Chapter 18 Elena
CHAPTER 18
ELENA
Viking held a gun to his own head. Elena’s heart stopped. For a few precious seconds, she couldn’t feel it beating. Maybe it would never start again. Then she heard a click, a sound so small and loud at the same time. Her knees buckled.
Sy hauled her back up to his side.
“I think I’m going to be sick.” Her stomach obviously agreed with her because the next second she heaved. She rushed to the bathroom and hung over the toilet bowl. It took several minutes to empty the contents of her stomach.
When she returned, she found Sy still standing at the window. His hands were in his pockets, his stance relaxed. She didn’t know what to say. All she knew was she had been so close to losing Viking. Feeling sick to her stomach again, she dropped into a recliner next to him.
A hysterical laugh escaped her lips, echoing like a cannon shot in the room. Sy turned, his eyes narrowed.
Elena couldn’t stop herself. Not even the ominous look in her brother-in-law’s eyes—oh, God, little Sy was an in-law now—could deter her.
“What the fuck.” More curse words followed as tears streamed down her face.
With her arms wrapped around her stomach, she couldn’t stop laughing. This was just too good. Fate had given her the middle finger again.
“If you knew the irony of this, you’d be laughing too,” she hiccupped. The trials and errors she had gone through to keep that man alive, and then he just callously put a gun to his head. “Click.” She clucked her tongue.
Sy swore. “Stop laughing. He’ll be here any minute and—”
“And what? He’ll lock me in a cellar again?” She sobered up. “How dare he shoot himself?” The more she thought about it the angrier she got. “How dare he!”
Sy’s brows rose and he stepped back. “Damn, Lena, you’ve lost it.”
Apparently, so had he, because he didn’t even notice his slip of the tongue, calling her by that name.
“You have no idea,” she murmured. In the past week, she had been assaulted, nearly raped, then kidnapped and imprisoned. And just today she had been forced into a marriage and watched the man she loved put a gun to his head, voluntarily. And she wasn’t even going to think about the constant fear in her stomach, from worrying about her little girl. If she allowed herself to think about that, she might really lose her marbles.
The door burst open and Viking strode in. Elena jumped up. He looked battered and bruised. She wanted to go to him, but waves of anger still clung to the air that surrounded him.
Sy beat her to it. “Glad you’re still breathing.”
The brothers gave each other a man-hug, then Viking’s eyes settled on her.
“Get your stuff. We’re leaving.”
What stuff? She looked around and remembered she didn’t even have a bag. All she had were the clothes on her back Katya had provided her with. She put on her shoes and walked up to him.
The drive to wherever they were going was done in silence. Baran sat in the driver’s seat, Viking next to her in the back. His body was tense, his muscles rigid. They hadn’t talked about what had happened, and she suspected now was not the time to broach that topic. She closed her eyes and pressed her head against the cold window. He had almost died today. He would have died thinking she had betrayed him. Believing she had broken her vow to him. Vows that hadn’t been said aloud by a justice of the peace or documented on official papers, but a vow exchanged between them nonetheless. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but the words were etched into her brain.
“You ever gonna love another man?”
“Never, Viking, never.”
“You ever cheat on me, baby, I’ll make you pay. I will hurt you every day for the rest of your life.”
“If I do, you can kill me. I’ll be dead inside anyway. No one else but you, Viking. You’re my first and will be my last.”
She’d been true to her words. True to him. Even when one man had come along and destroyed her world. And now they were married with him hating her, her resenting him. Fate had brought them back together in a twisted and cruel way, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
Sometimes you just gotta roll the dice you’ve got, Lena.
Her mom was right. Not that she had another option. Pondering the precarious situation she was in, she hardly noticed when the car stopped. Viking got out and she followed him into his downtown apartment.
Viking grabbed her hand—really, where would she run to?—and got her into an elevator to the top floor. Baran remained behind. She didn’t have a cluewhere he was staying and had no desire to find out. He wasn’t her biggest fan and the feeling was mutual.
The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. They walked into a foyer that led to a big common room with a gray carpet and black furniture. Everything screamed masculinity, from the dark, plush pillows, to the chrome kitchen in the back. Now what? She dreaded asking that question, afraid he’d follow up on his threat to lock her up for the next fifteen years. Still, she needed time to compose herself. Time to think. Preferably alone.
“What room am I—”
He grabbed her arm and slowly pushed her into a room on the right. Judging by the huge four-poster bed, it was the master bedroom, which meant it was his.There was no way she was sleeping in there with him. She hadn’t forgotten the way he had treated her so far. Unlike what he might think, she wasn’t a doormat.
“I don’t want to.”
His hand landed on her ass, hard, and she yelped.
“Don’t give a damn what you want,” he all but growled. “I’m tired. I’m moody. But most of all I’m fucking wired.”
“Good for you. Why don’t you go and unleash all that energy on—”
He closed in on her and pushed her back against the wall. “Unleash my energy? Want to know how I do that?”
As she stared into his stormy eyes, she realized she had made a mistake. She should have continued to keep her mouth shut. The way his body heat warmed her, the way his hard breathing matched her own was just too much. It was a recipe for disaster. What was it about him she found so irresistible? What was it, no matter how he treated her, she still longed for his touch? Why was she still desperate for a word of affection? Why was she still collecting breadcrumbs, hoping to find her way back into his heart?
Afraid to make another sound, she merely shook her head. No. She didn’t want to know. Didn’t need to; it was written on his face. Lust mingled with desire, pain, fatigue, and a hint, always that lingering trace, of rage.
He pressed his body against her, and she could feel his hardness.
“Let me tell you anyway. I usually pick a fight or have a fuck. So, unless you want to become a fight or a fuck, get your ass in that room, and in that bed. I’m not losing another night’s sleep watching over you, worrying where you will wander off to this time.”
Elena didn’t move. The silence between them stretched until the tension became almost unbearable. When he didn’tstep back, she cast her eyes down. He was on the brink of snapping, she could feel it, so she had to tread really carefully here. This time she decided to heed his warning.
Slowly, she pushed against his biceps. The muscles beneath her fingertips were firm and warm, so much bigger and more defined than the last time she had touched him. She wanted to caress them, kiss them. Lay her head on them, close her eyes, and forget about all her worries.
Not today…
She took a deep breath. “Please.”
His eyes went to her fingers as if only then he registered he was the one preventing her from doing as he said.
He cursed and then stepped away from her. Then he disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of water running filled the room. Her heart rate turned to normal as she realized she had averted another crisis.
Almost dizzy from relief, Elena followed inside the bedroom. She took off her clothes and looked for something to sleep in. On the recliner next to the window she noticed a black shirt. She put it on and quickly disappeared underneath the covers. She supposed she should be thankful he didn’t stuff her in the broom closet. Her eyes went to the gold ring on her finger. It was a simple band, unlike the meaning behind the gesture. She knew it held a promise. Not to cherish and love, but to keep and torment. It was a way to show his ownership over her. What did it mean for their future? Did they even have one? Or was he going to decide he wanted to become a widower any time soon? He’d told her he married her for Vicky. To save her from Vasili meant he had to own her. In their fucked-up world, it was their way. She knew how the drill went. It hadn’t been all that different in the Family. Lorenzo had married her to adhere to the rules. To do what was expected of him. Look at what that had brought her. She couldn’t imagine Viking having any better plans for her. But she also knew something every mob wife did: as a wife she had rights. Even more so as a Vory wife.
Buckle up, Viking.
Tormentor.
Lover.
Husband.