Chapter Nineteen
Inna Grace
“Let me know if you need anything else,” Anita, the maid who was assigned to assist me, said.
“Thank you.” I meant it, even though I was still catching up to the fact that she would be serving me. Dmitri also got me a driver to use whenever I wanted to go somewhere.
Moving to the beach mansion happened faster than I was ready for.
I spent the drive from the penthouse to the mansion coming up with ideas of how I would act convincingly enough for Madam Regina to believe this marriage.
I was certain that she could see through walls.
But when we arrived, she welcomed us as if she had been preparing for our arrival all day.
Madam Regina instructed Anita to help me settle in and attend to whatever I needed. I tried to wave it off, but she looked at me as if my opinion in that matter was appreciated but not required.
I now stood by a floor-to-ceiling window on the third floor and looked at the ocean stretching outside. The sun sat low, pulling orange and gold across the water in long, slow strokes. Staring at the sunset, I realized this would be the view I would get as long as I was here.
Memories of my past struggles hit me, the month Cole and I wandered through the night, starving and with stolen money. We had nowhere to go. Cole must have been terrified, but still held on. And here I was, standing in a room I didn’t deserve just because of a lie.
Underneath the fear, there was gratitude. Dmitri could have made me pay double what I stole or thrown me into prison. He could have done a hundred things that would break us completely. Instead, he gave us a roof, a driver, a maid, a tutor for my brother, and food.
Was playing to be his wife even enough in return for all of that? I couldn’t buy him anything because I was broke. My body was also off the table. I tried that and received an obvious answer. I wasn’t his type, and I understood that.
But his grandma was here. She was old, and the maids moved around her with fear. She probably needed someone to be beside her. I could start there.
I pulled myself from the window and looked around the suite properly.
The third floor was its own world, Dmitri’s floor.
Low cream couches curved around a glass coffee table with a pale rug beneath it.
A minibar ran along the far wall, dark-wood shelves holding crystal glasses and bottles arranged by height and color.
A built-in fridge sat beneath it. On the west side’s enormous window, a hammock hung, offering an ocean view.
Two doors lined the hallway. I pushed the first one and stopped at the frame.
It was a study with a desk, a single chair, and shelves running from floor to ceiling, with files and books arranged without any particular chaos.
It was nothing like his office at DK Holdings, just a quiet room that looked like it went mostly unused.
With the right book and enough time, a person could comfortably disappear in there.
I closed the door and moved to the next door, which opened into the bedroom. And Holly Molly, who owns such a massive bedroom?
The enormous bed sat in the center of the room, dressed in crisp white sheets with charcoal pillows stacked against the headboard. It faced sliding doors that opened onto a private balcony. Lying down, the first thing your eyes would find in the morning would be the water and the sunrise.
The walk-in closet was inside the bedroom.
I stepped in and found my clothes already arranged on one side, sorted by color and type, and shoes lined up on their own shelf.
Dmitri’s side held mostly white and black shirts, each one pressed flat.
I reached out and brushed my fingers over the fabric of one.
The image of Dmitri in one of these shirts, with the top three buttons open, came to my mind. I wondered if he knew how hot that was.
I pulled one drawer open, and rows of watches greeted me. Each one sat in its own space. I opened the next one, and my hand hovered over neatly folded boxers for exactly one second before I shut it.
Moving to the bathroom, nothing surprised me. The marble floors, a wide mirror running the full length of a double vanity, and a freestanding bathtub positioned near the window. The shower compartment occupied a far corner, with a rainfall head built directly into the ceiling.
Dmitri told me to enjoy it while it lasted, so I decided to.
I stripped and stepped into the shower, the warm water coming down over my shoulders.
I closed my eyes and let everything dissolve.
It was just the water falling over my body, making me relax.
I stayed longer than necessary, but that was the point.
Stepping out of the shower, I went to the closet with a towel wrapped around me. I picked out a lingerie set and wore it while humming a tuneless song under my breath. I would wear a simple dress because it was just a simple dinner, at least I hoped so.
Before I wore the dress, I noticed the bra strap was loose. I reached back to tighten it, and the clasp snagged on itself, stuck at an angle I couldn’t quite reach. I moved to the mirror to see what I was dealing with, but I caught a reflection that froze my hands.
Dmitri stood in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. I spun around, my heart racing. He didn’t move or perform even the minimum courtesy of pretending he hadn’t been looking.
“I was dressing,” my voice came out thin.
He stepped inside and walked toward me. I backed against the mirror, the glass cooling my bare skin.
Dmitri closed the distance, and before I could process, his hands rose to my shoulders.
My breath caught in my throat. He pulled me off the mirror and held me against his chest. His cologne wrapped around me the same moment his body’s heat did.
I stood very still and told myself this was a normal situation.
“What are you doing?” I managed. His fingers brushed along my shoulder, tracing the path of the stubborn strap. He caught the clasp and began working on it. “I think I can do it.”
His fingers moved against my skin, and the adjustment shifted.
“How is that?” His voice reached my ear, the warmth of his breath sliding down my neck. My eyes closed. “Tight?” he asked.
I exhaled. “Yes. No.” I didn’t even know. “Yes.”
He made a soft sound in his throat, but I didn’t try to figure it out because his lips brushed my earlobe.
I could have argued that it was accidental, but the position he was holding me in was just as intimate as what he was doing to me.
His fingers moved along the strap again, and I genuinely could not tell what he was adjusting anymore.
“How about that?”
“I think—” My body shifted, and I froze when I felt something pressing against my stomach. My entire nervous system sent up a flare. I swallowed. “Good.”
“Good?”
I nodded, understanding that I needed to create distance before my body signed me off.
My hands moved to his chest to push him back and met a wall of muscle that stopped the plan entirely.
My fingers spread across him, and the shirt did very little to conceal what was underneath.
Each muscle pressed back against my palms. I forgot what I wanted to do.
“So, you like what you are touching?”
I pulled my hands off his chest and stepped back. “No. No. Thank you.” I said it fast, hoping the momentum would carry him out of the closet.
He didn’t move. I looked up and found him already watching me, his eyes aimed at my mouth. A thought occurred to me, and I wondered what his lips would taste like. Would he kiss the way he did everything else, with that infuriating certainty? It had been long enough since I kissed.
“Is your mouth a virgin?”
I blinked away from his lips when he asked that. He was still looking at my lips, which meant I stared at his lips long enough for him to ask that.
“I know… how to kiss,” I said.
The faint smile that crossed his face suggested he found that stupid.
“Very funny.” His hand moved along my jaw until his fingers curled around my throat. The pressure wasn’t a grip and wasn’t very comfortable. I tilted my chin up, and we stayed there, his eyes dropping to my lips before coming back to mine.
“Have you ever been fucked in your mouth?” he asked, and I shook my head. “Still a virgin.”
He leaned in, and my lips parted on instinct, embarrassingly ready. He stopped just short of closing the distance and stayed there for a few seconds.
“I want to fuck your pretty mouth.” His words dropped into my stomach and pooled there.
“You can leave or get on your knees,” he declared, stepping back to give me the space to make a decision, which was somehow worse than not having one.
“Get dressed and walk out before I finish undressing, and I’ll take that as a no. ”
His fingers moved to his shirt buttons and worked through them. I stood on the same square foot of floor, telling myself to move, to reach for the dress, to be a reasonable person who made reasonable choices.
He dropped the shirt.
I didn’t move.
His hands moved to his belt with the same calm, and I told myself I was simply processing the situation.
His trousers fell, and the situation became clearer, making my stomach drop.
He was naked, not decoratively so; he was thick, heavy, and already certain of himself.
That explained entirely what pressed against my stomach earlier.
“On your knees, Inna.”
My chest rose and fell. I looked up at his face and found desire sitting openly. I wanted to name this as gratitude, a reasonable accounting of everything he’d given Cole and me. But that accounting didn’t hold. I knew it because of the heat moving through me. It had nothing to do with debt.
I wanted to. That was the whole truth.
I lowered myself to my knees. His shadow fell over me, and the look in his eyes turned my stomach over. He was right in front of me, and he fully intended to use my mouth. Some part of me, which I forgot to consult, wondered whether I could take all of him in my mouth.