Chapter 26
ARIA
"Cancel all notifications, meetings, and anything else on my calendar until further notice,” Mikhail snaps at Chantelle.
We are back in the office where I first met him, and I suspect his administrative assistant doesn't really like me.
She pretends that she does, because of course she's a professional, but as soon as I stepped foot in there, she narrowed her eyes at me, and I didn't miss the way her jaw tightened.
She speaks to Mikhail but never to me. Who could blame her?
I fucked things up for her when I first met them.
Now here I am, living in the lap of luxury and little does she know I'm carrying the mob boss’s baby. I guess she'll know soon enough. And is it really a tragedy for me? I'm safe. As safe as I can be, anyway.
Ollie was right. No one has attacked. Mikhail is back to work because, as Ollie suggested, we all need to pretend that we are not afraid.
We all need to pretend that things are normal, that we're not expecting blowback from Volkov. That we’re not expecting anything.
We know, though. We know he hasn't given up on us, and that we can expect an attack. We just won't wait in hiding anymore.
When Mikhail has me alone in his office, he lifts me and puts me on his desk. “This is the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen," he says, in a deep growl of a voice.
"What? What are you talking about?"
"My pregnant wife with her legs spread wide on my desk," he bites back, as if surging through his own emotions. "I imagined you here. And now I want to remember you here.”
I swallow and bite my lip. “How might we do that?”
Standing, he removes his belt. I watch greedily, my body heating at the look he gives me. Wordlessly, he lifts my hands above my head and secures them with the belt.
“Legs open,” he drawls, his accent thickening. “And remember how I punished you for coming without permission.”
Oh God, do I.
“So what are you going to do, Aria?”
Inhaling deeply, he stifles a groan as he drags a finger down my damp panties.
“Ask for permission,” I breathe, as my hips jerk. “May I come?”
I swear the sound of his deep chuckle vibrates through me. My body clenches with need. Wordlessly, he lifts my legs and drapes them over his shoulders before he presses his tongue to the heat between my legs. I whimper and bite my lip, my head falling to the side.
“You may come when I tell you. Not a second earlier.”
I want to stab my fingers through his hair, but my wrists are secured tight, of course. Damn that doctor. I could’ve played the pregnancy card before, but now I’m toast.
“Okay, yes, alright.” I nod maybe a bit too eagerly as his thick fingers deftly remove my panties. He arranges me back over his shoulders and without warning, gives me a long, lazy stroke of his tongue.
I cry out, it feels so damn good. “Oh, God, yes.” When I realize how loud I am, my cheeks heat. What if someone hears?
I lose myself to sensation, the warm feel of his mouth on me, the way his hands grip my ass possessively. I close my eyes as waves of ecstasy begin to course through me until I’m on the edge.
“Mikhail,” I whisper. “Please?”
“Not yet,” he says against my thigh, taking a moment to scrape his stubbled chin along the sensitive skin.
I whimper and moan, holding myself back with everything I’ve got. Oh God, he will punish me if I come now, but it’s gonna kill me –
“I said not yet,” he rasps, then in Russian, “Ty krasiva, no upryama. Mne nravitsya, kogda ty podchinyaesh'sya mne."
Oh boy.
You are beautiful but willful. It pleases me when you submit yourself to me.
Why is it so damn sexy when he talks to me like that?
I bite my lip and start mentally reciting the Russian alphabet, so I don’t lose it, when he finally stops, kisses my thigh, and whispers, “Come, my love.”
I let myself totally succumb and fall head over heels into ecstasy.
My muscles contract, my breathing hitches, my skin flushes, and I scream out loud in pleasure.
When I’m on the cusp of another climax, he rises and spreads my legs further, his eyes blazing into mine as he unfastens his pants.
In seconds, he plunges into me. The walls of my pussy convulse, clenching around him.
Having just crested my first orgasm, the second hits hard as he fucks me.
Slowly, he drags his cock out, his thumb pressed to my clit as he watches me come. I whimper and beg for his cock. When he’s nearly fully out, he takes his time thrusting deep within me all over again. “That’s it, my sweet girl. Take my cock. I want to fill you. Your pussy belongs to me.”
Gripping my hips with a punishing hold, he thrusts into me so hard a tremor reaches all the way to the base of my neck. I cry out in pleasure as a third orgasm overtakes the first two. “Come with me,” he grates in my ear. “Come with me, my filthy, beautiful little slut.”
Another thrust, another, I’m half-crying in pleasure as nerves tingle up and down my spine. Oh, God, I love him. I love him.
He rocks his hips in time with me, his own release on the heels of mine. He holds his breath, his body stills, and with the next thrust, he throws his head back in ecstasy. I writhe with my own orgasm, enhanced by his, until he leans into me and holds me against him.
“I love you,” he whispers in my ear. “I love you, Aria.”
Still panting, I cherish the feel of his lips brushing against my cheek. “And I love you.”
Footsteps sound outside the office, voices rise and fall. I stifle a giggle and press my hand to my mouth.
“So what if they hear,” he says, his hair a little mussy and his clothes disheveled. “If I want to fuck my wife on my desk, I’m gonna fuck my wife on my desk.”
I love that about him, too.
With trembling hands, I arrange my clothes, fix my makeup, and try to smooth my hair, but it's a little bit of a disaster after what just happened.
Oh no. I turn my head to look in my compact’s mirror and see pink finger marks on my neck.
Jesus, Mikhail. Why couldn't you grab my waist or someplace that I could hide under clothing? It has to be my neck. Still, I'm pleased though. Every married woman wants to be loved by her husband. I am sexy, and he makes me feel that way. My husband loves my body.
Even as I'm growing a child in me. Even as the angles of my body soften, and my belly rounds.
A knock at the door. Mikhail scowls at it. Sometimes I think if his scowl or the laser of his glance could cause heat, he’d incinerate everyone and anything in his path.
"What?" he snaps.
"Your lunch has arrived, sir."
Mikhail looks at me sharply while he cleans us up. "I didn't order lunch."
I reach out a hand to his arm. "Easy there, killer," I say. "I ordered lunch. I'm craving one of those turkey burgers, okay?"
"Aria," he warns. He doesn't like to order without making sure that one of his men personally watches the food be assembled so no one can, I don't know, slip arsenic in it, or something.
"Test it for poison, I don't care what you do. All I want is one of those avocado turkey burgers on a grilled bun, okay?” And maybe their sweet potato fries.
He grunts. "I happen to know that Lev is down at the milkshake factory today. He's got something going on, I don't know what, but if you want a milkshake –"
I grin. Of course I want a milkshake.
"Do you want one?”
“I’m all set but I think…I think the baby might.” He grins and winks at me. My heart flips.
He's busily arranging the food on his desk, inspecting it and sniffing at it. "Mint chocolate chip." I smile and go to open the DoorDash app but realize it's not on my home screen. Nothing’s on my home screen.
Wait a minute, that's because I grabbed his phone by accident.
I go to put it back on the desk when I see a text come in.
Tatiana
Received the last payment. Thank you.
The last…payment? Is this another Tatiana? How common of a name is that?
I shouldn't be looking at his phone. I glance up at him and then back at the phone, confused.
"Oh,” I say with a forced laugh. “I took your phone by accident. Sorry.”
I put his back down and lift mine up, but I’ve forgotten what I wanted it for.
He doesn’t even look at me.
Milkshakes. I want Lev to pick me up milkshakes.
Why is Tatiana's name on his phone? Under normal circumstances, I know the right thing to do is to flat out ask him. But I happen to have a world of hacking experience at my fingertips, and I don't want to put him in a difficult position…
"Have you heard from Ollie today?" I ask. I’m nervous about his job right now.
"I have," he says but offers no other information. “The fewer questions you ask, the less I tell you, the better it is."
I watch him inspect my turkey burger and suddenly think he’s being ridiculous.
"Feeling alright?" he asks. He peers over at me and brushes hair out of my eyes. "Sweet girl," he says with a smile. "Tell me. What's on your mind? You look preoccupied."
Why is the woman who told me to come to you texting you? Is it a different Tatiana? Do you know her?
"I'm just nervous about everything,” I tell him, which is not a lie. Who wouldn't be nervous when you're told, "pretend everything's fine, let them think that you’ve become complacent. That's when they’ll strike."
What will happen when they "strike?"
Does anyone really know?
“I want you to talk to me, little hacker.”
He doesn’t always call me that anymore. It’s always something sweet or my name. My throat tightens.
Could there be another Tatiana? There must be. There’s no way…well.
Maybe there is.
Mikhail’s leaning over the Styrofoam trays. First, he checks all the food over carefully, moving things around with a plastic fork before he leans in and smells everything. Finally, he takes the smallest bite of each item on the tray.
“Alright,” Mikhail says, bringing me the tray with my food. “This is fine. No more ordering without going through me first, Aria.”
I feel practically smothered beneath his over-the-top protection, and today is definitely a day where I need some space.
“Thanks. I’m going to take this into the conference room if that’s alright. I need a little privacy.”