Chapter 19 Inessa
INESSA
The sun beats down on me through the dining room windows as I push greens around my plate.
My appetite is gone.
There's been too much drama and bloodshed to even get my bearings about me since the wedding weeks ago, and the idea of putting my father to rest consumes my thoughts.
When I'm not battling my anger toward the Kozlov regime and the attacks on my showrooms, I'm bone-weary, lying in my bed in a depressive slump.
I wonder how long it will be before my heart and mind can return to normal after losing Batya.
Rosa sits across from me like a doting parent, worrying herself over my wellbeing.
She chides me like a mother, and I can see why Yuri keeps her around, but I turn away even her best attempts.
I do manage a few bites of the roasted chicken, even though the food tastes flat.
I just need news from outside, need to know what's happening with my business, with the investigation into Batya's death.
I want to start the process of grieving, but it feels like I'll be perpetually stuck here in limbo until we have a proper funeral and wake.
Yuri enters the dining room, causing us both to look up at him.
His dark eyes scan the room before settling on me.
I barely hold his gaze a second before letting it slump back to my plate.
I know what he'll say, but I don't have emotional energy to hear it today.
Everything seems so heavy now.
I'm not just losing my father or my business.
A few of my staff members are dead, succumbed to their wounds.
It's gut wrenching that other people, those who looked to me for provision, are feeling the same thing I felt when Batya was murdered.
"You're not eating," Yuri observes, taking the chair across from me when Rosa vacates it and gives us some privacy.
"I'm fine," I tell him, but I don't look up at him again.
I don't know why he even cares.
"You're many things, Inessa. Fine isn't one of them."
Rosa brings him coffee without being asked, then retreats to give us more privacy.
For a while the room is silent, the way it gets when someone doesn't know what to say.
Yuri and I both lost someone that day, yet he acts like Dominic's death isn't affecting him.
Or maybe he's taking out his grief by slaughtering the Kozlovs for what they did.
I wish I were that way—able to put into my fists and fury the deep void that burrowed its way into my heart that day.
But I'm not like him.
I'm not a killer and I'm not a violent person.
I think I could be if I had to be, but I don't want to be.
And just thinking like that makes me feel nauseous.
"I need air," I tell him, and I start to stand up, but he lays his hand over mine and I pause, relaxing back into the seat.
"The air here is real enough."
"You know what I mean," I grumble, relinquishing my will to fight him.
My heart aches in ways he may never understand because I'm not sure he's capable of true love the way I am.
Yuri leans back in his chair, studying me with those penetrating eyes.
"Tell me what you really want."
The direct question catches me off guard.
I set down my fork and meet his stare.
"I want to visit Alina. She's still in the hospital recovering, and I haven't seen her since…"
I let the sentence trail off as I think about it.
She was in the critical care unit when I visited the others.
I wasn't able to get to her.
Now I feel like a bad friend for not trying harder.
"No."
"She's my best friend. She nearly died because of the chaos surrounding our families. I owe her—"
"You owe her nothing, milaya. Her injuries were unfortunate, but they weren't your fault."
Heat flares in my chest.
"Everything that's happened is connected to me. My wedding, my business… Alina got caught in the crossfire because she's loyal to me."
I force myself to remain calm.
"I just want to see my friend."
But even as I say the words, my mind drifts to the call I made this morning.
It took three attempts to pickpocket a phone from Kirill when he was distracted by Rosa's baking.
His attention had wandered to the fresh bread cooling on the kitchen counter, and I'd slipped the device from his jacket with fingers that barely trembled.
I need connection to the outside world that is more than just more bad news about yet another bombing at one of my facilities.
I wanted to hear my mother's voice, even if she refused to be the mother I needed.
So I called her, and I don't regret it.
The conversation replays in my mind, her honeyed voice promising rescue, insisting she only wanted to bring me home where I belonged, away from Yuri's grip.
I'm not sure I need rescuing from him anymore, but her desire to mend the burnt bridge moves my heart.
The call lasted maybe ninety seconds before I heard footsteps and had to end it, but those brief words reignited hope I've had since I was a child that somehow, I could find a way to heal my family.
"Inessa."
Yuri's voice cuts through my thoughts.
"Where did you go?"
Back to the present.
Back to him watching me with those dark, knowing eyes.
"Nowhere. I'm right here."
"Your body is. Your mind went somewhere else entirely."
I straighten in my chair, drawing on the composure that's served me through many a client meeting or fatherly lecture.
"I need this, Yuri. One afternoon with my friend. Two hours, maybe three. I'll take guards, I'll follow whatever security protocols you require. But I need to see her."
"Why is it so important?"
The question is simple, but his tone suggests he already knows there's more to this request than friendship.
I lean forward, letting vulnerability creep into my voice.
"Because I'm drowning here. Because I lost my father and my entire world changed overnight, and the one person who might understand what I'm going through is lying in a hospital bed while I sit in this compound feeling useless."
Yuri's expression doesn't soften, but something shifts in his posture as I continue, and I realize maybe I do have some sway here.
He's actually listening.
"Because you've been incredible to me."
The words spill out of my mouth even as I'm wrapping my mind around what I'm doing, and they're not entirely false.
I may just manipulate him into giving me what I want simply by playing into his desire for me.
"You've protected me, provided for me, made sure I'm safe. But I need to feel human again, not just… preserved."
"But it's dangerous out there for you right now."
"And there's a predator inside these walls who stalks me too."
I purposefully allow my tone to become seductive.
Shame flushes my cheeks.
I can feel it burning, but I pray he believes it's arousal and not a dead giveaway that I'm lying to him.
I want to see my mother, and he's already made it clear that doing so is off the table.
So if I have to lie to him to make it happen, I will do what I must.
I stand and move around the table, stopping beside his chair.
My fingers trace the edge of his collar, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric.
"Please, suprug, you don't know what it would mean to me."
His hand captures mine, thumb brushing across my knuckles.
"You know what I want?"
"I know what you like," I tell him, sensing the tension between us as I wait to see if he's realized how I'm taking advantage of his lust for my body.
"I want you, Inessa. I want every part of you."
Yuri's grip tightens, and I know I've got him right where I want him.
"Then take it."
I lean closer, letting my lips brush against his ear.
"Take whatever you want from me, and then let me have this one thing."
Yuri turns in his chair, his free hand settling on my hip.
"Strip."
The devilish look in his eyes has me feeling heat from head to toe.
The command sends electricity down my spine.
"Here?"
"Right here. Right now."
My pulse quickens.
Rosa could return any moment.
Guards patrol the hallways.
But the heat in Yuri's eyes tells me he doesn't care, and the desperate need to secure this permission drives me.
My eyes flick nervously toward the door, but I have no choice.
I instigated this, and I have to follow through or he will know I'm simply using my body to get what I want.
I step back and reach for the hem of my sweater, pulling it over my head in one smooth motion.
Yuri's eyes drink me in and then he says, "Continue."
My slacks follow, pooling around my ankles.
Then my undergarments, until I'm standing naked in his dining room, heart racing with anticipation and the thrill of knowing I have this power over him.
Yuri's gaze travels over my body with appreciation, lingering on curves and angles before returning to my face.
"Come here," he orders, and I move to him, where his hands settle on my waist, drawing me closer until I'm standing between his legs.
The fabric of his suit is rough against my bare skin.
"You're beautiful when you want something," he murmurs, fingers tracing patterns along my ribs.
"Desperate looks good on you."
"Is that a yes?"
Instead of answering, he pulls me down onto his lap, and I can feel the evidence of his desire through his trousers.
His mouth finds mine in a kiss that's both punishment and reward, demanding and giving in equal measure.
Yuri doesn’t give me a chance to think.
His mouth claims mine fiercely, and his hand closes around the back of my neck to hold me in place.
The chair creaks beneath our weight as he drags me fully onto his lap, grinding my bare skin against the hardness straining his trousers.
I clutch at his shoulders, breathless, the scrape of his stubble burning against my lips.
“Spread your legs.”
His voice drops, and I know every syllable is meant to be obeyed.
I obey, my thighs falling open across his, and shame tangles with arousal.
He doesn’t care that I’m exposed in the middle of his home.
He wants me to be vulnerable, and I give it to him.
His hand slides between my legs, fingers tracing the wetness he’s already coaxed from me.
He growls against my mouth, satisfied, then pulls back just far enough to watch my reaction as two fingers push inside.
My head tips back, a grunt breaking from me despite my attempts to stay quiet, and his thumb circles until my hips jerk against his hand.
“Look how sexy you are,” he mutters, his breath hot against my ear.
“You’re dripping for me.”
“Yuri—”
My protest melts into a moan as he curls his fingers, dragging sensation through me until I’m clinging to him.
His free hand grips my thigh, keeping me spread wide while he works me mercilessly, drawing out the wet sounds of my body.
It's loud and it's humiliating, but it feels incredible.
I bite down on his shoulder through the fabric of his suit, muffling myself, but he only chuckles darkly.
“No hiding. Let them hear you if they pass by.”
The thought terrifies me, yet it makes my pulse race faster.
I can’t control the sounds that tear from my throat as his pace builds, driving me higher until I’m clenching around his fingers.
Heat rips through me in waves, my climax tearing loose before I can fight it.
My body shudders and jolts, and he slows only enough to draw every last spasm out of me.
When I sag against him, trembling, he pulls his hand free and presses his slick fingers against my lips.
“Taste what you beg me for.”
Shame sears through me, but I part my lips and take him in.
The salty tang fills my mouth, and his eyes darken as he watches.
“Good girl,” he says. "Now ride me.”
He shifts, undoing his belt with one hand while still holding me with the other.
The metallic click of the buckle echoes, followed by the rasp of his zipper.
I lift myself enough for him to shove his trousers down, freeing himself.
The sight of him—thick, hard, pulsing with need—makes my throat tighten.
He positions me above him, his grip bruising at my hips.
“Now,” he commands, and I lower myself onto him.
The stretch burns, every inch forcing me open until I’m filled completely.
A ragged cry escapes me, my nails digging into his shoulders as he drives me down until I’m seated fully.
“Fuck, Inessa,” he groans, head tipping back for the first time, his control slipping.
“What are you doing to me? Your body fits me like a glove."
He doesn’t let me find a rhythm.
His hands drag me up and slam me back down, over and over, the brutal pace tearing gasps from my throat.
My body bounces against his, the chair groaning beneath us as if it might break.
Each thrust grinds his cock deeper, and pleasure coils hard and fast inside me again.
“I want to hear you beg,” he demands, his mouth at my ear, teeth catching my skin.
“Tell me who owns you.”
“You,” I gasp, the word spilling out with no thought.
“You own me.”
His growl vibrates through me, and his pace turns feral.
The slap of flesh and the scrape of wood against the floor fill the room.
I clutch his head, forcing his gaze to mine even as my body falls apart.
My climax hits again, violently, pulling cries from my throat as I convulse around him.
He doesn’t stop.
He drives into me harder, chasing his own end, sweat dampening his temples.
His mouth crushes mine, swallowing every cry, until with a guttural snarl, he jerks beneath me.
His cock pulses, filling me as he grinds me down hard against his lap, refusing to let me move until he’s emptied himself deep inside.
I collapse against his chest, both of us heaving for air, his hands still locked on my hips as if he’ll never let me go.
The dining room spins around me, forgotten.
Rosa, the guards, the risk—it all fades beneath the raw truth of what just happened.
I rest against his chest, both of us breathing hard.
His fingers brush up and down my spine while I wait for his answer.
Part of me feels like even if he refuses, that sex was worth it, but the ache is still there.
I still want to go see someone familiar.
"Two hours," he says finally.
"Oleg and Alexei will accompany you. You don't leave their sight, you don't make any stops, and you return directly here."
Relief floods through me, so intense, I nearly sag against him.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet."
His hand tangles in my hair, tilting my head back so I'm forced to meet his gaze.
"If you betray my trust, there won't be a second chance. Do you understand?"
"I understand."
But even as I nod, my mother's voice echoes in my memory.
Come home, Inessa. Let me help you escape this prison.
Yuri's thumb brushes across my lower lip.
"I hope you do."
He helps me dress with gentle touches and hungry kisses.
When I'm clothed again, he pulls me close for one more kiss, this one softer but no less possessive.
"Be ready in an hour," he tells me.
"And don't make me regret this."
I nod and leave the dining room, my heart pounding with equal parts anticipation and guilt.
In sixty minutes, I'll be outside these walls for the first time in a week.
And maybe, if I'm clever enough, I'll figure out how to mend my family which has been broken so long, I don’t remember why it fell apart.