Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Daisy
"Ilya," I said his name before I had even fully come awake. Reaching for him because I missed the warmth of his body curled around mine, my hands were met with cold, empty sheets.
My eyes snapped open, and I turned my head to stare at the empty side of the bed. The sheets were cold. He hadn’t been next to me for hours. Had he snuck out in the middle of the night and crept back to his own room like what we had done was wrong?
I couldn’t bring myself to believe that. He had been so loving. The old Ilya that I had fallen in love with. The man I was still in love with if I was being honest with myself.
Something had changed between us last night, and—
On the nightstand, something caught my eye, and I sat up to make sure I was seeing right. Clutching the sheets to my naked breasts, I felt tears sting my eyes as I stared down at the wad of hundreds left on my nightstand.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe last night had been nothing. It sure looked like that because Ilya had left money on my nightstand like I was some kind of paid hooker.
It hurt. It hurt so much that for a second it felt like I couldn’t breathe.
Clutching at my chest, I let my eyes fill with tears so the bundle of money was nothing but a blur.
For five whole minutes, I just let myself feel the pain of Ilya's betrayal. He didn’t love me.
He couldn’t. I wasn’t sure he was even capable of that feeling.
All he did was use me and discard me. Over and over again, and like a moron, I fell for his soft eyes and gentle words every single time.
But no more.
The anger came quickly, filling my chest with fire.
NO FUCKING MORE.
Giving myself another few seconds, I finally climbed out of the bed and yanked on my gown. Tying the thing angrily around my waist before I walked out of the room with the wad of notes clutched in my fist.
"Ilya Popovitch, if you think—" I froze.
"Good morning, Daisy." He lifted his head to me slowly, his eyes darting from mine to the money clutched in my fist. "I see you have found the bonus I left for you."
There was a look in his eyes that I didn’t want to understand. "That’s for yesterday." He carried on sipping his espresso and watching me over the rim of the tiny cup. "For a job well done."
It might have been my imagination, but I was sure I saw his lips curl up into a cruel smile.
"I don’t want your money." Again, I let my eyes dart to the woman sitting opposite him. The same beautiful girl as last night. She stared back at me equally coolly.
"Ah." Leaning back, Ilya's grin grew. Cold and so cruel that it felt like he was tearing out my heart.
"Forgive my lack of manners. Daisy, this is Marguerite. Marguerite, this is Alexander’s nanny, Daisy.
She missed out on her night off yesterday because—" He grinned down at the money before meeting my eyes again.
And the look seemed to scream that he had won.
"Well, I needed a hand with something. She really went above and beyond. Just like she always has. I tell you what, Daisy, why don’t you take today off instead? Spend the money on something nice for yourself." The tip of his tongue came out to wet his bottom lip. "You really did earn it."
I couldn’t speak. All I could do was stare at him and marvel at the fact that his cruelness could still shock me. Each one of his words was polite, kind almost. And the woman clearly thought so because she was staring at him like he hung the moon, but each one had a different meaning to me.
He was being cruel just to be cruel because he liked to see me suffer.
Last night shouldn’t have happened. I knew that.
Just like I knew it could never happen again.
I nodded my head once. "Thank you. Have a nice morning." Turning on my bare feet, I padded back towards my room.
"It was nice to meet you, Daisy," Marguerite called after me, forcing me to pause.
Slowly I turned. "You as well. Enjoy your breakfast."
He had invited her to breakfast. Where Alec could see her. Marguerite wasn’t like the other women.
Had Ilya chosen my replacement already?
I didn’t spend the money. I left it on the nightstand where he had put it. I wasn’t a whore, and as soon as I got him alone, I was going to tell him that and stuff the notes into his smug face.
I did go for a walk, though, and the fresh air and green space of Central Park helped me clear my head. By the time I got home, the apartment was empty.
It remained empty for hours, giving me enough time to take a long, hot bubble bath and cook myself a meal.
Somewhere around six, I heard them come back and listened for any hint of a female voice. There was none. Wherever Ilya and Alec had gone today, Marguerite hadn’t come home with them.
I wanted to ask him about her, but part of me already knew the answer, and to hear it put into words would have gutted me afresh. So I stayed in my room, chatting on Messenger to my friends back in the UK.
I missed them. Just like I missed my life and job and the feeling of doing something worthwhile, but I would never leave Alec. I wouldn’t break my promise to the little boy who owned my entire heart.
His father, though? His father could choke on any promises I had made to him.
"Ah, there you are."
My head snapped up; I hadn’t heard my door open, but there he was. Leaning against the doorjamb with a wide, knowing smile on his face and his arms crossed so the material of his tee was stretched across his muscles.
"What do you want?" I dropped the phone to my lap, face down, and scowled at him.
"You didn’t come out for dinner." His eyes kept glancing down at the phone. "Am I interrupting something important?"
"No, and I didn’t come out because I ate earlier." Steadily, I met his eyes. "And I didn’t know whether you would have company."
Something that looked like glee entered his eyes and made them sparkle. Taking a step into the room, he closed it with a soft click, locking me into the room with him.
I didn’t want to be trapped in a room with him.
Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I stood up because I sure as hell wasn’t going to stay lying down. Not when he had that look on his face.
"Ah." He closed the distance between us. "You’re jealous."
"I don’t care who you stick your dick in, Ilya. As long as it’s not me. Now." I gave a small push on his chest, forcing him back half a step before he righted himself. "Get out, Ilya. I don’t want you in here."
"Are you sure about that, Daisy?" Reaching out, he closed his hand around my hip and tugged me against him roughly. "Because your mouth says one thing but your body—" His eyes darted down to the clear outline of my nipples poking through my tank top.
I would have crossed my arms to hide them, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right. My body was betraying me.
"Your body says another," he finished with a squeeze of my hips. "You can’t lie to me."
"Leave, Ilya."
"No."
"I’m busy."
There was a second, just a second, where his features tightened, and then he reached for my phone. "And who exactly are you busy with, Daisy?"
"Give that back to me. Right the fuck now—" I reached for it, but he simply grabbed my hand and pressed my finger to the screen, opening up the message thread.
He scanned it quickly, scrolling through with a line pinching his eyebrows together.
"Who is Addie?" he asked finally. "Whom you miss so damn much."
I couldn’t help it; I laughed. "I am allowed to miss my friends, Ilya. I am allowed to contact them. You don’t own me."
I was sure I had pointed that out last night as well, and he had promptly proven to me that he did. Well, he wasn’t going to this time.
"I wasn’t lying when I said I wouldn’t share you." Tossing the phone to the bed, he reached for me again. Gripping both of my wrists in his giant hands. "You are mine until the day you die."
Back and forth, his thumbs brushed over my rapidly beating pulse.
Why, oh why, did he have to have such power over me?
"Addie is a girl. I went to grad school with her."
"I see."
"Your jealousy is pathetic, though," I snapped. "You bring the woman you’re screwing to breakfast. You’re not discreet, and yet you have the audacity to be jealous of who I talk to. You’re a hypocrite, Ilya."
The words had barely left my lips before he threw me onto the bed. Only unlike last night, he didn’t crawl over my body. He gripped my ankles and tugged me towards him at the edge of the bed.
"Am I a hypocrite?" he asked, falling to his knees and pushing my thighs apart further. My underwear was ripped to the side so the next time he spoke, his hot breath made me shudder.
"Yes."
"Maybe I am." The tip of his tongue touched my clit. The smallest of touches that had me grabbing for his hair in seconds. "But Marguerite isn’t just some woman I’m fucking, Daisy.
" He licked hard, from ass to clit between words, and then, hardening his tongue, thrust it deep into me and licked me from the inside out. "She’s special."
I barely comprehended his words; I was too busy writhing against his mouth. When he added his fingers to the mix, I almost screamed in happiness.
Lips on my clit and fingers deep inside of me, Ilya forced me to feel everything I had just sworn to myself I would never feel for him again.
My body craved him like a drug.
Lifting my ass off the bed, I clutched at him, grinding myself against him until every muscle in my body turned to liquid.
"She’s the woman I am going to make my wife."
Crying out loudly, I barely heard him. And at first, I was sure I didn’t hear correctly, because he couldn’t have just said that with his mouth on me and his fingers buried in my cunt.
"How does that make you feel, Daisy? I choose her."
My body stiffened, but I was powerless against the orgasm that was still ripping through my trembling body.
"What?" Desperately I scrambled for control.
"She will be my wife. But you?" His fingers continued to work my body. "You will always be mine. I am going to be your first and your last everything, Daisy. I will fuck over every man who ever comes into your life and make you watch me raise a family with another—"
I pushed at his chest with all my might, forcing him back and away from me. "Get out," I hissed, giving him another push towards the door. "Just get the fuck out."
"Remember who owns who, Daisy. Never forget it."
I knew he owned me. He always had. And I hated him. I hated how he made me feel. One last push and he was against the door, a cruel, knowing smile across his lips, which were glistening with my release still.
"Get out," I screamed as he swung open the door. "Get out and never touch me again."
The second he closed the door behind him, I sank down next to it. My face buried in my knees as I silently cried.
Ilya was getting married, but he wasn’t done with me yet. Deep down I knew the worst was yet to come, and the worst thing was I knew that he was right.
He would own me until the day I died.