Chapter 16 – Karik
The territorial dispute with the Irish had kept me busy for the past five days. I was hardly home during this period. I would return late at night, when almost every other staff member was asleep, and leave early the next morning, before they woke up.
I told myself it was because the assignment required my full attention. However, in reality, I was glad the situation arose when it did. Because now, I could use it as an excuse to keep my distance from Ellie.
After what happened in my study the other day, I thought it wise to avoid her for the time being. Not because she suddenly repulsed me or because I didn’t enjoy every bit of her. In fact, it was quite the contrary. I was losing my focus.
The sex was too good, much better than I ever imagined. Fast-paced and rough, with the kind of intensity that clearly showed our hunger for each other.
She gave in to the temptation she’d been running from. And that encounter created something capable of interfering with the way I operated.
I’d been with other women before, but none had ever awakened these strange emotions in me. None had lingered in my mind for more than 24 hours after intimacy. Yet Ellie had been living rent-free in my head since we had sex.
Five days, and I still hadn’t managed to get her out of my mind. It was as though she were cemented in my thoughts. The expression on her face, the sound of her moans, and the way her hands caressed my body.
These images kept me distracted, even during important meetings with Bratva elites. I was no longer in control of my own mind, and it was unsettling. I couldn’t understand why she had such an effect on me; it didn’t make sense at all.
It was supposed to be just sex.
We both had an itch, and we helped each other scratch it. No big deal. At least that’s what I thought when I teased and seduced her. But obviously, I was wrong. Now I was left to wonder whether I was also in her head as much as she was in mine.
That uncertainty was killing me slowly.
The craziest thing about this whole situation was that her presence in my head intensified my desire for her. The more I recalled the incident, the more I longed to touch her again, to kiss those soft lips and feel her warmth.
At night, the sound of her moans kept me up, a constant reminder of what I was missing. Three times, I ended up beating my meat just to release the tension. It helped. But it wasn’t the real thing. In fact, it only fanned the flames of my lust.
I wanted more: more and more of her. And that insatiable need was starting to affect my productivity at work.
She said the sex didn’t change anything.
But unfortunately for me, it had.
It changed the way I saw her, the way I thought of her, and the way I would later relate to her. I felt more connected to her than I ever was with any other woman, and that shit was scary—especially for a man like me.
I wasn’t sure what would’ve happened by now if this dispute with the Irish hadn’t kept me away. Although a part of me was glad about the distance between us, the other part couldn’t wait to end this issue and get back to her.
I genuinely thought avoidance would solve the problem. But it didn’t. It only sharpened it. In my leisure time, I’d entertain myself with the live footage of her activities back at home. I knew I shouldn’t be spying on her, but I couldn’t help it.
Watching her move through the house had a weird way of easing my stress. I noticed she’d buried herself in the case files I’d previously sent to her.
Was that a coping mechanism?
Was she so focused on the cases just to escape her darkest desires?
I hoped I wasn’t the only one affected so much by the sex because that would be fucked up.
The knock on the door forced me out of my thoughts. When I glanced toward the entrance, a familiar figure was already walking into my office.
My lips curled into a small grin, and I rose to my feet. “Uncle Pavel, what a pleasant surprise.” I went around the table to meet him. “I thought you were still in Ukraine.”
“I’m back for a few days,” he answered. “Had to drop by and see my nephew—the latest groom in town.” He spread out his arms.
I embraced him, both of us tapping each other’s backs. “It’s good to see you, Uncle.”
“Good to see you too.” He pulled back just enough to look at my face, his hand resting on my shoulder. A quiet chuckle escaped his lips. “See, settling down wasn’t that hard, now was it?”
A pause.
“That’s debatable.”
He laughed lightly, sinking into the visitor’s chair.
I headed to the minibar in the corner and grabbed a bottle of his favorite wine.
“So tell me, how does it feel to be married?”
I walked back to my desk, the bottle in one hand and two glasses in the other. “It’s overrated, if you ask me.”
“It usually is,” he said, “until it isn’t.”
I poured him a glass and handed it to him.
“Thank you,” he said in Russian, accepting it.
I did the same for myself and took a sip, savoring the flavor dancing on my tongue.
“How is she, anyway?” he asked, his eyes boring into mine. “Your wife.”
Images of her face flashed in my head, the sound of her sweet moans echoing in the back of my mind. His question had triggered a memory his presence had managed to bury minutes ago.
“Karik?” he called softly.
I blinked back to reality.
“Did you hear what I asked?”
I cleared my throat. “She’s fine.”
Silence.
Uncle Pavel held my gaze, as if searching for something. “That’s good to know.”
I walked around the table and sat in my chair, sipping from my glass.
My uncle wasn’t here to catch up or discuss business. He was here to talk about my wife, a conversation I knew we were bound to have sooner or later.
He swirled the wine in his glass and reclined in his chair, his gaze unwavering.
“You do realize I know why you’ve come, right?” I asked him. “You might as well stop stalling and get to the point.”
He drew in a sharp breath. “I personally don’t have an issue with who you decided to marry. You’re a grown man capable of making your own choices.”
A pause.
“But there are people within the high ranks who aren’t…pleased with your choice.”
“I don’t live my life to please people, Uncle.”
“I know that. Hell, everyone knows that.”
“You asked me to find a wife. I did. I don’t see the problem.”
He leaned in, his voice dropping lower than normal. “The problem is that your wife isn’t….” He hesitated, as if considering his next words carefully.
“Isn’t what?” I stared right at him, daring him to say what’s on his mind.
“Let’s just say she’s not cut out for a world like ours,” he answered.
“Why?” I asked. “You don’t even know her.”
“I know she was working on Daniel Vetrov’s case as a school project before you kidnapped her,” he said.
Silence.
“Eliza Hendy is an average American with no political affiliations. Your union with her doesn’t in any way benefit the Bratva,” he said.
“It’s Eliza Tarasov now,” I corrected him, my voice steady. “You might not see her potential yet, but I do. She’s smart, intelligent, and possesses the mental capacity to carry the Tarasov name.”
He leaned back in his chair, lifting his glass to his lips.
“Trust me, Uncle, I knew exactly what I was doing when I married her,” I said to him. “She’s not a liability.” I paused, allowing the words to sink in. “She’s my most valuable asset.”
His lips curled into a mischievous grin. “For someone who said marriage is overrated, you speak so highly of your wife.”
I wasn’t sure whether that was a compliment. But I felt the need to defend her image. That’s when I realized I was beginning to go down a path I might not be able to come back from.
Fuck.