Chapter 12
Like a warning, the sharp rap against the door reverberates through the apartment.
Alek is earlier than I expected. I can hear the water running in the bathroom and assume that Ani is still in the shower.
She’ll be fresh and clean, but evidence of what just transpired between us is written all over my body.
My back burns where her nails clawed through my flesh, and I’m certain my shoulders will have tiny bruises from where she clung to me.
The phantom squeeze of her cunt clenching around my cock is still present, it’s as if she needed to milk every drop of cum from me.
And the scent of her… The delicious scent of her lilac perfume lingers on my skin and in the fabric of my shirt.
Fuck, she smells good.
Another, more aggravated, knock pounds against the door.
While crossing the room, I smooth my shirt and give myself a quick glance in the mirror by the door.
I’d rather not answer it with evidence of her smudged across my face.
Pulling open the door, I find Alek standing on the other side.
His arms are folded, and annoyance is written across his face.
There are two of his men behind him, each with a bellhop cart, hauling Ani’s luggage—suitcases, garment bags, shopping bags, and boxes.
“Well, she hasn’t killed you yet,” Alek exhales, brushing past me into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. “So, that’s good.”
I smirk to myself, stepping aside as the men grunt their way in with Ani’s things.
As they pass, I get a glimpse at the shoes, purses, toiletries, and clothes.
It’s far more shit than one woman should own.
They pile it all in the foyer, and I count six suitcases, three boxes, and a pink bag so small and frilly it looks like it belongs to a child playing dress-up.
Actually, there’s so much fucking pink I can’t help but wonder if they robbed Barbie’s Dream House on their way here.
“No homicide.” Though blood has definitely been drawn. I shut the door behind them, managing to keep my tone flat and holding back the chuckle fighting its way from my chest. “Ani and I have come to an… agreement.”
Alek cuts me a sharp and inquisitive look, but I don’t bother to elaborate. His gaze flicks around the apartment and toward the bedrooms. “Ani?”
“She’s still alive, too,” I jest, deadpan. “She was in the shower.”
As though on cue, she pads down the hallway bare foot and steps into the living area.
She’s dressed in my clothes again, and I can’t help but like how adorable she is swimming in them.
Crossing the room to us, she doesn’t even glance in my direction.
Her face is pale and jaw tight, her arms tightening around her with every step she takes toward the two of us. She looks like she’s ready to crack.
Without saying a word, and with her gaze at her feet, she walks into the kitchen and helps herself to a bottle of water from the fridge.
I might not know her well—or at all, excluding how amazing she feels wrapped around me—but even I recognize that her behavior is uncharacteristic.
The girl who enjoys crawling under my skin by spitting venom at me every chance she gets currently can’t even bring herself to look me in the eye.
Guilt gnaws at me, seeing what I can only assume is her remorse for consummating our marriage.
Between that and the throbbing want for her already creeping back in, I can barely think straight.
Alek stares at his quiet sister for a moment. His brows lift as he turns toward me. “That’s… new.”
I almost can’t hold back my laugh. If only he fucking knew. My cock twitches at the memory of splitting her wide open as her little body clung to me like she couldn’t bear the thought of letting go. “She’s…” I clear my throat, “adjusting.”
“Adjusting,” Alek echoes me with a skeptical tone.
Joining her in the kitchen, he places his hand on her shoulder and lowers his voice. “You good?”
Ani looks up, her sharp eyes briefly meeting his, and her lips staying tightly pursed. She gives him a stiff nod and brushes past him, then me, heading across the living room. She stops near the wall of windows, folds her arms, and stares out at the skyline.
The morning sunlight frames her, dancing over her perfect skin and causing her light blonde hair to glow radiantly.
My body reacts before my brain does. All I can see is her pressed against the glass with her nails clawing across my shoulders.
My cock stirs at the thought, wishing that her tight pussy was gripping me again.
I shift my weight, covering the immature reaction beneath my zipper with a lazy lean against the doorframe.
Fuck.
I shouldn’t want her again. Not like this.
Not this fast. Not with her brother standing a few feet away.
But this foreign guilt over her new demeanor doesn’t erase the truth.
It was the best fuck of my life—raw and messy, like every ounce of hate and fury between us had burned into something neither of us could control.
I should regret it. Instead, every muscle in me aches to do it again.
For a moment, Alek studies me in silence, his gaze occasionally flicking toward his sister.
He might give off the persona of a wannabe gangster, but he’s sharp.
Calculated. The way he’s eyeing me, I can tell he’s wondering why his sister isn’t giving me hell.
Or him. Or why I can’t disguise the smirk of a man with a dirty little secret.
He finally breaks the silence. “You’ll let me know if there are… issues, Ani.”
“There won’t be,” I answer for her, my voice clipped and firm. “She’s my wife now. And that means she’s my responsibility.”
“That might be, but”—he holds my stare and releases a heavy exhale—“she’s my sister. And while I know this arrangement was my idea, her safety is not negotiable.”
I meet his glare head-on, my smile faint but sharp. “Trust me. Her safety is not your concern. No one touches what’s mine.”
“It isn’t other people I’m concerned about.”
“If you have something to say, fucking say it,” I bark, resenting his insinuation that I would ever lay my hands on her—or any woman—like that.
Without pulling her gaze from the view beyond the windows, Ani quietly mutters from across the room, “He didn’t hurt me.” They exchange a few curtly toned words in Armenian before she gives him a timid nod.
“Take care of her,” Alek demands, his voice low and firm.
Without hesitation, I match his tone. “I intend to.” We stare at each other in silence for a moment before he nods to his men, and they head for the door. The mood shifts the second it closes behind the three of them, but the tension doesn’t dissipate with their departure.
Ani doesn’t move from where she stands. She stays planted at the window, her spine stiff, so focused on the world beyond that glass it’s almost like she can’t bring herself to turn around.
I watch her without a word, every nerve in me pulled tight between the memory of her wrapped around me and the reality of her guilt-laced silence.
I think about crossing the room, pressing up behind her, and dragging her back to that brief moment where we were both so wrapped up in each other that neither of us could breathe. But if I push too hard too soon, I’m going to snap the fragile thread keeping her from exploding at me.
After grabbing my jacket from the barstool, I slide my arms into it and clear my throat.
“I’ve got some work to take care of this afternoon.
” My announcement doesn’t garner even the slightest reaction from her.
“You’ll use the time to put away your things,” I continue, ignoring the slight tightness in my chest, “and get yourself ready for dinner tonight. My family is expecting us.”
She turns slowly, her eyes narrowing with disdain. “Dinner?”
“Yes.” I keep my tone firm, ensuring she understands this isn’t a request. “Six, sharp. It’s informal.”
Her lips part into a slight scowl, on the verge of arguing.
She bites it back and mutters something under her breath with a heavy sigh as she looks at the pile of bags.
With a stiff tilt of her chin, she turns on her heel and heads to the bedroom.
I watch her intently, her tiny frame swaying gracefully with every furious step.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I should be thinking about the meeting I have with a Colombian drug lord in a couple of hours. Instead, all I can think about is fucking my wife.