Chapter 10
LUCA
The playroom is empty.
Not just empty of children. Empty the dollhouse and train set I had delivered this morning. The floor where the track was set up shows faint marks from where the wood pressed into the carpet. The corner where the dollhouse stood is just blank space now.
I stand in the doorway and feel my jaw tighten.
Elena appears behind me. “Mr. Volkov, I can explain—”
“Where are the toys?”
“Mrs. Volkov removed them about an hour ago. She carried them to her bedroom.”
“Did she say why?”
Elena hesitates. “The children were very upset. Mila was crying. I heard her tell Mrs. Volkov she hated her.”
I turn to look at Elena. “And Anna’s response?”
“She apologized. Then she took everything anyway.”
Of course she did.
I’ve been patient. I’ve given Anna space to adjust. I’ve allowed her to keep the twins at a distance while she processes the reality of this marriage. But this isn’t an adjustment anymore. This is sabotage.
I spent three days researching those toys. Finding exactly what Mila and Alexei would love. Quality pieces that weren’t just expensive, but meaningful. The dollhouse has hand-painted furniture. The train set is the same brand my father gave me when I was Alexei’s age.
And Anna threw them out like garbage.
“Where is she now?” I ask.
“I believe she’s in her bedroom. The children are in Mila’s room.”
I leave the playroom and head down the hallway. My footsteps are louder than usual against the hardwood. I’m not trying to be quiet.
Anna’s door is closed. I don’t knock.
She’s standing by the window when I walk in, arms crossed, staring out at the grounds. The toys are stacked in the corner. Dollhouse, train set, all the accessories packed neatly in their boxes.
She doesn’t turn around. “Get out of my room.”
“No.”
“I’m not doing this right now.”
“Yes, you are.” I close the door behind me. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
She spins around. “Excuse me?”
“You took toys away from your children. Made them cry. For what reason?”
“For every reason. Those gifts were inappropriate.”
“They’re toys. Age-appropriate, high-quality toys that your children loved. What’s inappropriate about that?”
“They’re from you.”
“And that’s enough to deny your children something that made them happy?”
“Yes.” She moves away from the window, anger flashing in her eyes. “Yes, that’s exactly enough.”
“You’re being cruel to them to punish me.”
“I’m protecting them from you.”
“From toys? You’re protecting them from fucking toys?”
“From you using those toys to manipulate them!” Her voice rises. “You think I don’t see what you’re doing? Sending gifts, appearing in hallways, asking about their favorite colors? You’re trying to win them over.”
“I’m trying to exist in the same house as them without you acting like I’m a predator.”
“You killed a man in front of me a week ago!”
There it is. The real issue.
“That was business,” I say.
“That was murder.”
“That was eliminating a threat to my operations. Mikhailov tried to renegotiate terms and then threatened me. I responded appropriately.”
“You shot him in the head!”
“Yes. And I’d do it again if someone else tries the same thing. That’s the world I operate in. That’s the world you married into. You don’t get to act shocked now.”
She’s shaking. Anger or fear, I can’t tell which. “I don’t want my children anywhere near that world.”
“They’re already in it. They live in my house. They eat my food. They’re protected by my security. They’re part of this whether you accept it or not.”
“They don’t need to know you. They don’t need your gifts or your attention or anything from you except a roof over their heads.”
“That’s not how families work.”
“We’re not a family. This is a transaction. You said so yourself.”
“I said the marriage was a transaction. The children are different.”
“No, they’re not. They’re part of the package you acquired. That’s all.”
I take a step closer. She holds her ground. “You think I can’t see what you’re doing? You’re keeping them away from me because you’re afraid.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“Yes, you are. You’ve been terrified since the warehouse. You jump every time I walk into a room. You watch me like you think I’m going to snap and hurt you.”
“Can you blame me? I watched you execute someone!”
“For trying to cheat me. For threatening me in my own warehouse. Not for existing. Not for crossing some arbitrary line you invented in your head.”
“There’s nothing arbitrary about not wanting a killer around my children!”
“I’m not around your children! You make sure of that every single day!” My voice is getting louder. I don’t care. “I live in the same house as two four-year-olds I’ve barely spoken to because their mother treats me like I’m going to hurt them. Do you have any idea how insulting that is?”
“I don’t care if it’s insulting. I care about keeping them safe.”
“Safe from what? From having a stable home? From having resources and security? From having someone who actually gives a damn about their well-being?”
“You don’t give a damn about them. You give a damn about control.”
“If I only cared about control, I wouldn’t waste money on custom toys.
I’d ignore them completely. But I don’t.
I pay attention. I notice what they like.
I try to give them things that make them happy.
And you throw it all away because you’re so busy hating me that you can’t see I’m actually trying. ”
“Trying to do what? Be their father?”
The words hang in the air between us.
“I’m trying not to be a stranger in my own house,” I say. “That’s all.”
“Well, you are a stranger. You’ll always be a stranger. Because I’m never letting you near them.”
“You don’t have that power.”
“Watch me.”
We’re standing too close now. I can see the pulse racing in her throat. See the way her chest rises and falls with rapid breathing. She’s furious and terrified and so goddamn stubborn it makes me want to shake her.
“You can’t win this,” I say quietly. “You know that, right? I own this house. I control your family’s future. I have unlimited resources and patience. You have what? Determination? That’s not enough.”
“It’s all I need.”
“It’s going to break you.”
“Then I’ll break. But I won’t let you have them.”
“I don’t want to have them. I want them not to be afraid of me. There’s a difference.”
“Not to me.”
I reach out and grab her arm. Not hard. Just enough to keep her from walking away.
“This stops now. You can hate me all you want. You can avoid me, insult me, make my life difficult in every possible way. But you will not turn my household into a war zone. You will not make those children cry because you’re too scared to be rational. ”
She tries to pull her arm free. I don’t let go. “Let go of me.”
“Answer me first. Are you going to stop this?”
“No.”
“Anna—”
“I said no. I will never stop protecting my children from you.”
“They don’t need protection from me!”
“Yes, they do! You’re a monster!”
“Then what does that make you? You married the monster. You sleep in his house. You fuck him when the tension gets too high.” I pull her closer. “You’re not protecting them from me. You’re protecting yourself from admitting you made a choice you can’t take back.”
“Fuck you.”
“You already did. You’ll do it again.”
Her free hand comes up and slaps me across the face.
The sound echoes in the room.
We both freeze.
Then I grab her other wrist and push her back against the wall. “Don’t,” I warn.
“Or what? You’ll kill me too?”
“I’ve never killed anyone who didn’t deserve it.”
She’s breathing hard now. We’re pressed too close. I can feel the heat of her body through her clothes. See the way her eyes drop to my mouth before flicking back up.
“I hate you,” she says.
“I know.”
I pin her there on the wall with my body, one hand still wrapped around her neck, the other braced beside her head. She’s still fully dressed. Good. I want her to feel every second of this while she’s still pretending she has control.
“You think you can hit me in my own house?” I growl against her mouth. “You think that changes anything?”
She spits the words right back. “You’re a monster. I’ll hit you every day if I have to.”
I press my thigh between her legs, forcing them apart. My free hand slides down her body, over the thin fabric of her dress, and cups her cunt through it. She’s already hot. I can feel the damp heat soaking through. I rub circles with the heel of my palm, pressing the material against her clit.
“Monster, am I?” I taunt. “Then why is your pussy dripping for me already?”
“Get your hands off me.”
I ignore her. I slide my fingers under the hem of her dress, push her panties aside, and sink two thick fingers straight into her.
No warning. She’s tight and slick and clenches around me instantly.
I pump them deep, curling them against that spot inside her that makes her thighs shake.
Her breath stutters. She tries to twist away, but I have her pinned.
“Look at you,” I say, voice low and cruel. “Still fully dressed and already taking my fingers like a desperate whore.”
“Fuck you, Luca.”
I pull my fingers out and bring them up between us. They are shiny with her. I hold them right in front of her face so she can see, then I lick them clean, eyes locked on hers the entire time. She watches, lips parted, hatred and unwilling heat warring in her stare.
“You taste like hate and need,” I tell her. “And I’m going to have more.”
I grab her hair and force her down to her knees. She resists, nails digging into my thighs, but I’m stronger. I yank my belt open, shove my pants down just enough to free my cock.
“Open your mouth.”
She glares up at me, her eyes sparking with desire. Still, she can’t stop fighting. “Make me.”
I slap the head of my cock against her lips. Once. Twice. “Open. Now.”
She glares, but opens her mouth, and I feed my cock to her in one long push, not stopping until I hit the back of her throat. She gags, eyes watering, but she doesn’t pull away.