Chapter 28
SEMYON
For once, I’m glad my brother’s bossy as fuck, making us stay here in our family home. I’m relieved to know Stefan’s taken care of and doesn’t need me and Anya tonight.
We’re exhausted, both of us.
The silence in the room is deafening as we get ready for bed. I stand by the window, my fingers wrapped around a crystal glass of vodka. I need something to take the edge off and help me sleep.
Tonight, my best friend came back to us, unharmed but dangerous. Who knows where Eli’s allegiance really lies? Tonight, I beat a man to death to get answers. Tonight, I watched my wife collapse and caught her just before she hit her head on the table. I held her in my arms, oblivious to my own pain from the gunshot wound, afraid for the worst.
I’ve experienced loss so great; sometimes I fear there’s a cavernous need inside me nothing can satiate .
When Anya collapsed, I thought the worst.
When Anya was missing, I thought the worst.
When she revealed Eli was home safe, and she screamed for help… I thought the worst.
And now, I’m spent.
Anya’s in the small en suite. I can hear the water running as she takes her time. I imagine she’s feeling the way I do too. Exhausted. Wary. Uncertain of anything… including me.
The city stretches before me out the window as I sip my drink, but my mind is fixated on only one thing: Anya .
The door to the bathroom opens. She stands before me in a tiny pair of shorts with a matching tank, yawning. Adorable.
“You feeling okay?”
“Mmm,” she says with a nod. “Fine.” I narrow my eyes. It’s definitely a lie. “You?”
She shrugs a shoulder and walks to the bed, her shoulders slouching.
Why don’t you ask your wife?
“Anya.”
“Mmm?” She’s in bed with her back to me, curled up, almost like she’s trying to protect herself.
I start undressing. “Why were you outside?”
“I told you, Semyon,” she says with a yawn. “I needed some fresh air. ”
I tug off my pants and strip to my boxers before I join her in bed. I slide under the covers and sidle up beside her, spooning her from behind. She’s brutally honest when she’s vulnerable, and nothing makes her more vulnerable than sex.
My dick presses against her ass. I ignore it and place my hand flat on her belly. My thumb grazes the underside of her breast, barely covered with the thin material.
“I’m so tired,” she whispers.
“Me too. It’s all good; we just need to talk about today, is all.”
“Oh, that’s it?” She says with a hint of a laugh. “Which part? The part where I fainted at dinner and still don’t know why? Or the part where you acted as if you didn’t have a shoulder wound and held me? Maybe the part where you sat beside me in bed all rumpled and disheveled, before you did probably violent things to our prisoner before you ended him? Are those the parts you want to talk about?”
“No.”
She lets out a sigh. “I know.”
Turning to face me, her eyes are as clear as a cloudless sky, but she can’t hide the little wrinkle between her brows. Our breaths mingle. “You want to know more about how I found Eli.”
I nod. My eyes want to close. I’m so fucking tired.
“This is what I’m going to tell you,” she says in a whisper. “I’ve told you what I can. Maybe Eli can tell you more. ”
I stare at her. I want to shake her to get the truth out, but I know it won’t work that way. I’ve built my entire life around control, strategy, and cold calculation, yet nothing prepared me for the raw anger that grips me, knowing there’s more to this story and she won’t tell me.
Has she betrayed me?
Why don’t you ask your wife?
I clench my teeth. “I’ve given you protection. Stability. I took your little brother into my home, Anya.”
She stares at me and opens her mouth, then clamps it shut again. “I know.” Her pretty eyes flash at me. “You weren’t the only one who’s given here.”
I grip her shoulder. “My brothers don’t believe you. Matvei thinks you’re lying. It’s too convenient. You pass out. Disappear. End up in the yard where we have no surveillance footage and no access to phone lines?”
She grits her teeth and doesn’t speak.
She’s hurt and angry—so am I. I have no space for softness, not when she’s all but admitting she’s complicit.
“You want to pretend we’re just going to bury this?” My voice is low, menacing.
Blowing out a breath, she glares at me. I’m fully awake now. “Oh, here’s an idea. Why don’t you drag me to your basement and interrogate me? Maybe that’ll work? If you think I have so much to hide, why don’t you use the tools at your disposal?” She shakes her head. “You don’t trust me. You haven’t from the beginning, have you?”
Her eyes flash with fury.
“You don’t get to judge me when you’ve done nothing but push me away,” she hisses. “You think you can control everything, even me.”
I exhale through my nose, but my body’s thrumming, my pulse racing. In one swift move, I pin her beneath me, my hands pressed on her wrists. I’m stronger than she is, and she can’t get away, but I’m the one in her fucking grip. The silence between us is charged with need and fury.
Punishment, possession, and anger twist into one, and I kiss her. I take her mouth. Ravage it. My lips meet hers as I plunder her mouth, owning her, as her hands curl into my biceps, and I ignore the way my fucking shoulder screams with pain. She kisses me back just as fiercely, meeting me blow for blow. Our breaths mingle, our tongues dance. My dick throbs, pressed up to her.
I push her legs open with my knee. "I don't know if I can trust you," I growl in her ear. My grip tightens, my muscles coiled with restraint. I’ve never wanted to hurt Anya. But I don’t trust myself. If I let go, I could break her. No matter what she’s done, no matter if she’s betrayed me—I will never lay a hand on her in anger.
"You don't trust me?" she throws back in my face. "You were the one who pretended I had no choice in marrying you when the whole time you were planning on doing it with my father. I'm not Bratva, Semyon. I wasn't raised with the expectation that I’d be forced into marriage. You should know that."
I roll onto my back and put her legs on either side of me so she straddles me. I won't hurt her, but I know exactly how to take control. I thumb her nipples until her mouth parts open. "You weren't Bratva,” I snap. "You fucking are now."
I pinch her nipples. She screams. I take my thick, aching cock out of my boxers, remove her shorts and move a small bit of fabric—the little triangle that keeps me from her—and find her pussy, hot and slick, ready for me. Conditioned, like a good girl.
I slide her onto me, lifting her hips, and she moves, seeking her own pleasure. Her beautiful eyes flash at me, her hair falling across her face. Her hands are planted on my chest. It hurts like fuck, but I don't care.
"Well, that's obvious ."
I slap her ass hard until she hisses in a breath. I spank her again. And again.
"Behave yourself," I growl at her.
She arches a brow at me, her beautiful lips pursed like a bow. "No."
I lift her, put her on her back, and pin her beneath me. Gathering her wrists in one of my hands, I hold them above her head. "Little brat."
She opens her mouth to sass me again, but I take it with mine. Plundering. Claiming. Our lips clash with our wills. I glide my cock to her entrance and slam into her to the hilt. She arches her back and cries out. Her legs wrap around me, and I thrust into her again and again, my release mounting with my anger. Anya has no skin in this game—unless she's with another man. I lower my mouth to her ear. "Who the fuck is he?" I growl .
"I don't know what you're talking about," she protests, but it's too weak. Too fucking weak. I thrust again, harder, and she cries out, pain mingled with pleasure. Again. And again. And then I pull myself out entirely. "Names, Anya. I want fucking names."
I let her wrists free. Instead of responding, she hauls herself up, grabs the back of my head, and pulls my mouth to hers. She kisses me, her tongue teasing mine. She strokes a hand across my chest. I almost forget my question. I almost forget my name. She grabs my hips and pulls me back inside her. I give her what she wants—another hard thrust, followed by another.
"I was a virgin when I met you, Semyon. Did you forget that?" She smells like dew-kissed daisies. I groan.
Maybe I fucking did.
"The fact that you'd ask me about another man—that you think I would cheat on you? You fucking asshole," she growls. I thrust into her punishingly. My skin is slick with sweat like hers. Again, I thrust. And again. She arches into me.
"Then why were you outside?" I thrust again, pleasure building. I'm not going to let her fucking come. Not until I have the answers.
"Because I wanted to," she says, her eyes flashing with fury. "And now my brother’s here. Do you think everybody in this house betrayed you? Is that it, Semyon? You get too close to someone, and it's too much? Can't stand the heat? Too much fire for you? I know how this goes. It's like you forgot who I am, what I've been through as if you think that you're more important than me. "
"I've had enough of that sass."
I reach for the pillowcase, tug it off in one swift pull, and fasten the gag around her mouth, tying it tight at the back of her head. She glares at me. I shake my head.
I thrust into her again, and I can't help it—I love the way her eyes grow molten, and she can't stifle the sound of satisfaction deep in her throat. She wants my cock. She fucking aches for me. But when I see her eyes glistening with unshed tears, I wonder. Have I gone too far? Maybe she has been faithful through all of this. Maybe I let the asshole in my head think too much. Maybe I don't trust the way I should.
I lift her up, place her face-down on the bed, knees up, ass in the air. I slam into her until she moans and I’m on the cusp of coming myself before I tug off the gag. I need her to talk to me.
"Face down," I order, my hand hard at the small of her back. She arches into me, her perfect heart-shaped ass wearing my handprint. I bite it. She shudders and screams, melting into me—a silent plea for more.
I fuck her from behind. “You got something to tell me, woman?"
"I've already told you everything," she says, her eyes closed, her mouth parted, half on the edge of climax.
I thrust into her, relishing her moans and the graceful arch of her back. Her pussy clenches around me. I thrust again.
"If I find out you betrayed me, Anya…" I don't finish the sentence. I don't know how to. What the hell would I do if I found out she betrayed me? It's something I can't think of. Sh e's the only one I've ever allowed myself to be vulnerable with. The only one I’ve ever wanted.
The only woman I've ever loved.
Her head tilts to the side, her eyes closed as she moans. “But it's fine for you to betray me ? For you to lie to me? Hmm?”
She's right. She's fucking right.
"I'm sorry," I tell her. "I did what I thought I had to."
She cries out when I thrust again. “Is that going to be a theme in our marriage?"
"I don't know," I say to her with another thrust. " Is it , Anya?"
I was a fool for testing her. I was a fool for taking advantage of her. I've seen my family do many things in the name of loyalty and honor, but maybe, sometimes, the ends don't justify the means.
I thrust into her again—and shatter.
She screams my name and grips the blanket beneath us, her knuckles white. My hand reaches out to stroke her, and then she's coming. Screaming my name. Binding herself to me.
It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.