Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Katherine
I played with my wedding ring, twirling it between my fingers.
I fucked up. I cheated on Ivan.
Because no matter how much I tried to convince myself that I had to do it, deep down, I knew the truth. I wanted it. And I craved to have more of him.
I had taken a long bath after Dimitry had finished on me, but I could still feel his taste on my tongue.
The way he had taken control, using me as if I was a fucktoy and nothing more … God, it had turned me on more than anything else. Even now, at the mere thought of him and his dominance my body buzzed alive.
I never felt something like that before, such a primal, raw desire. I actually wanted to please him. Ivan didn’t care about my pleasure, and so, I’d long since stopped caring about his. Our sex life, as much as it existed, was … mechanical. Clinical. Cold.
But with Dimitry, fuck, it had felt surreally perfect each time. He’d easily made me feel so good, even when I knew I shouldn’t have allowed myself to. It was wrong, not just because I was married, but also because I was his captive.
I still could lie to my husband. He didn’t need to know what I actually felt while sucking on Dimitry.
I cuddled up in a ball and hugged myself, keeping the ring in my fist. I’d wanted to put it on, but the guilt stopped me. It was also obvious to me that Dimitry hated seeing me wearing it. Why would he have it taken off that night, otherwise?
I wasn’t sure which reason was stronger, or maybe I didn’t want to admit what I already knew.
The sound of the door opening caught my attention. Dimitry entered, carrying a tray of food. My stomach rumbled as the delicious aroma filled the room. Chicken breasts, creamy mashed potatoes, and Medovik. My favorites.
I’d refused to eat earlier. No matter how Dimitry had treated me, I didn’t trust him or his men enough. I was pretty sure he wasn’t going to poison me, but what if he or anyone else decided to drug me? I couldn’t lose the little control I still had.
A small part of me insisted he wouldn’t do something like that. Still, I’d forced myself to refuse the food they had brought. No matter how much my weaker side begged, I’d listened only to reason.
Dimitry placed the tray beside me, and my stomach let out another growl.
“These are your favorites, aren’t they?”
I narrowed my eyes as he sat on the bed.
“How do you know?”
“I have my sources. Eat.”
That had definitely been an order, and that irritated me and made my inner brat snort. Why was he so eager to see me eating this? Did he put something in it? I glanced again at the food, and my stomach churned.
Fuck, it looks so good.
“Katherine. Eat!”
“No, thank you,” I replied coldly.
How the fuck does he know these are my comfort foods? I don’t remember eating them when outside, our chef was always preparing them for me at home. Does he have spies in Ivan’s house?
Dimitry took the knife and fork, cutting the food into slices. I swallowed hard, realizing I’d noticed the cutlery earlier but hadn’t even thought of using it as a weapon. Shouldn’t that have been my first instinct? To try to hurt or kill him?
Dimitry took a few pieces of chicken breasts and mashed potatoes, his eyes fixed on mine as he chewed. Once swallowing, he made a perfect bite for me and brought it to my lips.
“I don’t poison or drug people or whatever you imagine, kitten. I kill directly, and if I wanted you dead, you would already be. Now eat.”
His voice was level, the authority in it making me feel a strange mix of arousal and irritation. Why did he care if I ate or not? That was my problem, not his. My stomach protested, but I held my ground.
“Katya.”
I knew it was safe to eat, and yet, the fact that he was ordering me to accept it strengthened my stubbornness. As I crossed my arms across my chest, I accidentally dropped the wedding ring.
Before I could pick it up, he took it from me. A pang of guilt hit me as I realized I didn’t care. Another pang hit me as I realized I wasn’t thinking just about the ring.
“I’ll give it back after you eat.”
I looked at him again. What the hell was his plan? Did he just want to make sure I wouldn’t starve to death and ruin his scheme against my husband?
Dimitry sighed and rolled his eyes.
“We can stay all night and debate this, but you’re going to end up eating something.”
I raised a brow, my inner slut suddenly awakened. Before I could stop myself, I asked, “Something?”
Fuck, what the hell was I doing? Was I flirting with him? Well, a naughty part of me had some lewd ideas about what I could eat, though. My eyes fell to his crotch, and a flush of heat claimed my neck and face as I saw his bulge growing right under my gaze.
Okay, I had to admit, that made me feel powerful.
“God, you’re going to be the death of me,” he groaned, exasperated. “Katya, I’m serious. Eat. Now.”
He brought the food again to my mouth, the delicious smell making my stomach growl. I wasn’t sure if it was my hunger or the authority on his voice, or the filthy thoughts that had floated through my head earlier, but I parted my lips and took the bite.
“Good girl.”
Fuck!
I almost choked on the food. Tingles of electricity ran under my skin and slickness flooded my pussy. Why was it so arousing to hear him say those two words to me? Dimitry smirked, and I cursed myself realizing he had noticed my reaction.
Yet, as he brought another bite to my lips, I obeyed. Partly because I was starving, partly because a slutty side of me wanted to hear him saying them again. Yeah, I refused to acknowledge that side of me.
I tried to take the fork from him, but he held it firmly.
“No. Let me. Just in case you decide to try and stab me with it,” Dimitry said with a chuckle.
“The knife would be a better option,” I said, touching the cold metal.
Dimitry laughed and fed me another mouthful, completely ignoring my hand on the knife. I had no idea what he was trying to do or prove. What was he thinking? This man was a fucking dark mystery, and I mentally kicked myself once again realizing how drawn to him I was.
As he fed me, I waged a mental battle with myself. I shouldn’t let him do this. It felt too intimate, too vulnerable. It scared me. Ivan had never done anything like this for me. Neither had I for him.
“Good girl,” Dimitry said with a triumphant, arrogant grin as he fed me the last one.
I flushed, avoiding his gaze as a rush of warmth jumped through me. Desperate for distraction, I picked up the dessert spoon and took a piece of Medovik. But instead of eating it, I brought it to his mouth.
I wanted to believe it was because I needed to be sure it wasn’t poisoned. He didn’t taste the cake, after all.
But another part of me knew that I just wanted to do it. I felt the need to … to what? To feed him? To take care of him?
Fuck! What the hell is wrong with me? What was the medical term? Stockholm syndrome? Yeah, I’m going to blame it on that!
Dimitry stared at me for a second before accepting the mouthful. Tingles swirled through me as he wrapped his lips around it and my mind instantly went haywire with filthy fantasies about having his mouth on me.
God, I’m married! I have to stop this.
But instead of that, I found myself offering him a second one. Electricity pricked my hair as he wrapped his fingers around my hand and guided it to my lips.
“Your turn, crazy kitten.”
I obeyed, moaning as I tasted the honey sweetness. It had been some time since I had asked our chef, Aleksei, to make it for me. Something vibrated inside my core as he guided my hand again and again, feeding me more of the cake.
“How did you know these are my favorites?” I asked again.
I expected him to give me the same answer. Dimitry accepted the next mouthful I offered to him, and given the way he looked at me, I could tell he was studying me.
“Some of your husband’s men work for me,” he said in the end.
I stopped with my hand in mid-air. Dimitry smiled and gently took the spoon from me, feeding me the last bites. While I accepted them, he continued to talk.
“Your chef, Aleksei. Your driver, Yuri. Your maid, Alina. Your bodyguard, Vasiliy. And more.”
I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but no sound left my lips. Those people had worked for Ivan for years. He could have ordered them to kill me and Ivan anytime.
Why didn’t he?
“I prefer direct confrontations, Katherine,” he said, almost as if he had read my mind. “But I like to stay one step ahead and know everything about my enemies.”
“Do you have spies in my father’s house, too?”
I didn’t expect an honest answer, but I hoped I could gauge his reactions enough to guess the truth. Dimitry surprised me as he nodded.
“Tatyana, Yakov, Yuri and Marina. Romanov hadn’t been on my radar, so I rarely asked for information from them. That was a mistake, since if I did, I would have known you’re his daughter.”
The confession shocked me. Why was he honest? Assuming he actually was.
Is he going to kill me? After all, now that I know this … does he have more people in Papa’s house? He was clear about being more in Ivan’s, but …
“Katya,” he murmured, and the gentleness in his voice surprised me.
He trailed his fingers through my hair, the gesture covering me in goosebumps. He skimmed them along the line of my face, and as he cupped my cheek, I instinctively leaned into his touch.
I shouldn’t have done it, I knew, but the wave of warmth the feeling of his hand had sent to me had been too strong.
I wasn’t used to this kind of tenderness, and it surprised me to have him, of all men, showing it to me. Ivan barely knew the notion of foreplay, let alone anything else. I closed my eyes, and for a moment, all the chaotic thoughts and emotions stopped.
“Katya, I have a question. I want you to be honest.”
I opened my eyes and looked at him. Dimitry’s voice still held that note of gentleness, stirring something deep inside me. He straightened and pushed the tray aside. I didn’t move as he shifted closer.
“Do you know your father is sick? After Sergei told me about it, I asked Tatyana, and she confirmed that he has chronic kidney disease.”
The words hit me like a punch. No, I didn’t know. The last time I saw him, he seemed tired, but I’d chalked it up to age and stress. Tears pricked my eyes, blurring my vision. This couldn’t be happening. Not him.
Papa…
“Katya, kitten,” Dimitry whispered.
The softness in his voice broke me. Dimitry tensed as I threw myself into his arms, sobbing. He stayed motionless for a few seconds before hugging me tightly and pressing me to him.
“Tatyana told me he’s under treatment and that he’ll be getting a new transplant soon. The Romanov Bratva has money problems, but he’ll be fine.”
“A new transplant!?” I whimpered.
God, how many things had my dad hidden from me? Since when was he fighting with this problem? He should have told me! At least I wouldn’t have bothered him with my fucked-up marriage. I would have supported him. I could have made sure he had enough money so he wouldn’t have to stress about it. If necessary, I would have throttled Ivan until he gave him any sum of money he needed.
“Tatyana said he already had one, but something went wrong. She didn’t know exactly what happened, but the doctor said he needed a new transplant. Your dad is looking for a new donor.”
Oh, God…
I fisted his shirt, nestling myself against his chest as I let my tears out. He should have told me! I was his daughter, for fuck’s sake. I would have been there for him, no matter what!
And fuck, Dimitry had told me Dad had offered him money in exchange for my freedom. If our bratva was already in a bad place financially … God, did he still have enough for the treatment?
Dimitry caressed me, making soothing, slow circles on my back with his palm. I hid my face in his neck, still sobbing. And then I realized who he was. In whose arms I actually was right now.
He’s going to use this moment of weakness against me. Against Papa. Against anyone he could.
“I’m sorry,” I said, leaning back. “I shouldn’t…”
Dimitry hugged me again and pressed me into him. Despite knowing better, I let him do it. It was just for a moment. One single moment of weakness, nothing more. I buried my face in the crook of his neck and allowed him to caress and soothe me.
“He will be fine, Katherine,” he said in a calm voice. “I promise you, he will be fine.”