Chapter Eighteen - Ryurik
It took a few days for her to agree, but after a couple of arguments, Emily decided it was for the best.
“I want to be clear. This isn’t because I care about you. I want to save Laura. I have to. I can’t let her sit and rot in that hospital after all the years she’s spent caring for me. She’s the only mother I’ve ever known and want to know.”
“Understood. But you’re going to marry me whether you like it or not.”
She dabbed at her eyes as I stood in the suite in front of her. I said nothing, but inside her speech tore me apart. I envied her connection with Laura and what she was willing to do to save her. Yes. My family would do the same if they needed, but because of the money I have, they probably wouldn’t have to.
I didn’t know a love like the one she was so willing to defend. I grew up normally, but the expectations placed on my shoulders were extremely high. I hung out with friends and street rats my parents didn’t approve of, but today those dedicated and loyal street rats are my valiant soldiers sprawled out on the streets of Chicago, choking out the competition until they are no longer, and we run this town under Bratva rule. My cousins and I are close, but we fight for territory, power, and the highest seat in the Pakhan. It’s not the nurturing cozy type of relationship it could be, so yes, Emily’s loyalty to her adopted mother is admirable.
She doesn’t have a job anymore for the Chicago police force. Besides she doesn’t need it, and I will make it so she never has to work again. Unless she chooses to. That part will be left out for now. I don’t want her to think it’s an immediate option. Emily’s going to raise our child and make sure she has what she needs and that’s what is most important.
September 18 has arrived and as I stand near the altar with my immediate Bratva family surrounding me, I’m nervous. There’s a hard tick in my chest as the traditional wedding music echoes through the chamber of the small chapel. Picking it on autopilot, I’m not sure if it’s the best option in the first place. I’m not overly religious, but it feels right to marry Emily in a chapel.
Dimitri, Ruslan, Viktor, and my mother and father are present, having met Emily briefly during the week in a rushed family introduction. Adjusting my tie, I feel uneasy knowing it didn’t go so well. Emily barely spoke the entire time as my mother badgered her with inappropriate comments about the Chicago police department and disgracing the Bratva.
“Only time will tell if you’re fit to be a part of this family, but taking down my son isn’t going to work well for you.”
I didn’t want them at odds, and inside I hated the bitter resentment shining in Emily’s eyes. As she walks down the aisle, my heart expands, pricks of heat behind my eyes. She looks like a princess in her cream wedding dress, showing off her curves. Her decolletage is on display, but it’s tasteful with a plunging neckline, the draping hugging her figure in all the right places.
The bottom half of the dress flares out from her curvy hips, adding sophistication and class to her, elevating her look. From head to toe she is breathtakingly beautiful. The stylist did a fantastic job and her makeup is flawless, like her. Standing up straight, I watch as she takes every step closer to me, thinking about our life together. There’s something special about her, and I want to know more. I might not have married her on the right terms, but we can end on high.
“You look beautiful,” I whisper, words not enough to describe how I feel about her, but as she places her soft hands in mine, I clasp mine over the top to stop them from trembling, sadness covered up with her eyes. My heart sinks a little.
It’s what I have to do. Bratva rules this way. What else could I do?
A deep part of me doesn’t want to ruin her life like this, and it’s my fault as much as it is hers. I could have worn protection, but maybe it’s supposed to be by design that it’s this way. I can’t think about marrying another woman. Emily Wilson has been my secret obsession since I locked eyes with her on the dance floor in the club.
“Thank you. You look handsome too,” she replies in a muffled voice with a quick glance. I’m not looking any different than all the other major events I’m forced to attend in a navy-blue suit, silver tie and a crisp white shirt. Emily in her dress is the star of the show.
Smiling, we both look to the priest to bond us together in holy matrimony, my associates and parents looking on at the fake marriage. If there’s one quality I’ve discovered about Emily, it’s that she’s loyal. She’s willing to sacrifice her life for a woman who did the same for her.
“Please repeat the vows after me. I, Ryurik Utkin, take you, Emily Wilson to be my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward.”
Repeating the words, Emily’s hands shake even more as I hold them study, rubbing the backs of them, the dappled multicolored light from the stained glass shining through as the perfect backdrop. Sighing, I smile at her, serious about my vows repeating the priest’s words to her.
When it’s her turn, I loosen my hands, hers still, lip quivering as she delivers the lines.
“For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health.” Her words waver as she speaks, but she follows through, a burst of euphoria rushing as fast as a river through my veins.
“You may now kiss the bride.” I lower my head, excited to kiss her satiny lips again, never having tasted as fine a wine as her. It was my golden rule not to kiss any of the women I fucked, but Emily turned me into a cardinal sinner, and she’s the one I broke it with. It makes complete sense for me to marry the only woman who backed me into that corner. A fire erupts inside me, thinking of how this kiss is a prelude for what’s bound to happen tonight. She’s responsive enough as our mouths connect in a light kiss, colliding like two sparks. When I open my eyes, I know she felt it too.
Emily. If you only know what you do to me.
She belongs to me, and this time she can’t escape. There’s no lengthy after wedding reception photos and definitely no fanfare. Ours is a silent and controlled agreement where both parties understand the consequences. Our signatures are scrawled in ink, binding us together to obtain our marriage license, and afterwards we return to our home via the town car. This one is not the downtown apartment where I held her captive, but our real home together on the outskirts of Chicago. Clasping her hand in the back of the town car, I pour her a sparkling water in celebration.
“Here you go.” Handing it to her, she takes it—shy, but sipping, her face displaying confusion as the driver passes by the Magnificent Mile. Smirking, I squeeze her hand, but she discreetly pulls it back.
“What is it?”
“I knew it.” Emily glances in my direction as the driver slices through the traffic with Viktor in a separate car trailing behind towards my place. “You have two homes.”
“Yes. Well. No. Technically, I have five, but those other three are real estate investments. The one you were in is for the times I’m working late, and it’s too far for me to come home. I conduct much of my business from there,” I explain as Emily nods in recognition, her body guarded from mine. I’ve got my work cut out if I want to break down her defenses. “It would never be my home; it’s too small.”
“Of course not,” she stabs back, her eyes slicing through me. “You’re a billionaire,” she mutters as I study her. “It’s a shame about how you make your money.”
I ignore her judgment, choosing to only respond to the billionaire remark. “Not quite. My cousin is, but I’m in the ballpark,” I reason with a disarming grin, knowing soon if I join the Vegas venture with Paul that I’m going to be right up there with them.
“Right. Another place you’re taking me.”
“Don’t worry. This one’s home,” I tell her as we move through the iron wrought gates to the driveway, the sprawling gardens, immaculate as we approach my small mansion with its pillars holding up the foundation of the two-story home.
“It’s fantastic,” Emily compliments, the smile planted on her face displaying sadness, but somehow it only makes her even more beautiful.
“Yes. And now it’s yours too to share and enjoy with me as we build our family together.” The light dims in her eyes just a touch, but we warm up as I give her the grand house tour explaining that she’s free to come and go as she pleases. No more lock up. But by nightfall, as she sits sulking on the couch in her silk pajamas, the warmth has run out.
She’s holding on to one of the pillows for dear life, and it clicks as I put the puzzle together. “Ah, do you plan on sleeping out here?” I chuckle, because I’m not letting her do that. “Get back to the bedroom.”
“No, why should I?” she whines, her curls still intact from styling.
“Because I’m your husband now. You signed the papers, and you’re going to do what I say. Besides there’s no point sulking over a filthy cop.”
The comment grabs her attention, her head jerking up as I smile slowly back at her with a nod. “What did you say?”
“I think you heard me just fine. Willy enjoyed his kickbacks, but he got a little too comfortable in his position.” Emily stares at me unblinking, her body stiffening as she registers the shocking truth. “Quiet now, are we?” I taunt.
“Nice fucking try, Ryurik. Willy would never betray his department,” she hisses, her fiery passion igniting me even more as she punches the pillow.
“Everybody has their price, beautiful wifey. Now come to bed.” I stroke her head, but she swats me away, amusing me greatly. I’ve got her right where I want her.
“Shut up. This is a game to you. You won’t have one to play by the time I’m done,” she threatens. Smirking, I sit down at the end of the couch, tickling her padded feet. She retracts them, but she’s smiling. “ Don’t! I’m ticklish. Stop, Ryurik,” she whines, giving rise to a smile on my lips.
“There you are. Don’t be so stubborn. We have a queen-size bed and it’s very comfortable. Or would you prefer I carry you over my shoulder to the bedroom?”
Emily plays at giving me a horrified glance, but after a few seconds, she moves . Good. She’s got brattiness inside her, and will probably still challenge me, but I vow to tame that trait in her. I’ve got the right tools to sway her.
There’s a smile playing on her sweet and tasty mouth, and her playing hard to get won’t last long. I walk behind her, the trail of her scent intoxicating me, but I’m not ready for her sassy comeback as we head into my bedroom.
“Just because you run companies and evade the law, it doesn’t mean you run me, Ryurik. Don’t forget, I’m carrying your child,” she reminds me, a touch of spite laced in her tone. Instantly, my cock rises. This is why I want her to be my wife. She’s not as afraid of me as I think she is.
I cut the distance between us, tipping up her chin to me. “Don’t play at hating me. It’s not as cute as you think it is. You want me, like I want you,” I tell her, dipping to nibble on her earlobe, her body shivering in response. Her full breasts squish against my body, as I drag her close, dropping my hand to cup her full ass.
“I should fucking arrest you,” she says breathily. My official resignation day hasn’t come and gone yet. I hate you,” she lies under her breath.
Chuckling, I bend, kissing her open mouth, enjoying the display of her seductive fire and unbuttoning her pajama shirt slowly, fascinated by her as it drops to the floor.
“Then let’s have make-up sex,” I growl, helping myself to holding the weight of her breast in my palm, skimming my thumb over her hardened nipples. The lack of light in the room soothes us both as I explore, excited to have her in my bed permanently. “Does that mean you want to be on top?” I offer in suggestion as she sighs into my touch.
“What are you doing to me?” she pants, her caramel eyes questioning through the room’s dimness as I slip her pajama top and bra all the way off.
“I’m seducing you, isn’t it obvious?” I let my hands run through her curled brunette locks, taking my time.
“You’re lying about Willy,” she states, running her greedy hands over my chest. I murmur, kissing her mouth, my cock growing harder as I kiss from shoulder blade to breast.
“No. I’m not.”
“Ryurik.” Her whisper ignites the fire I’ve been holding inside as I lick more, making her forget about her loyalty to the force. Now she’s loyal to me. The Bratva. Emily feels like everything right. A potent flash of red-hot desire rushes through my veins, igniting with passion as I enclose Emily’s full breast in my mouth. I ravish one, listening to her moan, before moving to the other one, licking and flicking while her eyes watch the show.
Emily finds the tail end of my shirt, hungrily yanking it up over my head.
“You might as well take this off. You need to be naked for this arrest,” she confirms roughly, her pity-pouting gone, replaced with our clingy thirst to merge with one another. “We’re married.” There’s a finality in her tone, but I’m too wired to focus on it.
“Yes. Married,” I murmur. The prospect of settling into life with Emily sounding better than expected to me. Her hands immediately unbuckle my belt, dropping my pants. I’m surprised again by Emily’s rawness, a side I imagined she displayed as a detective, but not like this—not in the bedroom.
I’m thinking I should hold myself back, but it’s not the mode Emily’s in. She takes over pushing me lightly in the chest to the queen bed, and I let her, enjoying it. She laughs rolling, and pinning me on my back, my hard pre-cum glistening head waiting to enter her, but instead she gives me the gift of her juicy mouth, slurping on my cock, drawing out the stress as I watch her ambitious lips take in as much of me as she can. I groan low in my throat, enjoying the warm tingles flowing through the tip. This is an arrest of the best kind.
I keep my hands on Emily’s head, my cock disappearing in and out of her mouth. Pleasure mounts, and I restrain her from making me come, but she’s left me on red, coming up just in time to spread her round cheeks over my cock and bounce down on me, her breasts rhythmically moving in tune.
Her hair flies around her face, and with the way she’s moving, I think it’s an anger and frustration she’s releasing, but I match her pace, the wedding night not turning out like I thought it would. I like every part of it, lost in awe as I grip her ass and she grits her teeth, wanting the hard, fast coming.
“Yes! Ryurik. I’m close.”
“I didn’t know you were like this,” I groan, mid-pant as her hips groove aggressively. She’s the best type of distraction with her alluring, “curves in the right places” body.
“Not the wedding night you planned, is it?” she asks, her brown eyes sparkling as she takes charge, a fine sheen of sweat on her brow. I want to laugh, but Emily’s hard grinding, has me tinkering close to the edge, and I’m barely concentrating on holding on.
“No. You’re a hellcat, and I like it. You’re not scaring me,” I respond with a growl as she pants, the bounce of her breasts increasing as I grip, digging into her flesh, pulling her cheeks further apart, and taking control flipping her over while she laughs.
“Couldn’t help yourself, could you?” She grins in challenge, but I smile, thrusting deeply into her pussy’s warmth, wanting to lose myself in her. I wrap her legs around my back, pumping into her, timing myself as I finger her clit. Closing my eyes I join her, hissing as I let go of everything, floating out to sea with her on a sharp, intense wave of orgasm, both of us crashing into shore together.
Panting, but exhilarated, I fall back, never having felt such a deep connection with a woman before, even if we did start on tainted ground. “Fuck. That was—”
“Intense?” she offers, splaying a hand over my sweaty chest.
“Yes. There’s a word. You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
“No. Never. I’m a Chicago detective; remember that.” And I watch as Emily peels the covers back, heading to the bathroom, and all I can do is watch in amazement.