18. Tori
TORI
“Wait,” I begged as Stefan pushed me away. “Please.”
“Get dressed,” he said gruffly, re-buckling his belt and swearing under his breath.
I was completely naked, wilting and spent after the intense orgasm he had just given me. I was still coming out of my haze, struggling to comprehend what had just happened.
It was the single hottest moment I’d ever experienced. And now it was over.
Stefan grabbed a new tie and fixed his buttons, looking over at me.
“Pull yourself together,” he growled. “And make sure you look presentable, not like a whore who just got fucked in a closet.”
His words should have stung, but they just made me hotter. I liked it when he was rough. When he was intense. I wanted more.
I wanted to wrap my body around him, slide to the ground, and unbuckle his belt before taking him into my mouth. I wanted to drive him to the edge and push him over, just like he had done for me.
But now wasn’t the time. His family was here.
Stefan finished adjusting his clothes and stormed out of the closet.
He was upset, but I didn’t think it was because his family was here.
I was sure that he had been seconds away from giving me what I wanted.
Tearing his own clothes off and fucking me right on the floor of our shared closet. He had been about to lose control.
I had learned by now that it didn’t happen often. Maybe that’s why he was so pissed off.
Was that why he had been avoiding me? He didn’t want to give up his power?
Somehow, that made me feel better about everything that had happened. Maybe Stefan did want me, and desperately, but because of some fixation on maintaining complete dominance, he wasn’t allowing himself to fuck me. It wasn’t serving me, but I had to admit it was kinky.
I quickly put on one of the more modest dresses I had bought in Vienna, a lavender, knee-length sheath that covered me modestly while still showing off my shoulders. I’d find a way to break through Stefan’s ironclad control. I’d done it once, I could do it again.
With a quick check in the mirror, making sure I looked neat and presentable, instead of freshly fucked, I headed out to the dining room to greet Stefan’s family.
This would be the first significant time spent with them since the wedding, when our interactions had been brief and perfunctory. If the huge reception didn’t count, we’d never all sat down and had a meal together. I was looking forward to getting to know them better.
Four pairs of eyes turned toward me as I entered the living room.
Three pairs assessed me with appraising once-overs—Stefan, his brother, and his father—and all seemed to approve of my dress.
I ignored Konstantin’s overly familiar gaze, and turned a friendly smile toward Stefan’s younger brother, Luka.
Ignoring the way his eyes were still weighing me up, I slid past him to greet my sister-in-law, Emzee.
During the wedding, she had been the friendliest of the family, unabashedly eager to get to know me better. I didn’t know much about her personally, except that she was the baby of the family at twenty-two, and that her photography career was mostly centered around the family business.
“It’s so good to see you again! I love your dress,” Emzee told me.
“It’s good to see you all again, too. Now that we’re all here, shall we move into the dining room?” I asked, wanting to appear as much of a proper trophy wife as possible.
I had a feeling it was important to put on that show for Stefan’s family, especially his father.
I didn’t love it, but I had accepted it as part of the deal.
I really didn’t like how Konstantin seemed to always be standing just a little too close to me.
He was unbearably creepy, his eyes dragging over my body as I walked across the room.
I didn’t know where to look. I could barely look at Stefan; I knew if I did, I’d think of what had just happened in the closet and the last thing I wanted was to be blushing and flushed in front of his family. I had zero experience trying to act casual after a sexual encounter.
We all sat down to a beautifully set table, Konstantin on one end, Stefan on the other. I was seated at Stefan’s right hand, with Emzee and Luka across from me. Wine was poured, the food was served, and immediately everyone began discussing work. I shouldn’t have been surprised.
“How was casting in Budapest?” Konstantin asked Stefan. “Did you find the kind of girls we’re looking for?”
Stefan nodded, not looking at me. “I think you’ll be pleased with the options.”
“Options are good,” Luka added, clearly looking for some way to contribute to the conversation. Emzee caught my gaze and flashed me an eye-roll.
Out of all of Stefan’s family, Luka was the one I’d had the least amount of contact with. Though he was polite enough toward me at the wedding, he’d seemed like a total party boy—and no stranger to women—which was why I hadn’t given him Grace’s number. Not yet, anyway.
Not that I could blame him. He was young, handsome and rich, with his own MBA freshly under his belt.
Of course he wanted to have fun, wield all those gifts to his advantage—especially when he saw the toll that working at KZM took on someone like Stefan, who seemed incapable of having any fun that wasn’t specifically sanctioned by the agency.
“We’re going to need at least a dozen more girls in the next month,” Konstantin said, ignoring his youngest son.
“I’m working on it,” Stefan said. “You’ll get what you need.”
“It’s not what I need,” Konstantin said, and laughed. “It’s what the clients need.”
Something about the way he said ‘the clients’ made my gut twist, but I didn’t know why.
I had to admit, Konstantin made me feel ill at ease in general.
It probably had to do with the way I’d seen him hovering outside the balcony doors at my birthday party, spying on my conversation with Stefan and the kiss we’d shared after the proposal.
“I’ll send you a list of requirements,” Konstantin said, spearing a piece of asparagus on his plate.
I wanted to ask questions about the business, show that I was interested in and capable of following the conversation, but it was clear by everyone’s tone and body language that this discussion was for the Zoric family only. Is this what it felt like to be a mafia wife?
I ate quietly, listening passively, perking up only when I heard a familiar name.
“I’m surprised Oksana didn’t return with you last month,” Konstantin said. “We were expecting her in the States.”
Stefan gave an overly casual shrug, and suddenly I felt his hand on my knee.
“We never met up with her in Budapest,” he said. “She was a no show. I’ve been trying to chase her down, but she’s been out of pocket.”
His finger tap-tap-tapped against my knee, signaling me to keep quiet. Why was he lying to his father? I was full of questions. Questions I was sure I’d never get any straight answers to.
I was confused, and more than a little annoyed. Stefan had ignored me throughout the entire dinner and now he was expecting me to cover for him? I debated ‘accidentally’ exposing his lies to his father, asking if he meant the same Oksana who had taken me sightseeing.
But as upset as I was with Stefan, I disliked my father-in-law more.
Whatever was going on with Oksana, it was clearly being kept a secret for a reason.
And I didn’t want Konstantin to find out.
In fact, I would have been more comfortable if Konstantin knew literally nothing about my life with Stefan, including the people we’d met up with on our honeymoon.
Konstantin seemed to notice that something unspoken was happening between me and Stefan, because he turned his unwelcome attention toward me again, those greedy, overly familiar eyes lingering too long on my breasts as he took a bite of his bloody, rare steak.
“And how is the little wifey enjoying her new palace?” he asked, gesturing around the room with his knife.
“It’s lovely,” I said. And then I excused myself from the table.
When I came out of the bathroom, I found someone waiting for me. It wasn’t Stefan, and thankfully it wasn’t Konstantin. It was Luka.
He was leaning against the wall, but he straightened up when I started to walk back toward the dining room. He put his arm out, blocking my exit.
“Excuse me,” I said, flashing a tight smile. He’d been drinking vodka cocktails heavily the whole night, and I could tell by his glassy eyes that he wasn’t anywhere near sober.
“You look good tonight.” He gave me a long, appraising look, but it was different from the leer I’d received from his father. Luka’s look was more clinical. Like he was trying to figure me out.
“Thank you,” I said, trying to be polite. “The restroom’s all yours.”
But he didn’t budge, just flashed me the charming smile that I’d seen work so well on all the single women at my wedding.
He needn’t have bothered. Luka was cute and charming, but that didn’t change the fact that I was married to his brother.
And I also wasn’t interested. Especially after what had happened between me and Stefan in the closet.
“You’re beautiful enough to be one of our talents,” he said as he leaned closer to me, and I could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Would you like to model for me?”
“No thank you,” I told him firmly, but he didn’t seem to listen.
He reached out, pushing my hair back from my shoulders, exposing my neck. I hoped there weren’t visible marks, considering how hard Stefan had been sucking and biting me there.
“I think you would,” he said. “I think you’d get off on it. You strike me as the kind of girl who likes to be the center of attention.”
“I’m not interested,” I said, inching backward. I would have run, but there was nowhere to go. He was blocking the only way out of the hallway.
“I’d show you a good time,” he said, stepping closer again. “It doesn’t seem like Stefan will care.”
I didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t letting me through, he wasn’t listening to anything I was saying, and his hands kept reaching out to graze my hair, my shoulders, my neck, as if I was nothing more than a bolt of fabric for him to fondle.
I should have pushed him away, or yelled for help, but I was paralyzed.
“Please let me pass,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.
Luka put his hand on my upper arm, starting to squeeze. Suddenly he was yanked away from me, grunting in pain as Stefan pinned him against the wall, his feet off the ground.
“Don’t. Touch. Her,” Stefan growled.
“I didn’t do shit,” Luka snarled back, but his face was abashed. “Put me down.”
Stefan got in his face. “If I find you alone with her again, I’ll fucking kill you. Nod if you understand.”
I believed him, and it was clear that Luka did as well. His skin went ashy, and he stopped fighting. They glared at each other in a standoff for a tense moment and then Luka finally nodded. Stefan released his brother, who then stalked down the hall, back toward the dining room.
I was practically shaking, adrenaline still rushing, and was about to thank Stefan when he turned to me with vile hatred in his eyes.
“I signed up to marry a virgin,” he told me, as if it were a threat. “Make sure that’s what I get.” He walked away before I could say anything.
I sagged against the wall, torn between relief and disappointment. I was glad Stefan had saved me from his brother. But my husband had also confirmed, without any doubt, that I was nothing more than a trophy to him.