Chapter 23
ALINA
H is gaze narrowed. “What I had to."
"Why?"
"Because you are under my protection. Period." The way he said it, like it was just a fact of life, made my body hum with something I didn't dare give a name.
"Is he dead?" I asked.
"Yes." There was no hesitation, no pause.
He just told me the truth, and I didn't know how to feel about that.
I sat back for a moment, waiting for grief, shock, sadness—anything—to overwhelm me.
I felt nothing. Maybe I'd grieved the father I'd needed years ago, when he first chose gambling over his family. The man Pavel killed was a stranger who happened to share my blood.
Pavel watched my face carefully, and I caught something that might have been concern cross his features before his expression hardened again.
"Your father put you in danger. "His hand lifted and smoothed comforting circles on my lower back. "Your grandmother is safe because you're mine. That's how this works—I protect what belongs to me."His voice softened slightly."I've had her moved to a better place. She deserves proper care."
"Medicaid pays?—"
"Medicaid paid for a shithole. I’ve had her moved," he rasped, pulling the slip away from my breast, his knuckles grazing my skin. "She's an old woman who raised you. She shouldn't suffer because of your father's mistakes."
The unexpected, fierce certainty in his voice made something clench in my chest.
Pavel had found my weak spot.
He found the one thing that would ensure I submitted to his rules.
I ground my hips down on his still hard cock. I was already wetter than I'd care to admit.
I teased his cock with my cunt, rocking back and forth, sliding my folds along his shaft while he sucked and licked my breasts.
Pavel grabbed my hips and turned me around so my back was to him, my legs tucked on either side of his thighs. He flipped up my slip to bare my ass to him as he leaned me forward and notched his cock at my entrance.
I stared in the mirror, studying the woman I had become.
My lips were swollen, a little bruised. My slip was hanging off my shoulders, baring my breasts and my spit-slicked hard nipples to the cold air, and my eyes looked glassy.
I watched in horrified fascination as the flush on my cheeks traveled down my chest to the tops of my breasts as they bounced.
It was somehow both embarrassing and so incredibly hot, watching myself take all of him.
His hands sneaked around my body, his fingers going to my clit, drawing tight little circles, making my thighs tremble as I rode him harder.
Pavel growled something in Russian and my back arched.
This was who I was now.
And I hated it.
I hated him.
I especially hated myself for fitting so well into this new role.
The next day brought an unexpected change to our routine.
He came back early.
I was lying on the bed, staring at the wall while the TV showed reruns of Judge Judy .
I didn't move when he came in, not wanting to acknowledge my captor. At least, not until he threw a paper shopping bag on the bed next to me.
"Put these on. We leave in five minutes."
"What?"
"I'm not going to say it again." He left the room and, confused, I looked into the bag to find clothes—real clothes. A simple but well-made dress, underwear, a bra, and shoes .
The heels were high, and it would be impossible to run in them, but they were shoes.
I slipped off the teddy I was wearing and slid the new clothes on. The fabrics were buttery soft, silky and thick.
Everything fit perfectly.
Why was he giving me real clothes?
Should I be grateful or afraid? I didn't know. There was never any way to tell what kind of mood he would be in, what would happen when he came back each night.
Some nights were all about rough, kinky sex that left me satisfied but sore. More than once, I had a fresh set of lines whipped into my ass before he took me there.
Other nights he was kind; he would cuddle me, we would have a nice dinner, and he’d talk with me like I was his girlfriend, not a prisoner.
It messed with my head.
What was this? What was I to him?
The only constant was I was always naked, or practically naked.
Now I had clothes that were fairly modest and more expensive than anything I had ever bought.
The contradiction left me unsettled, but I did as I was told and got dressed.
Pavel didn't say a word as we left the hotel room and rode the elevator down to street level, where a car was waiting for us. Without being asked, once we were settled he reached over and adjusted the air conditioning, his eyes flicking to me briefly as if checking my comfort.
"You need to behave," he said. "I'm taking you to see your grandmother."His fingers drummed against the steering wheel."There are people who would use her to get to me now. The only way to keep both of you safe is if you're officially mine."
"What do you mean, officially?"
"Married,"he said simply."It's not a romantic gesture, Alina. It's protection. For my family’s business interests, for you, for her."
Wait. What?
He said married.
Like married, married?
That word ran over and over in my mind as I tried to understand what had just happened.
Married.
He drove us across town, and it wasn't until we hit the highway that I worked up the courage to ask a question.
"Marriage... that's really necessary?"
"Yes,"he said,his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "My family needs some assurance on where you stand. And while my enemies won't touch my wife, they will torture and kill my captive."His eyes flicked to me."Which would you prefer to be?"
The cold logic of it settled in my stomach like a stone.
Pondering all the ramifications of marrying into his family, I wasn’t paying much attention to where we were until Pavel pulled the car into a parking lot, in front of what looked like a large house.
He held my hand as we walked through the doors like we were any normal couple there to visit a relative.
The facility, however, was breathtaking.
The main lobby and adjacent rooms had a homey and casual atmosphere, while there were more staff than I had ever seen at any of the nursing homes that Medicaid paid for.
There were actual doctors walking while talking to family members. A full nursing staff, and it smelled like someone was cooking a feast.
In a rare moment outside of my gilded cage, I walked into my grandmother's cage.
Pavel signed us in then led me down a hallway, where I could hear my grandmother's bell-like laughter before I saw her.
She was in a spacious room, sitting in a full-body massage chair watching episodes of Murder, She Wrote .
"Oh, Alina, darling," she said when I walked through the door. It took her a moment, but she stood and walked over to me, giving me a hug.
She held me tight, with more strength and energy in her body than I had seen in well over a year. Her eyes were clear, her smile bright, and I had to push back tears of joy because I actually recognized the woman my grandmother was, not the shell Alzheimer's was creating.
"Grandma, how are you?"
"I'm fine, dear, just fine. Your new beau has me set up in this wonderful place. Tell me, why did you not introduce us sooner?" She leaned in and stage-whispered, "I like this one. He's such a sweet boy."
I looked back at Pavel, who gave me a smug smirk.
"Grandma, I don't think anyone has called him a boy in many, many years."
Pavel chuckled as my grandmother dissolved into a fit of giggles.
He let me sit and visit with her for some time .
He even played a hand of gin rummy with her, and I was surprised to see genuine amusement flicker across his face as she filled him in on the facility gossip.
He patiently listened to all her reports about which one of the nurses was cheating on her fiancé with a doctor, and who had a crush on the handyman.
When my grandmother made a particularly sharp observation about one of the other residents, Pavel actually laughed—a real laugh that transformed his entire face for a moment.
He was kind to her, sweet.
I watched him adjust her blanket when she shivered, saw the way he made sure her water glass stayed full. Small, caring gestures.
For a moment, I almost forgot how much of a monster he really was.
Or at least I would have if he hadn't kept his gaze on me, the intent behind it clear. But even that gaze felt different now. Determined, rather than threatening.
If I wanted her here, if I wanted her happy, I needed to behave.
My freedom paid for her comfort and care.
The second I fucked up, her life was over.
When the nurse came to let us know that visiting hours had ended over an hour ago, Pavel glanced at me first and, seeing I wasn't ready to leave, shot that man a look that turned even my blood cold. The nurse backed away murmuring we could stay as long as we wanted.
But then my grandmother yawned, and we said our goodbyes and she made me promise to come visit again soon and to bring the nice man with me.
She had already forgotten his name .
It was clear she was being taken much better care of here, but the disease was still ever-present.
"Thank you," I said quietly as we walked back to the car. "For taking care of her."
Pavel's hand found the small of my back, the touch surprisingly gentle. "She matters to you. That makes her matter to me."
The simple statement shouldn't have affected me the way it did.
"The marriage thing... is it really the only way?"
"In my world, yes." His voice was matter-of-fact. “Do not forget, as far as my family is concerned you are a liability.”
Oh yes. How could I forget? The only reason I was in this predicament was because I’d witnessed him commit a cold-blooded murder.
It seemed like a lifetime ago. Like it happened to someone else. Like it was nothing more than the hazy memory of a horror movie I’d once watched.
My voice was barely above a whisper since I didn’t want anyone to overhear. “You can’t still think I’d tell anyone…about what I…what I saw?”
His gaze was almost tender as he playfully pulled on one of my curls as if I’d said something cute instead of alluded to murder. “No. I don’t.”
I frowned. “Then why?—"
"Because as my wife you would be untouchable. As my prisoner you are not only a liability, but you’re also a target for my enemies."He opened the car door for me."And that’s unacceptable."