Chapter 14 Danica
DANICA
Vadim and I pass like ships in the night.
we have been for the past ten days since he had his men walk into my house and package up my things to bring here.
It's an uncomfortable dance we've been doing where he wakes before me and leaves coffee on the counter.
I'm off to work before he's home for the day and he doesn’t wait up.
And all night long, there is a canyon between us on the bed as we sleep back to back.
It's uncomfortable and sad, and I wish it were different, but I don't know how to fix that.
We just rushed into this and he forced me to do one too many things I'm unhappy about.
Though, at least Petr has been blessedly absent from the restaurant since Zoran ran him off—a fact that made tonight's shift easier for me.
My feet throb with every step and the sun setting behind me is casting long shadows across the front door.
I dig through my purse for keys and my fingers brush past receipts and loose change before finding the metal ring.
It's late and I just want to have a hot shower and crawl into bed to sleep, but when the lock clicks and I push the door open expecting darkness and quiet, cigarette smoke hits me in the face.
I freeze with one hand still on the doorknob because Vadim doesn't smoke inside the house, but the smell is thick enough to make my eyes water. Underneath it I hear voices, and they're all male. They're coming from the living room, and I recognize Vadim's voice among them.
When I step through the door, it all makes sense. Five men are gathered around the coffee table chatting and shooting the breeze. Smoke rolls upward from the cigars they each have in their hand, and Vadim leans back casually, chuckling at something one of them said.
I must be walking into one of his business meetings unannounced, and I'm not fond of it.
This isn't my house, but the lack of respect is repulsive.
Shoes on the table, ashes that have been dropped to the floor and missed the ash tray entirely.
I find myself growing tense and scowling as I tuck the key into my pocket and set my purse down.
"What's this?" I ask, and Vadim looks up like he's surprised to see me. Like I don't always come home around this time and expect to have a quiet house and a dark room to crawl into bed.
He barks something in Russian and the men move, gathering up the documents and papers in front of them until the coffee table is clean and the men are all standing and marching toward me.
They file past me one by one, but none of them look at me. Vuk is the last to leave and he pauses in the doorway to say, "Tomorrow, Boss," then he steps out and shuts the door behind himself.
Vadim hasn't moved since I got in except to speak, and his cigar still streams thick white smoke into the air. I know I might not have any real right to complain that they were all here making a mess and making the house stink, but I do deserve a safe, clean environment.
"What was that?" I probably sound harpy and tired, but I don't care. I am harpy and tired. I just want to sleep.
"Nothing you need to worry about." Vadim leans forward and starts brushing ash into his palm to drop into the ashtray, but I'm sick of his dismissing me like that.
I've been tiptoeing around this man for weeks now doing everything he asked me to do. I tidy up during the day and leave him alone to do his evil job. If I come home to a bunch of criminals in the living room, I have a right to know what they’re doing. I don't want to be associated with his crimes.
"You brought them here." I gesture at the coffee table. "Into the house."
"It's my house." He drops a handful of ash into the ashtray and his palm is black from it. He wipes it on his jeans as he says, "I can do what I want."
"It's supposed to be our house," I snip, though I know it's not really true. When he hoped to bridge this gap, I pushed him away. We've barely spoken since. I have no right to claim ownership over his home, but I have to try to stand up for myself. "That's the whole point of this, isn't it?"
He stands up slowly and sets his cigar in the ashtray before wiping his hands on his jeans again.
He looks frustrated with me, and I just don't care.
"Don't throw that at me when you've been treating me like a stranger for the past week and a half.
" He walks past me toward the kitchen. "You don't get to play the outraged wife now. "
I follow him into the kitchen where he stands at the sink washing his hands.
Maybe he's right, but it doesn't stop me from being annoyed.
I should've just told him how Petr grabbed me and Zoran had to defend me, but I didn't want him thinking he could go after Petr.
I have enough issues with the man without Vadim getting involved in it.
"I don't want to be part of whatever you're doing." I lean against the counter. "Whatever criminal activity you're running. I don't want any part of it."
"You're already part of it." He turns off the water and dries his hand with a dishtowel. "You became part of it when you married me."
"You damn well know you never gave me a choice," I snarl angrily, trying to make a point, and it makes his temper flare.
Vadim closes the distance between us and slams his hands against the counter on either side of me. His face is inches from mine and his eyes are blazing with anger. "Watch how you speak with me. I'm not going to keep pretending to play nice forever."
"I hate you," I hiss, though I must admit his being this close to me makes my pulse race. Vadim is so powerful and sometimes, that power and fury are a turn-on even when I'm angry with him.
"No, you don't," he snarls. " You hate that every night, you lie in that bed wishing I would touch you."
"You stupid asshole," I hiss, and I try to walk away but he pins me in, not letting me get past him. It's worse than Petr, and yet it's intoxicating. I do want him to touch me, and he's so goddamn infuriating and I feel like a fool for wanting it.
"Move," I order, but he grips my jaw and forces me to look at him.
"This is my house, Danica, and sometimes I have work here.
I asked my men to leave as soon as you walked in so you could relax.
Now if you want to speak to me like a nagging wife, then you will perform the duties of a wife.
" As he speaks, his eyes dart around my face and drop to my lips before returning to hold my gaze.
"Fuck you," I say sternly, but now he has my attention. I realized the instant those men got up at his order that he had asked them to leave. I thought it was to protect his secrets. I never realized he did that for me.
"Talk to me like that again. I dare you," he says as he shakes my jaw a bit to get my attention.
My blood is pumping, and my fingers tingle to touch him, my body to be touched by him. But the way he's looking at me is pure rage, not lust. I don’t know if he wants to devour me or break my neck. I never can tell the difference. Besides, we don’t even like each other.
He doesn't make any attempt to make this seem like a real marriage. We don't talk. When I come to bed, he's sleeping or pretending to be, and he never waits to have coffee with me. That isn't any relationship.
And I don't want to be that woman who throws her body at a man. Not even a man she's married to. It's just gross. I want to be wanted.
"I said, fuck you, you bastard. Let me go now." My chest is heaving in a yo-yo between wanting him and wanting him to let me go. But I'm leaning heavily on the former.
Vadim doesn't back away. Instead he lets his hand slide from my jaw to my neck where he squeezes gently, letting his fingers trail over my pulse point for a moment.
"You have no idea how infuriating you are."
"You have no idea how much I want to kick you in the balls right now," I snarl, but honestly, it's the last thing from my mind. He might be a total jerk at times, but this man knows how to make my body come alive. I've felt it. It's coursing through my body right now.
"Are you as turned on as I am?" he asks me softly, with his lips inches from mine, and I nod at him.
"Every fucking cell in my body," I respond, and his other hand grips my waist, pulling me against him.
He kisses me hard, and I'm already pulling at his shirt trying to get it off. His hands are everywhere at once and I can't think straight. All I know is that I need this. I need him. I need to stop thinking about everything else and just feel something other than anger and fear.
Vadim breaks the kiss long enough to yank his shirt over his head, and then his hands are on me again, grabbing the hem of my uniform top greedily to pull it up. I lift my arms to help him and the fabric catches on my bra for a second, then I'm standing there in front of him half-naked.
His eyes rake over me and I watch his jaw clench. He looks at me like he wants to devour me, and it makes my stomach flip. His hand comes up and cups my breast through my bra, and I gasp at the contact.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he growls against my neck. His teeth scrape against my skin and I arch into him. The heat of his palms on me is intoxicating. It makes my core tingle and ache, pulsing and probably soaking my panties.
My hands fumble with his belt and I can hear how desperate I sound trying to get it undone. He helps me and then his jeans are on the floor and he's lifting me up onto the counter. The cold surface makes me gasp, but then his mouth is on mine again and I don't care.
He reaches around and unhooks my bra with one hand, then slides the straps down my arms and tosses it to the floor with everything else. When he gropes my breasts and sucks on my neck, I let a whimper of pleasure escape.
"Vadim," I breathe, and he makes a sound low in his throat that's pure satisfaction.