4. Emil
EMIL
I swerve back into the middle lane, almost drifting into the next one.
Fia is to blame for my reckless driving, sitting in my passenger seat being a fucking cock tease without even meaning to.
She’s always testing my limits for how long I can go without fucking her, hence why I bent her over the kitchen countertop that time.
Her screams were loud enough to wake the dead.
She glances at me, biting her lip, probably regretting her decision to come home with me. She won’t be regretting it soon when I slide my cock into her. The memories will come flooding back then, I’m sure.
“You remember your childhood but not me,” I state.
Fia flashes me a sidelong glance that says, ‘not now.’
She must be irritated that the bad parts of her life stuck, the good ones forgotten about.
I swing a right at the next intersection, sunlight disappearing as we head into the forest.
My chest aches again as I worry about the order in which her memories will return. If she remembers too much, she may do her usual and run away from me, and then I’ll have no choice but to kidnap her, showing her just how fucking cruel I can be.
She brings out that side of me.
Being possessive translates to cruelty in her world. Growing up in a dysfunctional family is the reason she was unable to differentiate between the different types of cruelty for years.
Six months ago, she finally learned to warm up to me. It took her two and a half fucking years for her to fully trust me. This time around, it could take forever.
I’d wait lifetimes for Fia to fall in love with me all over again if that’s what it takes, but there may be no guarantee this time.
Sunlight dies, replaced by thick pine trees. A single lane road snakes through the trees. It’s the only way in and out of the forest.
I roll down the window before Fia is involved in another car accident. I can’t fucking concentrate when her scent is filling the car. She’s making me want to abandon driving and slide right into her slick pussy.
Luka, my second in command, has always told me to exercise some caution around my wife. Let’s just say, I have a habit of going off the rails and abandoning work whenever she’s near.
Leading a Bratva means I need to be on my A-Game every second of the day. As long as I get my Fia fix, I’m normally fine, which means her being under my roof could be a big issue, since our relationship has obviously changed.
I’m at a breaking point after spending three days away from her pussy. Another day will destroy me, especially if she’s within my vicinity.
She let me fuck her whenever I wanted before the accident, since we were always ready for each other. Now, her body is fragile, her mind not what it used to be. This is bad for my cock and for the Bratva, and operations at the dock are intense right now.
On top of Fia and the twins almost losing their life, Alexander fucking Kuzmin is still being a pain in my ass. He should stay in Vancouver if he knows what’s good for him, but he never fucking does, always bored and causing a stir, trying to weasel his way into the Seattle markets.
I have him to worry about as well as my wife and two unborn children.
“You look stressed,” Fia points out, staring at me.
“I have a lot on my plate.”
“Sure,” she says, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “So much that you forgot to put your cufflinks on this morning and style your hair…”
“Presentation is everything in… my world,” I falter, unsure of how much to share.
She’s forgotten fucking everything, oblivious about the Kuzmins and their threats, which means she doesn’t remember almost being killed by them a year ago.
“Your world,” she scoffs. “Like you live in a completely different one to the rest of us.” She pauses, taking a moment to think.
“I guess you do in some ways. In my world, threatening a doctor in his place of work is never okay.” She looks at me from the passenger seat.
“I may have lost my memories, but my morals are still intact.”
Just what I need to hear. Those morals are what make her so stubborn.
Well… The next few weeks aren’t looking promising.
I navigate through the winding roads, sinking deeper into the forest.
Fia peers through the rearview mirror, over her shoulders, an apprehensive look growing on her face. She shuffles more forward with each new bend, on the very edge of her seat by the time we arrive home.
I drive up my long, graveled driveway, noting how tense her shoulders are. She hides her fear as soon as she feels me watching, the same way she did before when she first came here, refusing to show weakness as I gave her an ultimatum.
I study her, waiting for the resolve in her eyes. But I’ll be waiting for a while.
I step out of the car, grabbing the passenger door for her. She refuses my hand, dragging herself out of the vehicle, leaving the door open for me to shut.
She folds her arms over her chest, gazing up at my estate. She’s called this place home for an entire year and looks as though she’s about to enter a prison. Coincidentally, she had the same look on her face three years ago when my associate dragged her inside.
Gravel crunches underfoot as she walks down the driveway, heading to the porch.
The estate is nestled in the middle of the forest, built using nearby supplies. The dark oak and stone can be intimidating to city folk, when all you know are contemporary gray buildings with no character.
A rhythmic tapping echoes through the forest walls, the woodpecker coming out of its nest to welcome Fia back home.
She steps up onto the porch holding her breath. She studies the trees, following them up to the sky as if to scale the height of each one.
“What happens when you need to buy more milk and can’t make a quick trip to the grocery store?”
“I steal someone else’s.” I wink at her, unlocking the front door.
It creaks on the old hinges, slowly opening to reveal a dark corridor.
“You should consider oiling that down,” suggests Fia.
“I like the noise it makes,” I reply. “It notifies me when somebody is entering.”
“Like people would leave the city to come pay you a visit.”
“They do as they’re told.”
Another cautious look from Fia.
She exhales a long breath and steps inside, gasping all of a sudden. She stumbles into the wall, collecting her thoughts, pressing her palm against the dark oak to stabilize herself.
I frown, watching her for a moment. The same thing happened after the ultrasound when I touched her stomach.
“Another memory?”
When she doesn’t respond, I snake my hand around her lower back, bringing her away from the wall. She’s still weak from the coma, but she’s always done a bad job of protecting herself, even before the accident.
If Fia had her best interests at heart, she’d have known to wait until morning before snooping around my very dangerous dockyard in the dead of night, or even better, avoided the trip completely…
And in turn, I never would have met her.
Fia loses herself in the facts and is always so determined to win that she forgets about the risks.
“Don’t touch me,” she gasps, shaking me off as she walks down the corridor.
She finds her way to the kitchen without my assistance.
“This house is…” she loses her train of thought in the trees, staring through the floor-to-ceiling windows in the kitchen that lend a pleasant view of the forest. “Weirdly familiar, like I’m getting déjà vu. ”
“Of what exactly?”
Fierce lines form between her brows as she stares hard at the trees, determined to get her memories back.
A text message interrupts me. I slip my phone from my pocket, replying to Luka.
ME: She’s back at the estate if you want to pay her a visit.
Luka’s response to Fia losing her memory was rather positive. “At least she’s not dead,” is what he assured me yesterday afternoon.
But burying Fia would be easier than losing her to amnesia.
I open the kitchen cabinet and grab two glasses, filling both up with water. “Here.” I slide a glass over the island to her. “You should drink something. Hospitals make you dehydrated.”
Fia takes one look at the glass and grimaces. “Got anything stronger?”
“You’re pregnant,” I remind her, looking pointedly at her swollen belly.
“Right.” She purses her lips, smoothing a hand over her belly, which is peeking out from under the shirt the hospital lent her. Her clothes were torn from the accident.
The clothes she’s wearing now are plain, a few sizes big, but she still looks magnificent. She can wear anything and still capture my unwavering attention.
I prefer it when she’s walking around my place stark naked, her swollen breasts bouncing with each step she takes. Such a fucking cock tease. Seeing her blonde hair tumble effortlessly over her shoulders makes me want to wrap the tresses around my finger, pull her close and fuck her.
But since I can’t do that, I lose myself in her steel gray eyes instead. Sun streams in through the window, turning her eyes silver. They dazzle brighter than the ring I forced on her finger last year when I married her. Being her husband was the only way I could ensure her safety.
The front door creaks, notifying me someone’s here.
I head down the corridor, seeing Luka step in, who invites himself into my house like he owns half of it.
“You got here fast.”
“I came to check on the patient.”
“Fia is not a?—”
“Fia!” says Luka, walking across the kitchen to bring my wife into a hug. “What a fucking relief.”
Fia sets the glass down on the island, looking Luka up and down. “And who might you be? Emil’s partner in crime?”
“Incredible. You’re already starting to remember.”
I flash Luka a glare, subtly shaking my head at him.
Luka frowns, turning back to Fia and offering her a smile. “I know the terrifying suits and face say otherwise, but you’re in safe hands here with Emil.”
“Like he keeps saying,” drawls Fia, pinning me a look. “You’re lucky I have nowhere else to go.”
“Don’t fret,” says Luka, squeezing her hands. “Seattle is the last place you should be in right now. Noise pollution won’t jog your memory, but listening to birdsong all day might.” He keeps watching her. “Have faith that everything will work out.”
I grind my jaw, watching them interact.
The fear vanishes from Fia’s face as Luka gives her some reassurance.
He’s the friendly face who put her at ease the first time I held Fia captive in my house, and now he’s winning her over a second time as she nods, listening to every word.
Whether the topic is murder or amnesia, Luka always finds a way to mellow her out.
Jealousy writhes inside of me, and I hope I don’t fucking lose my wife to amnesia and my second in command.
Every man wants my wife, even if they show no signs of interest. Luka would romance her if given the opportunity, but he keeps his hands off.
As my longest friend and closest Bratva ally, he knows where he stands, and so do my other two hundred men.
I slammed a pair of severed testicles on the conference table last year, showing them what would happen if any of them tried pursuing her.
“Give it time,” says Luka. “I’m always here if you need anything.”
Fia’s face softens. She picks up the glass of water, taking more sips, instantly more at ease since Luka entered.
Son of a bitch, winning my wife over more than me.
But I know my Fia. She likes things to be a little rough around the edges and unconventional. And that’s not Luka.
She looks across the kitchen at me, her eyes like fire. She still can’t fucking help herself, her cheeks blushed red as she gulps the last of her water, swallowing harder than she needs to.
She’ll be swallowing my cum before she knows it, falling for me all over again. That’s the big difference between me and Luka. My friend might put her at ease, but can he make her scream like I do?
Absolutely not.
The intriguing look in her eye is familiar. I remember it well from when I first started stalking her three years ago. She used to catch me, her mouth saying one thing, her body language another.
Her own biology is screaming at her now as we lock eyes across the kitchen, her lips parted, sweat beading across her forehead as she sees something she likes…
Something she knows will be bad for her.