10. Carina
CARINA
So that’s how this is going to be.
I lay awake early the next morning. The soreness between my legs registered first. Then all the burns, the friction from his facial hair and the sucks from his lips. Both of my nipples were raw and sensitive under the sheet, and I grimaced at the reminder.
If I could have it my way, I’d fall back asleep and wake up to another reality.
One where I wasn’t forced into a damn marriage.
One where any man I was with could treat me with respect and not try to own me.
But he did.
He totally did.
All night long, Maksim wanted to possess my body. He’d left no inch untouched, bringing me again and again to come under his “instruction” and “order”. Without needing to say the words, he commanded me to let him master my body.
On the bed here in the guest room, he took my virginity. With no preamble, he fucked me raw and hard, and I loved it. Then in the shower, he fucked me again against the wall of the shower stall. And once more on a chair, and then ending up on the floor, we fucked again.
It wasn’t enough, either, and that was what sickened and bothered me the most.
I wanted him again.
That unbelievably blissful freedom to come was a foreign reward I yearned for as I woke up.
On the heels of that, I fell deeper into despair that I’d caved at all. That with so few words and touches, he’d seduced me.
Fury snuck in as I opened my eyes.
Maksim Volkov hadn’t even had to try to get me willing and naked under him. The first sight of his cock had me drooling and too impatient to experience it stretching me. The first touch of his lips on my breast had me desperate to ride him for all I was worth.
And that wasn’t right.
Sex was sex. Biology. Physical reactions that followed the sequence of pheromones.
I should’ve been able to overcome such base nonsense. I wasn’t a nitwit. I was a smart woman with skills and knowledge and the fortitude to contribute to complex smuggling plans.
How the mighty fall.
I sat up and scowled at the rest of the bed. The empty bed.
He didn’t stay.
Why would he?
We both agreed it was just an arrangement.
“Just get over it,” I muttered to myself.
Unsure what I was supposed to even do now, I got up and showered. Dressed to go to the gym, I left my room and headed downstairs.
Back home, I’d be on top of Arturo’s agenda, assisting him and the runners with another smuggling operation.
Here, I had no purpose.
Other than… to be his thing to fuck?
It was such a waste. It was an insult.
I had so much to offer, so much I needed to help my brother with, and here I was, expected to play housewife or something like that?
I found him in the dining room. Smells of coffee and breakfast lured me there, but when I entered the room, Maksim only glanced up for a second.
Cool.
Uninterested.
In control.
He wasn’t showing a single sign of what he’d done last night, all those angry looks of impatience or the needy glares of desire as he pounded into me.
No desire whatsoever.
Fine.
Whatever.
I sat next to him, though, taking the hint that I could with the unused coffee mug set there. The plate was probably for me as well, unless he had other guests in mind.
He didn’t react or greet me as I began to load my plate with proteins, skipping the empty calories of pastries. A black coffee and I was good to go.
Not that I have any clue where to go or what to do around here.
Based on the first night I was here, I guessed that I was going to be left to my own devices and just be a captive spouse or something. To me, that meant going to the gym and working out. Then maybe walking around in the garden?
Fuck, what am I going to do with myself?
I had never been into TV or reading, too focused on being a daddy’s girl and wanting to help the Cartel.
I hadn’t heard from my brother, and even if I did, I wouldn’t have known what to tell him in terms of spying. There was nothing to report.
Bored with the silence as I ate, I glanced over at the papers and images he had lying around. The pile didn’t seem to have any organization, but I realized what he was reviewing. I’d seen GPS maps of the areas before. I’d familiarized myself with the code speak that was used when setting up a run.
All the papers he was looking over were the gritty kinds of details I was used to.
He didn’t hide them. He didn’t even seem bothered by my presence, like I wasn’t even on his radar.
The more I looked, though, even from the limited view I had, it was crystal clear that issues would pop up with this specific smuggling plan and the corresponding routes.
“You’ll never be able to get a shipment on that interstate.”
He went still for a second after I spoke. It was the only sign that I had that he’d even heard me.
Fine. Suit yourself. Ignore me.
“Excuse me?”
It came out of his sexy mouth in a clipped tone.
“That route. It won’t work.” I leaned over slightly, careful not to spill my coffee. “A shipment of those chips? No. They won’t get past the posts that El Carmen has that close to the Gulf.” I shook my head.
He lowered the paper in his hand. It rested on top of another sheet as he folded his hands in his laps. “It won’t?”
I shook my head.
“And you presume to form this opinion because…”
“It’s not an opinion,” I retorted.
“Is this another version of your not liking instructions or orders but being open to ‘suggestions’?”
Damn him for teasing me. But what else should I expect? No man would ever take me seriously.
“It’s a fact,” I replied tightly. “El Carmen’s turf is supposed to extend from here”—I pointed on the map—“to there. But he’s been negotiating with the other Cartel agents at the border to unofficially have leeway through here.” Another point on the map. “They’ve had that set up for years.”
When he didn’t speak, I glanced up and raised my brows.
He sat there, watching me. Not amused like he wanted to mock me for what I said. Not bored like he was getting sick of me talking at all. A blank, perhaps curious, stare.
“If you needed to get something here, you could probably do something like this.” I took his pen and drew an arrow, explaining as I went why this route would take longer but would be more secure with obstacles and interventions along the way.
“And if you avoid the road closures up here,” I said, drawing another bold line to point out the traffic issue that would mean more adjustments, “to end up here where there are already independent distributors you could sell to, if you’re looking for new buyers, then you’d save millions with one less step in the middle. ”
I couldn’t have talked for more than twenty minutes, but it was long enough for my coffee to go cold. Sipping it brought a slight wince to my face, but I swallowed it down and wondered when he’d react. When he’d say something.
“What about this route?” He took the pen from me, charging me with a stupid bolt of awareness when his fingers brushed against mine.
Drawing another line on the map, he gave me a show of his tatted arm flexing with his shirt sleeve rolled up.
Distracted, I zoned out on the sight of his power and the intoxicating memory of when he’d had those arms around me last night.
Feeling his attention on me, I cleared my throat and blinked away the desire clouding my mind.
“No. That wouldn’t be any better.” I took the pen and pointed out the obstacles like checkpoints and law enforcement spots along that way.
For another half hour, he proposed alternatives to ideas. All throughout it, he heard me out. Patiently. Without criticism. He sat there and listened to everything I showed and explained in succinct detail.
“I never considered that,” he muttered later, rubbing his chin as he studied the papers and maps.
Pride lit up like fireworks inside me.
Joy and a deep and real sense of accomplishment had me biting my lip to hide a smile.
It was startling how much I could enjoy the basic thing of being respected rather than subjected to inferiority. He wasn’t tolerating me. He was actively listening and engaging with me about ideas and facts I laid out plainly.
Warmed by the thought that he could appreciate the logical advice I was providing him, I pulled my lips in and waited for him to say something.
Sure, he’d be curious how I’d claim to know this.
And yeah, he’d be nervous whether I was making this up to throw him off, based on his warning about my being here to spy for my brother.
Instead, while I sat here and knew that what I’d shown him on paper was accurate, I felt like I was giving away too much rather than trying to get intel to share.
This glee of being seen and heard and respected was something that I’d never felt when I told Arturo how a plan would fail or potentially succeed.
My brother had taken me for granted.
But my husband…
I glanced at him sitting there so quiet and focused. Pensive.
Finally, he nodded and raised a brow. “I hadn’t expected this much insight.”
“From me?” I asked with a huff.
He frowned. “I had no fucking clue what to expect from you, Carina. But a complete and thorough analysis of smuggling routes wasn’t at the top of the list.”
I sat back and shrugged. Dismissed again. “Fine. I guess this is your way of ‘suggesting’ I shut up and butt out.” I rolled my eyes.
“No.” He narrowed his eyes. “Not at all. Just…” He shrugged and almost smiled. “Just color me surprised.”
But not bothered?
Annoyed?
Peeved?
Threatened?
I looked off to the side. “Yeah, well, I know how men hate to be told when they are wrong.”
“You don’t know me.”
I swung my gaze to him.
I knew how he felt deep inside me when he made me shatter with one orgasm after another.
That wasn’t the angle he was projecting right now.
Watching me seriously, openly, he cleared his throat before continuing. “Because I would only hate it if I were ignorantly behind a faulty plan that could be proven with the loss of men or product.”
It wasn’t a thank you for my input, but it felt awfully damn close to one. I never wanted to lose the memory of this moment.