Chapter Twenty-Five
Two Months Later
I was already settling into my new home, and my baby bump was slowly growing bigger every day. My body was in constant pain all the time, but ironically, Rodion was always there to make me feel better.
The man I’d told, bluntly, that I would never love was the same man who was there for me every minute and every second of the day. He refused to let my words affect him, and instead of keeping his distance, he chose to shower me with care and affection.
Of course, I didn’t mean what I said that evening on the rooftop. I just wanted him to feel a fraction of the pain he caused me. I tried to hate him, though I really did. But I couldn’t—not with him being so caring and protective of me.
I’d lost count of the number of times he’d gone out of his way to make sure I was comfortable. Even in the middle of the night when I was woken up by a random craving—specific ice creams, pizzas, and basically anything edible—this man would go out himself to get it for me.
He never returned without what I was craving. Not once. And he was always on time. If I complained about body aches, he’d immediately switch to my personal masseur. And his massage sessions were always relaxing.
Rodion would rub my swollen feet early in the morning before fetching my breakfast from the kitchen. On several occasions, he would even bathe me himself when I was too tired to do that. This man had been pampering me, never losing his temper even when I was being a bitch for no reason.
One time, he got me the wrong ice cream flavor, and boy, did I raise hell. He tried explaining to me that there must’ve been a mix-up somewhere, but I wouldn’t have it and wouldn’t stop raging either.
This man didn’t yell back or ask me to shut up; he simply closed the distance between us and embraced me tightly. Just like magic, all that anger I was feeling went out the window, and I broke down crying in his arms. I had no idea why I felt the urge to shed those tears, but I couldn’t help it.
These past few months had been one hell of an emotional rollercoaster for me. One minute I was happy and bubbly, and the very next second I’d be sad or angry for no reason. Little things upset me, and even the slightest irritation was enough to trigger an outburst.
Funny how I never snapped at any of the maids. Not even once. A couple of the guards, though, had felt my wrath. But in my defense, they were at fault and sort of deserved it.
The real victim, however, was my husband.
He was the one I dumped all of my anger and frustration on. And he tolerated me—probably longer than I would’ve if I were him. I saw the effort he was making to ensure I was comfortable. Because of that, I began to rethink all of my decisions.
Rodion hadn’t made any sexual moves toward me in all these months, even though I could tell that he wanted me. Sometimes when we were in the bathroom together, and he was bathing me, I’d feel his erection against my skin.
At first, I thought he would intentionally brush his dick against me in an attempt to tease me. But then I realized that wasn’t the case.
Two nights ago, I had deliberately lain carelessly on the bed. The strap of my nightgown hung loosely off my shoulder, revealing a provocative glimpse of skin above my swollen breasts.
The hem of my dress was lifted way above my knees, exposing my thighs. I’d pretended to be fast asleep, waiting for him to make a move. In all honesty, I was ready for him that night. I wanted him so badly, and if he had touched me, I would’ve responded, and we would’ve made out.
But Rodion didn’t.
He towered over me for a moment that night, as if drinking in the sight in front of him. When I opened my eyes slightly, I noticed he had a hard-on, and the print was visible beneath his pants. Instead of taking me like he clearly wanted to, he chose to adjust my dress and cover me with the sheets.
That act of self-control alone won him a special place in my heart he wasn’t aware of yet. He’d proven himself to me on multiple occasions, and I decided then that I was done playing this game. I was done making him suffer. Because apparently, torturing him was torturing me as well.
Rodion had adjusted his schedule so he could spend more time with me at home. And I didn’t realize how much I’d gotten used to having him around until today. He’d received a call he couldn’t ignore and had promised to return home before four p.m.
It was already past six in the evening, and I still hadn’t heard from him. For some reason, I felt like something was wrong, and I became so uneasy. His phone wasn’t connecting; neither was Yuri’s—his right-hand man.
Rodion wouldn’t switch off his phone after promising me he’d return before four p.m. He would’ve called me to explain why he was running late.
I didn’t like this radio silence.
I overheard him talking to Yuri the other day about some kind of attack against his network. I didn’t ask him what that was about because I didn’t want to pry. But now I wished I had.
I paced the length of our bedroom, my heart racing as I wondered if anything bad had happened to him. The mere thought of that scared me in a way I never expected.
Was he ambushed wherever he went?
Was that phone call part of a setup?
The uncertainty of what was happening unsettled me more than anything else. I placed a hand on my swollen belly and began rubbing it slowly while reassuring myself that he was fine.
I had just stepped away from the window when I heard it. The gunshots. Loud and alarming. My first instinct was to get down. The second I hit the floor, bullets pelted into the room, shattering the window.
I screamed, hands over my ears, as glass shards rained down on me, the sharp edges pricking my skin. I lay there, shaking like a leaf on the floor, thinking how nothing must happen to my baby.
“They’re in the house!” a familiar voice bellowed outside the corridor.
More gunshots followed as the guards exchanged fire with the intruders. I crawled away from the window as quickly as I could after hearing voices, like two men were climbing up the wall.
I dragged myself under the bed and covered my mouth with my palm. My heart was pounding in my chest as I lay there, hoping that I didn’t get discovered.
Heavy boots landed in the room from the window, and from the gap under the bed, I saw two legs pacing back and forth.
“Remember, the wife is the target,” one of them said, his voice deep and raucous. “Find her.”
The second man headed toward the door, his large boots thumping on the floor as he moved. I could still hear the chaos outside, people screaming, guns blazing.
I was the target?
Whoever they were, these people clearly wanted to hit my husband where it would hurt him the most. Me.
I stayed still under the bed, slowing my breathing as I watched the legs of the remaining man. He was quietly moving about, as if looking for something.
My breath ceased when it hit me that he might have already sensed that I was hiding somewhere. That was why he hadn’t left the room yet. I hoped to God that I was wrong.
Then suddenly, he bent over, his red eyes meeting mine under the bed. “Gotcha!”
I screamed as he reached out and grabbed a handful of my hair. My hands slapped against his arms, but to no avail, as he dragged me out from under the bed.
“I could hear your shaky breaths, you fuckin’ bitch!” He laughed evilly. “I guess your husband didn’t teach you the act of stealth.”
I grabbed a pen lying carelessly on the floor, and with everything in me, I jabbed it into his arm when he reached to touch me again.
“Fuck!” He groaned in pain.
I sprang to my feet but didn’t get far when he grabbed me by the hair and pulled me back.
“Get over here!” he yelled.
I spun around in a split second and kicked him in the balls as hard as I could. He retaliated with a backhand slap that threw me onto the bed.
“Fuckin’ bitch! Argh!” He stumbled backward, hands on his groin. “You’re gonna pay for that!”
The slap had disoriented me, causing my vision to blur. Next thing I knew, he was already on top of me, choking me, his bloodshot eyes flashing with murderous intent.
I struggled and managed to rake my nails across his face, but he only winced at the pain before pinning my hands to the mattress.
“Let go of me!”
He leaned in and licked my face, lust dancing in his eyes. “Oh, I’m gonna enjoy this.”
I tipped my head and called out the first name that came to my mind. “Rodion!!!!!”
“He’s not coming to save you!” he barked. “You’re mine for the taking…”
The bastard was still talking when a powerful force yanked him off of me. I sat up immediately, and that’s when I saw him—Rodion. He moved like a beast in his fight against my attacker. It wasn’t really a fight because the other man didn’t even land a single punch.
I watched Rodion knock the man down with a powerful blow before mounting him. Rodion drilled several skull-crushing punches to the assailant’s face and didn’t stop even with all the blood on his fists.
“Nobody…touches…my…wife and lives!” Each pause came with an even more powerful blow.
Rodion kept hitting him until his body became limp. Lifeless. His victim’s blood was splashed all over his face as he beat the man to death with his bare hands.
I’d never seen anything like that before—never seen him in his true element when he was protecting what was his own. When he was pissed.
“Rodion,” I called softly, getting off the bed. “You can stop now; I think he’s dead.” I walked over to him and held his hand in the air.
Only then did he snap out of his rage and meet my gaze.
I dropped to my knees beside him. “It’s okay. I’m okay—I’m okay.”
He threw his arms around me, and I held on to him tightly.
“The baby.” He pulled away, just enough to glance at my belly, his voice laced with concern.
“The baby’s fine,” I assured him, placing a hand on his cheek.
“I never should’ve left you alone…”
“It’s not your fault,” I said, eyes boring into his. “You couldn’t have known.”
“I’m never leaving you again,” he promised.
My lips curled into a smile. “You better not.”
I learned tonight just how absolute my husband’s protection had become. This man would cross anything if it meant keeping the baby and me safe. And that alone was enough to change everything I thought I knew about him.