7. Roman
7
ROMAN
SONG, TILL DEATH DO US PART, ROSENFELD.
Tugging on the sleeve of my Armani pulls it down to just cover my diamond cufflinks. I haven’t pulled these out for a while, not since one of the strippers tried to steal them a few months ago.
Without the cheese, there aren’t as many mice.
“What happens if she backs out, boss?” Marco slides his sunglasses over his forehead to perch them on the top of his head.
This little chapel is dark compared to the Nevada sun scorching us outside.
“She won’t. She had my favorite look in her eyes.” I try to sound confident, but there’s a touch of nerves in my stomach. Why? I have no idea.
“Huh. What look is that?” He stretches himself out on a neon pink pew and crosses his leg.
My phone vibrates in the pocket of my jacket. For a moment, I have a flash of fear that it might be her.
“Desperation.” I answer without looking up from the screen.
Dad’s serious photo is the background as he calls.
“Hi.” I already know why he’s calling. I need to make a mental note to smack Mikhail the next time I see him.
“Son. I heard today is a big day. I’m a little disappointed I wasn’t invited.” His deep familiar voice has a tinge of hurt behind his words.
“Don’t be. This is just a business arrangement. I’ll be sure to let you know whenever I do it for real.” The anger at him for replacing Mom wars with my need to want to include him.
He’s always put us first even after she died, and drove us to be the men we are.
Doesn’t mean I can’t be pissed at him for landing some girl younger than me.
But, it makes me want to be him when I’m his age.
“Well, be that as it may, congratulations, Roman. I hope you find happiness from this deal, then.”
Can I find it? What would it be like to be with the same woman forever? To have her just be mine?
It makes my cock twitch.
No, that isn’t for me. I’m made for the buffet. It’s why I need more clubs, so I can have more dancers to do with as I please.
Although, having one that knows exactly what I want, does have its appeal.
“Thanks, dad. I appreciate the call. I’ll get back to you tonight with the breakdown on the last shipment.” Peeling back my sleeve, I check my Rolex.
She’s almost five minutes late. And, she strikes me as the punctual type.
“Don’t worry about it today. Enjoy your honeymoon. Well, with, or without, your bride.” He’s still chuckling as he hangs up.
The air moves as the door to the chapel is flung open.
Nadia rushes in, red faced and with a glisten of sweat along her forehead.
She almost looks freshly fucked.
Except she still walks like she has that stick up her ass.
One night with me, and I’d have her crawling.
Damn. The thought of having her on her knees makes me hard.
“Was starting to think you changed your mind.” I give her my best charming smile.
Her lips flatten. “I did think about it. But, then the city called to tell me that my property taxes on that place are overdue.” Her nostrils flare, but she maintains her composure. “So, let’s get this over with. Did you bring my check?” Her hand flattens as her chocolate colored eyes look up at me expectantly.
I pull my wallet out and unfold the slip. “I’d like it if you begged a little harder.”
There it is. That red blush works up her neck to accentuate her bright lips that purse as she watches me.
Fuck, I’d love to look into her eyes when I tighten my fingers around that slender neck and squeeze.
“Please?” she whispers.
I lay the payment across her palm and cover it with my own. “Good girl.” Turning away, I readjust my crotch before rapping on the window to the office as she clears her throat next to me.
A grin twitches on my lips. If the praise got to her, I wonder what would happen if I made her my good little slut.
“It’s time,” I call through the shingled window.
The door opens, and the first thing I see is sparkly skin tight white pants with golden stars.
But, then I see his hair. A giant black skunk has died upon the head of a short, fat, greasy Elvis impersonator.
“Welcome very much.” His lip snarl is on point.
Some days, I fucking hate Vegas.
“Let’s get this over with,” I growl at him.
“Wait.” Her hand touches my arm and it races fire up into my chest. “It’s my wedding, too.” She turns to the squatty man. “I would like the full show.”
Smiling, she steps away from me.
The short chaplain grins at me and follows her. “Why thank you, little lady.”
My eyes hurt from rolling them as he hip waggles, stabs his finger into the air, and gyrates awkwardly through the short ceremony.
But, the smile on her face makes it tolerable.
It makes something inside of me warm watching her give in to laughter at his antics.
She sets aside every ounce of humor when he tells her to slide the ring on my finger.
Why does this feel so…real?
Her eyes lock on to me as we repeat back the vows.
I can’t believe I just did this.
She’s mine.
Tied to me more firmly than any piece of paper.
And for some damn reason, I don’t want to let that go.
“You may now kiss your bride.” His practiced words hit me with a force I didn’t expect.
My hand wraps behind her neck, tugging her closer. Tipping her chin with my thumb, I go in with the plan of a quick peck.
But, her warm fingers trail to the base of my throat and fold into my collar. When my lips find hers, they’re soft and inviting.
A shudder of electricity runs through me as I fall deeper into her tentative, but permissive kiss.
Hunger rushes through me and I give in, pushing my tongue between her teeth to consume her.
They clamp down, pinching me with a shock before I withdraw quickly.
Her narrow eyes tell me I overstepped.
I don’t care. It was worth it.
“Well, I’m all shook up! I now pronounce you hubba hubba and wife!” The round minister claps his hands before heading back towards his office.
We both stand and stare at each other before she speaks.
“Only on paper, Mr. Petrov.” She pivots and brushes past me.
“Oh, lastochka, the things I would do to you, you’d never want to leave.” Reaching out, I manage to swat her on one of her firm ass cheeks before she’s too far.
She jumps with a delicious gasp.
“Let’s just sign the license and leave. I have work to do.”
I put my signature next to hers, and then hold the door to the exit.
“I’ll see you at home, dear.” I wink and saunter to my car. “Marco, you’re with me.”
Marco’s salt and pepper brows rise onto his forehead. “But, boss-I-uh. Nevermind.” He jumps into the passenger seat.
“You’re going to drive her car home.”
“Um. Boss, she’s in it. Right now.” He points ahead of us where her tail lights flash before pulling into her driveway.
“I gotta take my wife home. She won’t know where it is. You’re gonna make sure her Audi gets delivered for her.” I slide my Maserati beside her vehicle and slip the car into park.
“I don’t get it, boss. You had me send the guys over to empty the place.” Marco slumps back and pulls his sunglasses down.
“But, she doesn’t know that. Go ahead and take hers. Here’s the key.” I hand him the copy I had made.
She has no idea she just signed a deal with the devil.
I can hear her squeal before she runs back outside.
Her face is puffy with anger as she stomps over to my window.
To her credit, she barely seems to notice that Marco is leaving in her ride.
“Where is my stuff? Why did he just take my car?” Her voice climbs with each question.
I slide out, and wrap my arm gently around her waist, then guide her around the front of the Maserati.
“Wife. I’m bringing you home. Now that you’re married to me, you aren’t safe here by yourself.” I coax her in, and slide the belt over her lap, much like I did the other day after my “proposal”.
She shakes her head with a vacant look. “No. This isn’t what we agreed on.”
“Yes it is.” I rev the engine before backing out. “When you signed your name, you became my responsibility. I don’t take that lightly.”
“I don’t think that’s what that meant.” Her lower lip sticks out.
I’m tempted to park and take that offending pout between my teeth.
“Well, I can take you back. If you die, I’ll just get the club, and I’ll get to keep the money.” I slow down and pull to the side of the road.
“Um. I don’t want that either.” Her brows furrow as she stares straight out the windshield with her arms crossed over her chest.
“Then it’s settled.” I veer back out into traffic and hit the accelerator hard enough to force us back into our seats. “You’re stuck with me.”
“Where is she?” My cook blinks rapidly when I ask her for the third time.
“I informed her it was dinner time. She said she wasn’t hungry.” Her gray hair is tucked neatly under a bonnet, but she nervously tugs on a stray strand.
Waving her away, I head up the stairs.
Nadia’s door is closed.
I should have just made her sleep in my room. It would have opened her eyes to one of the massive, er, perks of being with a Petrov man.
My fist beats against the hollow wood. “Nadia! The least you can do is spend your honeymoon with your husband over a meal.”
“No, thank you.” Her voice is muffled.
“You’ll not disrespect Mrs. Jenkins. She works hard every day to put good food on my table.” My hand clenches to pound again.
The door flings open.
I can’t stop my gaze from traveling down her scantily clad body. The tiny, low slung shorts hug the apex of her thighs. Her bare belly is taut beneath a short halter top that barely covers her full breasts pushing against the thin fabric.
My cock jerks when I spy her nipples poking through.
Jesus. She isn’t wearing a bra.
“I already told her I appreciated what she did, and that I would find the leftovers in the fridge if I didn’t make it down.” Her dark eyes are narrow as she scowls at me.
All I can see is the low cut of her top hanging over her perky, tight?—
“Hey!” Her palm shoves against my chest, knocking me backwards.
“What?” I’m having a hard time focusing on anything else but her body.
She follows in into the hall and snaps her fingers in front of my nose. “Whatever ‘this’ is.” She waves her hand in front of my face. “It isn’t happening. We are only married on paper.”
Now, she’s pissing me off.
Before I can stop myself, my grip wraps around her throat and pins her to the far wall.
Fuck, I can feel her squirm against me. She’s making me want to take what is mine.
“I could make you scream, and not a soul in this building will come and stop me.” My knee pushes between her thighs so she can get the full effect of just how ready I am.
The mint of her rapid breath tickles my neck. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Heat burns through my suit as my chest presses against hers.
“Oh, lastochka, you have no idea what I’m capable of.” I tilt her jaw, exposing the long lines of her neck so I can watch her fluttering pulse.
Just a taste, so I know what I’m missing.
My tongue finds the hollow, just above the strand holding her shirt.
I knew she’d be delicious.
Her gasp freezes as my mouth works higher until I pinch the lobe of her ear between my teeth.
“It wouldn’t be so bad, wife. You may even enjoy yourself.”
When I back away, my dick tents my pants, but I don’t make any effort to hide it.
Let her see what she’s missing.
“So, dinner?” I slide my thumb under the hem of her alluring shorts. “Or, do I get to have my dessert?”
Her flushed cheeks don’t hide the effect I’ve had. “I’ll be down in just a moment.”
She darts into her room and slams the door.
I knew she’d see things my way.