14. Cora
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
cora
My phone dinged.
Maxim: how’s your new pet
Me: he’s good - eats a lot
Maxim: Conall said you have a dress fitting today
Me:
Maxim: Don’t be like that, zayka - you’re going to look beautiful. You’ve been a good girl, haven’t you?
Me: I’m getting a black dress
Me: Yes, I’ve been good.
Maxim: If that’s what you want to wear, I don’t give a fuck. Wear whatever you want as long as you meet me at the end of the aisle.
The text made me almost dizzy. Did he mean that? He didn’t care what I wore? I’d been having some irrational anxiety about walking down the aisle in some frou-frou number.
Me: Really?
Maxim: Really
I flopped back on the couch, letting the phone lay on my stomach for a moment. I wasn’t looking forward to going dress shopping. I wasn’t a fan of wedding dresses in general, but I especially wasn’t a fan of lace or extra feminine things. It was probably because I’d not had girly friends — or friends … to shop with. I didn’t have any idea of what to buy. Conall had informed me that I had an appointment at a shop and that Finn would take me. It depressed me more than anything, but if Maxim didn’t care, then I’d buy something that I liked.
It couldn’t be that hard.
The shop smelled like roses and satin—overwhelming, delicate, and expensive. It wasn’t a scent I was used to, and I wasn’t sure I liked it. The weight of it seemed to settle on my chest as I followed Finn through the door, already feeling out of place.
I tugged at the hem of my t-shirt, scanning the space. Racks of pristine white gowns lined the walls like a parade of frothy, overpriced ghosts, and I had no idea where to start.
“This is awkward,” I muttered under my breath.
“What is?” Finn asked, his voice low as he glanced around.
“Everything about this,” I admitted. “I don’t belong in a place like this. And you don’t belong here either.”
Finn grinned. “Fair point. But I’m the one who drew the short straw.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re getting paid.”
He chuckled and gestured for me to go ahead. “Come on. Might as well get it over with.”
I sighed and stepped inside, trying to ignore how small I felt. I didn’t have girlfriends to bring along for this, and I wished I had. Growing up in Dublin, I’d never really had those kinds of friendships—not with my family’s life looming over me. My brothers had always been enough, but now they were out hunting the shooter, and Finn was the only one left to take me.
Finn wasn’t exactly a friend. I barely knew him; having him here only made the whole thing feel more awkward.
A petite woman with sleek black hair and a tape measure draped around her neck approached me, smiling brightly and practiced. “You must be Cora,” she said, her gaze flicking to Finn. “And you must be?—”
“Not the fiancée,” Finn cut in with a grin. “Just the chauffeur.”
I looked at the woman with an apologetic expression. “The fiancée couldn’t make it,” I said. He’s… busy.
The woman, whose name turned out to be Elise, nodded sympathetically. “Let’s get started, then.”
The next hour felt endless. Elise and her team brought out gown after gown, each more elaborate than the last. I stood before a gilded mirror as they zipped, clipped, and cinched me into a rotating collection of satin, lace, and tulle.
“Too much,” I said, eyeing one dress that seemed to have swallowed me whole.
Elise chuckled. “We’ll find the right one. Sometimes, it just takes a little patience.”
Patience wasn’t my strong suit.
Finn lounged in a corner, looking far too amused by the entire process. He offered occasional commentary—“That one’s not bad” or “You look like a cupcake in that”—but mostly, he kept quiet.
I sighed, staring at my reflection in the mirror. I wasn’t used to being on display like this, and the loneliness of it pressed against my ribs. My life was filled with men—brothers and bodyguards—and in this moment, I missed the kind of easy support I’d seen other women have.I even missed those early days in that crappy apartment when we were hiding out, and it felt like my brothers and I were close. Now, they seemed far away.
The door chimed, and I glanced toward the sound.
My heart lurched as Maxim strode into the shop, looking sharp and impossibly confident. He wasn’t supposed to be here, and his sudden presence stole the air from the room.
“Maxim,” I said, startled. “What are you doing here?”
His eyes softened as they found mine, his lips curving into a faint smile. “I had some time,” he said, as though that explained everything.
Finn straightened, muttering something under his breath before leaving the shop. “Cora, text me when you’re done. Yeah? I’m going to go get a smoke.”
“Okay.”
Elise looked delighted, her professional demeanor never faltering. “Mr. Volkov, we were just trying some options. Would you like to see?”
Maxim nodded, stepping closer to me. His gaze swept over my gown, lingering in a way that made my cheeks heat.
“It’s… fine,” he said, his voice warm but firm. “But it’s not you.”
I blinked. “Not me?”
He tilted his head, studying me. “You need something simpler. Classic. Something that fits who you are.”
I didn’t know whether to be flattered or annoyed, but his confidence was disarming.
“Classic, huh?” I said, crossing my arms. “And you think you know what that looks like?”
He smirked, leaning in slightly. “That doesn’t matter. She does.”
Elise didn’t miss a beat. She disappeared into the back and returned with a sleek satin gown, minimalist and striking.
“Let’s try that on.” Maxim gestured to the changing room.
Nodding, I followed Elise and let her assistants help me out of the dress I’d been laced into. The one thing I’d discovered about wedding dresses was that they were heavy, cumbersome affairs.
“I’ll take over.” Maxim stood in the doorway as if he had every right to be there, staring at me in my underwear.
Elise handed the gown to him without complaint, shooing her staff from the large changing area as if it wasn’t out of order for a tattooed man to order them around, but what did I know? Maybe it wasn’t. “Of course, Mr. Volkov.” She practically curtsied.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I hissed.
I wasn’t ashamed of my body exactly. Even in this 360-degree mirror with every flaw on display, every divot and mark, I wasn’t going to hide or cower. If he didn’t like my curves, then that was too bad, but thank God I’d worn my nicest set of underwear. Elise had already taken my measurements and set aside wedding lingerie for me, saying what I had wasn’t acceptable. She’d frowned at my practical cotton like it was a personal affront.
“Helping you into your dress, of course.”
He came close, pooling the material around my feet, so I had to set a hand on his shoulders to step into it. He paused for a moment, kneeling at my feet, his dark eyes looking up at me — wicked.
“You’re so beautiful, Cora. I like to be on my knees for you.”
I liked that thought, too.
He raised the dress, his fingers grazing the sides of my legs as he went. I couldn’t take my eyes off him even as he pulled the dress higher, gathering the fabric at the waist as he stood behind me and yanked me to him.
I looked flushed in the mirror, and he loomed behind me, his hands locked at my hips, crushing the fabric. His fingers were digging into my hip bones, and I could see one creeping toward my panty line. My breath came out in a harsh exhale. Please let him touch me. I might even beg. I’d been thinking about him since last week.
“Max.”
“Do you want me to touch you?” he asked silkily.
“Yes.” The admission broke from me as he bent to kiss the nape of my neck. I desperately wanted his hands on me.
“I’ve been thinking about you, zayka.” His voice was guttural as he slid his fingers into my panties with a groan, sliding between my folds. “You’re so wet.” He rocked against me, and I realized with satisfaction that he was as turned on as I was, if the giant cock against my ass was any indication.
“Look in the mirror,” he commanded.
I’d let my eyes fall shut as I concentrated on the feelings that he was pulling from my body as he circled my clit and gently thrust a finger inside my entrance, but I did as he asked. We looked — sinful and right.
Those tattooed hands did something to me.
I groaned and ground up into his palm.
“That’s right, I’m going to give you what you need. Watch.” My chest was flushed red. My lips parted as he thrust another thick finger into me, letting the digits begin a relentless rhythm inside my channel. “I can’t wait to fuck you. To taste you. Slide my tongue inside you. Spank you like I promised. I will, zayka. You’ll be naughty, won’t you?”
I nodded. I felt hazy and warm, and it was surreal as he pumped, flicked, and nibbled at my ear.
“You feel so swollen and ripe for me, zayka. If I looked at the pretty pussy it would be pink, wouldn’t it? Dripping? Is that how you feel inside? Like you’re ready for my cock?”
He rocked against me in motion to my hand, gripping me to him like a lifeline, making me wonder if he’d come in his pants. The feeling burst over me in a crescendo of sensation, and I threw my head back onto his shoulders with a sigh as it rushed over me. I’d not known it could be like that. I’d been missing out.
He cupped my pussy protectively for a few more moments and kissed my temple.
“Soon, my cock will be here. I’d take you now, but you’ll scream too loud. I’m going to ruin you,” he promised.
He slid his fingers from me and raised them to his mouth. I watched in fascination when he licked them clean. “Delicious.” He sent me a smirk. “Soon, I’ll be able to spread you out on our bed and bury my head in that sweet little pussy of yours. Make you come over and over.”
The thought of him between my legs sent a wave of heat through me. I wished it could happen now.
“Be good, zayka.”
Pulling the straps up over my shoulders, he slid the zipper up.
Maxim’s expression softened as his gaze met mine in the mirror. “Now this,” he said, his voice like a caress, “is you.”
The dress didn’t try to turn me into someone else—it just let me be .It was extraordinarily simple, with no sleeves, no lace, or jewels. The skirt was full and generous, the fabric luxurious, the neck square, and it was white but plain. And — it had pockets. I loved it.
Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.
“Isn’t it bad luck for you to see the wedding gown?”
“I make my own luck, zayka.”
Figures he would say that.
Turning me, he set his mouth on mine and proceeded to rock my world. I’d been kissed a few times by inept boys, once in school and once down by the pub, but they were sloppy, and it seemed like they didn’t know what to do with their tongues. But like everything else, Maxim made it feel like everything was as natural as my heart beating. His fingers threaded through my hair until they met my scalp, grabbing hold of the roots as he deepened the kiss, delving into my mouth, biting and tasting — exploring. Each taste seemed like another opportunity to show his dominance over me.
When he finally pulled away, I was breathless, my cheeks flushed, and my lips swollen. I wouldn’t deny I looked thoroughly kissed, but Elise was professional, and her staff rallied.
She hadn’t liked our choice of gowns, declaring it too simple for such a grand affair, but Maxim had shut that down right away after seeing my face, even after she’d argued against the practicality of such a gown for a winter wedding.
I left the shop with my gown ordered and a veil made of the most gossamer of Chantilly laces. If, for one day, I’d be wearing a dress, I was happy that I’d be wearing that one.
Later, when I sat in the back of the SUV, I ignored Finn to hang onto the feelings that Maxim had left me with. I wanted to savor the heady sensation of falling hard into the whirlpool that Maxim seemed to bring with him. He was sucking me further and further into this vortex of desperate desire. Suddenly, it didn’t seem so bad that I was stuck marrying him.