again, I glanced at my watch, my left foot tapping rapidly against the floor. “What the hell is taking so long?” I whispered under my breath.
Just when I was about to climb up the stairs to go check on her, the scent of her perfume drifted into my nostrils. By the time I raised my head, she was already descending the steps, gorgeous in every way.
Her brown doe eyes simmered under the chandelier’s warm glow, her red gown clinging to her like a second skin. Her makeup was light and natural, blending seamlessly with her toned skin.
The daring slit on the side of her dress revealed glimpses of her alluring legs as she moved. Her manicured fingers brushed against the polished railing as she descended the stairs like a beauty queen.
My heart skipped a beat when I first saw her. And for the next few seconds, I was glued to her. Completely mesmerized.
Her dark auburn hair was styled to perfection atop her head, her eyes sparkling in a way that thawed something frozen inside me.
Damn!
I was so used to seeing her plain and simple that I forgot this version of her existed. She looked just as gorgeous as she did on our wedding day. Maybe even more gorgeous. She managed to leave me smitten—speechless.
Now I understood why she’d taken too long to get ready. She was trying to look her best. And in my opinion, she nailed it. I had no doubt that she was going to be the best-dressed at the gala. And I couldn’t wait to show her off.
She reached the base of the stairs and then sashayed her way over to me, her hips swaying gently. “Sorry, I’m late,” she said. Even her voice was smooth like silk and sweet as honey.
As the hard man that I was, I refused to let my mask slip. I maintained my usual composure. “No, you’re not.”
Her lips curled into a mischievous grin. “You’re right. I’m not.”
My eyes discreetly traced the gentle curve of her mouth, painted a bold shade of red. Wildly enticing and very tempting.
She stared at me, as if expecting some sort of reaction. I knew what she was waiting for, but I wasn’t going to do it.
“You know, other men would’ve complimented their wives by now,” she said, her tone soft and almost teasing.
“I’m not like other men,” I replied dryly.
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you never fail to remind me every time.”
“Let’s go. We’re late already.” I lead the way, my shoes scuffing against the floor.
***
As expected, her appearance at the gala drew attention to us. The second we walked into the hall, elbows intertwined, heads turned toward us. Familiar faces stared at the newlyweds with faint grins perched on their lips.
Emika leaned in, whispering softly, “They’re looking at us.”
“What did you expect?” I replied with the same tone, my eyes darting across the grand hall. “People tend to stare at beautiful things.”
“Hmm.” She glanced at me, her lips curling to a knowing smile. “Is that a compliment I hear?”
“Don’t get used to it,” I replied dismissively, suppressing the harmless grin struggling to break free.
We weaved through the guests, lingering in small groups with champagne flutes in hand. Each one was dressed to impress. The men were all in tailored suits, and the women in elegant gowns with expensive jewelry glinting in the soft light.
The air was filled with the low hum of conversations and the occasional clinking of glasses. Waiters in their signature black-and-white moved through the crowd with trays of drinks and canapés balanced in their hands.
I nodded at a few familiar faces and shook hands with some extended family members.
“Adrik Tarasov,” Caleb Glenn called softly, arms apart as he walked over to my wife and me. “Long time no see, brother.” He embraced me.
“You look good, Caleb,” I said, tapping his shoulder.
He beamed faintly. “I owe that to you and your family.”
Caleb Glenn was an American businessman who’d been shot and left for dead two years ago on Russian soil. He was assumed dead, but in reality, he wasn’t. When I found him that cold night—injured and bleeding—he was barely holding on to life.
I could’ve left him in the pool of his own blood, but I didn’t. Instead, I ordered my men to pick him up from the roadside and take him to one of the Tarasov-owned hospitals.
After he was treated and nursed back to life, he felt indebted to my family and me. Especially after we helped him get revenge on those who’d planned his death.
He was back in Chicago now and had become one of our biggest investors.
“You must be Emiko,” he said, reaching to shake her hand.
She glanced at me, then at him again, before taking his hand. “You know my name.”
“Everyone in the family knows your name.” He chuckled. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet the woman with the keys to this man’s heart.”
She yanked her brows in surprise. “Pleasure’s all mine.”
“The name’s Caleb, by the way. Caleb Glenn.”
“Nice meeting you, Caleb.”
He turned to me. “She’s beautiful. You hit the jackpot with this one, brother.”
I squeezed out a small smile.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. “Oh, you’ll have to excuse me. I have to take this.” He withdrew the device and walked away.
“He seems nice,” she said to me.
“Don’t let that fool you. No one in here is nice,” I answered, picking up a glass of champagne from the tray of a waitress passing through. “That man’s the devil’s incarnate.”
“I highly doubt it,” she whispered.
I glanced at her. “Why’s that?”
“Because that title belongs to someone I know.” She looked me straight in the eyes.
Amused by her effrontery, my lips curled into a mischievous smirk as I sipped from my glass. She lowered her head slightly, as if to hide her flushed cheeks and a faint grin.
As the evening progressed, Emiko’s charms caught the hall off guard. She was polite and smiled with all the right people. Everyone who greeted us and engaged us in conversation ended up fascinated by her.
I’d never been prouder of a woman!
Later on, I spotted Pakhan Artem in the crowd. He was standing by a champagne tower with his wife, Sierra.
“Come,” I said to Emiko. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
We walked hand in hand, like a loving couple, as I led her to the most powerful man in the Tarasov family.
“Pakhan,” I greeted him, my voice low and reverent. “Sierra.” I gave her a curt nod.
She beamed at me.
“Ahh, Adrik.” He released a puff of smoke into the air. “You made it.” A quiet laugh fell from his lips. “And you brought the bone of your bone.”
My lips curled into a small smirk. “Emi, this is Pakhan Artem.” I glanced up at him. “Pakhan, my wife, Emiko.”
The older couple looked at each other, and then Sierra stepped forward. The hem of her lacy dress brushed against the floor as she moved. “Hello, Emiko.” She took her hands.
“Hello.”
“I’m Sierra.”
“My lovely wife,” Pakhan Artem chipped in, throwing his arm around her waist.
“Nice to meet you,” she answered, an inviting smile perched on her face. “Both of you.”
Sierra leaned in and whispered to her husband. “She’s even prettier in person.”
“Clearly not as pretty as you,” Emi said to her, beaming.
“Flattery.” Sierra chuckled. “Okay.”
As the two women laughed, Pakhan Artem drew me aside, his arm slung over my shoulder.
“So, tell me,” he began. “How does it feel to be married?”
I hesitated for a moment. “I don’t know, honestly. Nothing’s changed.”
“You sure about that?” he teased. “You seem a little…lighter. Doesn’t that classify as change?”
“Not in my book,” I answered.
“Yeah, I was once like you,” he said, dragging on his cigar. “New to this marriage stuff and so full of myself.” He paused. “Until life humbled me.”
By now, we were already far away from the champagne tower and had stopped by a massive pillar.
“Let me tell you what nobody told me.” He stood in front of me with his hand on my shoulder. “It always starts off badly. You’ll disagree, you’ll fight. But when you start fucking.” He chuckled. “That’s when the real change begins.”
I glanced back at the two women, only to find that Sierra wasn’t with my wife anymore. Emika was smiling at one of my younger cousins, who’d taken Sierra’s spot.
What the fuck? My blood boiled with fury. Why was she smiling like that? What exactly was so funny?
Because Pakhan Artem was still speaking to me, I returned my attention to him. I’d deal with that situation later.
“Jealousy is another thing you should look out for,” he said. “It’s most times always the first sign of change in us.”
I couldn’t help appreciating the irony.
“Thank you.” I gave a curt nod.
He tapped my shoulder and walked away. “Enjoy the rest of the evening.”
That instant, my expression darkened, and I returned to the champagne tower, seething in silence.
“Adrik, you have a beautiful wife,” my cousin Ilya said, chuckling.
“Wife,” I said, reminding him of her status. “Be sure to remember that next time.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the crowd.
“What’re you doing?” she asked through gritted teeth, her heels clicking rapidly against the floor. “You’re embarrassing me.”
I dragged her to the dimly lit corridor, away from the other guests.
“What is wrong with you?” She forced her hand out of my hold, her eyes blazing with fury. “You didn’t have to be so rude. He was just being nice.”
“I told you, no one here is nice,” I barked.
“Oh, please! You’re just being insecure.”
I paused, offended by the words and the tone of her voice. She swallowed hard upon realizing my displeasure. And when I glared at her, she began withdrawing until her back hit the wall behind her.
“Now you listen to me, Emika.” I leaned in, my eyes locked to hers. “I don’t give a shit how nice they are to you; in the public’s eyes, you’re still my wife and must play the part.”
Her throat bobbed, her chest rising and falling with slow breaths.
“Do you understand?” I asked, grazing her cheek with the back of my hand.
She locked her jaw, her eyes flashing with defiance.
The silence between us stretched for eternity, our breaths warm against each other’s skins. The air was charged with something electric, and the more I looked at her, the more my initial fury dissolved like ice.
When I ran my thumb along the delicate curve of her mouth, her body trembled beneath my touch. I was expecting some sort of resistance, but she gave none.
Her lips seemed to be calling out to me, and in her eyes was a faint glint of something that looked an awful lot like desire. I felt my third leg twitch in my pants, and my heart skipped a beat. A familiar rush of excitement jolted through my body, tempting me to claim those cherry lips.
Before things could heat up and spiral out of control, I backed away, watching her struggle to maintain her composure. Despite all her attempts to hide her emotions, her quivering lips and trembling hands betrayed her.
It was clear that this proximity affected her as much as it did me.
Part of our agreement was not to be intimate with each other. But judging by this strange pull between us, it was only a matter of time before we fell for this temptation.
The question now was: Who’d make the first move? Which one of us would fall first?
This seemed like an interesting game to play, and I was looking forward to the outcome.
My lips curled into a self-satisfied grin as I walked back to the gala.