Page 10

I jolt awake when my phone buzzes on the nightstand, nearly sending my heart into my throat. My first thought is that it’s Grigor, maybe demanding I present myself somewhere to put on a wifey-performance or else he’ll come and drag me there again. But the second I pick up the phone, I see my father’s name glaring at me. A chill spreads through my limbs, and I’d love nothing more than to fling this device across the room.

Seraphina. I’m waiting. Where’s the intel ?

A single, curt line of text that reeks of arrogance. It hasn’t even occurred to the man to check on his newlywed daughter’s well-being or to ask how her honeymoon has been. Not that I was granted one of those. No, the meaning is clear: I owe him secrets about the Barkovs, about Grigor, or he’ll make good on his threat to use Cecily in some twisted arrangement the way he used me.

I stare at the screen, blinking through the sleepy haze. What does he expect me to do? March up to Grigor and ask him to reveal his darkest business dealings? I’ve seen only glimpses of what he does in a single day—returning home with blood on his shirt, vanishing for hours to handle Bratva matters—but I have no clue how to spin that into a decent report for Father. My husband has no reason to trust me yet, and building that kind of rapport, especially with someone I despise so much, takes time. But I agreed to my father’s demands to protect Cecily. If I want to look out for my sister, I have to find a way to get the old bastard something.

The phone buzzes again with another message: Remember our deal, or your sister pays.

A spike of anger flares in my chest, mingling with guilt and worry. My father knows exactly how to twist my arm. Cecily is the only reason I haven’t told him to shove his demands somewhere vile. If I don’t deliver some shred of intel soon, he’ll make her life hell.

I shove the blankets aside and pace the bedroom floor, trying to think this through. I’m stuck between two men, neither of whom I trust completely. My father, who sold me off like livestock, and my husband, who’s done nothing but prove how dominating he can be—though, ironically, he’s also shown glimpses of restraint. That night in his bed, I expected him to take everything. But he stopped. It left me rattled and more confused than ever.

Still, Father’s message pounds at my brain: I’m waiting. A wave of desperation rolls over me. He’s not going to let this rest, and I have no illusions about how ruthless he can be when he wants something. If he suspects I’m stalling, he won’t hesitate to threaten Cecily more directly.

The only way to gain real information is to earn Grigor’s trust. Or at least get closer to him. And if I’ve learned anything since we wed, it’s that Grigor Barkov’s confidence comes from the reactions he can illicit from people. Like that night—when his fingers drove me insane and left me trembling and wanting. That memory sends heat blooming in my core. I loathe how easily he stripped away my defenses, how a part of me craves feeling his hands on me again.

I swallow hard, wrestling with the idea that’s forming in my mind. If I’m going to get him to open up, I might need to stroke his ego a bit. Tempt him. Let him believe I’m finally ready to submit or at least share his bed willingly. The thought knots my stomach with a whole host of emotions I don’t have time to unpack right now.

I glance at my phone one last time before tossing it on the dresser. Fine. If seduction is what it takes, then I’ll do it. But I’ll do it on my terms. It’s not about pleasing him; it’s about keeping my sister safe from my father’s manipulations.

The hallway is quiet when I step out of my room. I’ve taken off my pajamas and changed into a slip of black lace that barely covers my body. That ought to get Grigor’s attention. Anxiety churns in my gut. This is insane. I’m a virgin, for crying out loud. Not some expert in seducing men. The only time Grigor and I shared any intimacy was that night when desire overrode my anger. Now I’m trying to harness that, hoping to coax him into letting down his guard.

I near the door where I know he sleeps. Since our wedding, he hasn’t demanded I share his bed. I took over his master suite, and he’s been relegated to a guest room. We’ve been stuck in this standoff, neither of us willing to close the distance. Tonight, I plan to break that, whether it ends with me out in the hallway, humiliated, or with him speaking to me like I’m not just a burden for a change.

A guard stationed near the end of the corridor glances my way. I force a scowl, daring him to comment on my attire. He looks away fast. Good. One less person to annoy me. When I reach Grigor’s door, I pause for a moment, trying to breathe through my heart rattling in my chest. Part of me wants to flee back to my room and curl up under the sheets. But my father’s threat pushes me forward.

I twist the knob. It’s unlocked. After slipping inside, I shut it quietly. The room is dark, with only the moonlight from outside providing any light. I let my eyes adjust and take in the sight of Grigor sprawled on his bed with his sheets barely covering his lower half. His broad shoulders and chest are on display, and I glimpse the defined ridges of muscle leading down his abdomen. He must be naked beneath the sheets. A flush of heat tinges my skin, and my nerves spike again. The memory of his touch, his mouth on mine, rushes back. Despite my plan, I feel a stab of genuine desire flutter through me.

He’s fast asleep, judging by his steady breathing. A gun rests on the nightstand—no surprise there. He always keeps a weapon within reach. I swallow as adrenaline zips through my veins. He’s not someone to approach lightly while unconscious, especially given the world he lives in. But I’ve come this far, and turning back now means giving up on my best chance at gleaning information and ensuring Cecily’s safety.

Stepping closer, I peel the lace slip up a bit, letting it show more of my legs, as though I need more exposure. Honestly, this already feels like too much. My cheeks burn, but I remind myself it’s just a tactic. This is for Cecily, I tell myself, ignoring the guilt at how I’m using this to manipulate Grigor.

I round the edge of the bed, trailing my eyes over his sculpted body. My heart does a flip when I see the outline of his arousal beneath the sheets, thick and unapologetically male. He’s erect even while sleeping. My core clenches at the sight. Damn it. This was supposed to be a simple, detached move, but my body betrays me by growing warm with anticipation. I push the feeling down or try to.

When I reach the side of the bed, I pause, uncertain how to proceed. Should I climb on top of him? Whisper his name? Taking a breath, I ease onto the mattress, careful not to jar him awake. My fingers reach out, longing to stroke the hard planes of his chest, but an irrational fear grips me. Of what, I’m not sure, so I chalk it up to inexperience.

I steel my nerves and let my fingertips hover over his skin. Before I can make contact, his eyes snap open, dark and alert. In a flash, he moves. One arm shoots out, capturing my wrist in a bruising grip. Then, before I can blink, he’s on his feet, pinning me back against the wall. My head hits the plaster, and my breath whooshes out of me.

A metallic click registers in my frantic mind as he presses the cold muzzle of a gun to my temple. My pulse hammers. I freeze, and terror pierces me like an icy spear.

“Who the—” he growls. Then his gaze locks onto my face, and I see the instant he realizes it’s me. He lowers the gun with a shaky hand and asks, “Seraphina?”

I suck in a breath. My heart is racing so fast I can barely speak. “Grigor—I—”

He exhales and tosses the pistol onto the bed, where it plops against the sheets. “Damn it,” he mutters, stepping back but still keeping one hand on my shoulder as though he’s not sure whether I’ll flee. His eyes drag over my barely clad body, but he squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. “What do you think you’re doing, creeping up on me like that?”

“I needed—I wanted—” Words stick in my throat. The plan was to be seductive, to slip under the covers and offer him my body. But the cold reality of his gun pressed to my head leaves me reeling.

And that’s not the only thing that has me flustered. He’s naked, and my eyes can’t help darting down, and sure enough, he’s still half-erect. The sight makes a fresh wave of desire course through me, but it’s overlaid with the panicked realization that he nearly killed me on reflex.

“Are you insane?” he demands. “Sneaking in here in the middle of the night? Do you have a death wish?”

“I knocked,” I lie. “You didn’t answer. I thought… maybe I could…” My cheeks flame with embarrassment, and my words stumble to a halt. I’m not about to tell him I came to seduce him for information, so I stay silent, letting him fill in the blanks however he likes.

His grip relaxes on my shoulder, though his expression remains stormy. “I almost shot you. Don’t ever do that again.”

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, because I genuinely am. That was reckless. No matter my motivations, I know how jumpy men in this world can be. I should’ve anticipated his reaction. My father’s threats wouldn’t matter if I ended up dead at my husband’s hand.

He heaves a ragged breath and drops his head. His gaze roams over my lace slip again, lingering at the swell of my breasts where my nipples threaten to spill out. He swallows hard, and I don’t miss the hunger appearing in his eyes. My own pulse reacts, and an unwelcome flush creeps across my skin.

For a moment, we stand locked in that charged silence, with the gun lying on the bed just inches away. My plan seems ridiculous now. I want to run, but there’s a strange magnetism to him, standing before me in the nude. My heart rate refuses to slow down.

“Grigor?” His name comes out small and unsure.

His eyes flit to mine. They’re filled with raw desire. “Yes?”

I bite my lip, debating. If I’m going to pull this off, I can’t leave now.

My next words are barely a whisper, yet they carry so much weight. “Touch me.”

His brows furrow, and he looks like he’s about to argue. I can almost hear him ask me why, after all our tension, would I allow him near me like this. But the longer we stare at each other, the less he fights it.

“Please,” I add.

He lets out a shuddering breath and closes the little bit of distance between us.

He’s taller than me, and when his face is inches from mine, he bends, pressing his lips against my neck. His hot mouth sends a thrill of need through me. My skin breaks out in goosebumps, and his teeth nip at the sensitive skin behind my ear. I can’t hold back a gasp, and a rush of damp heat pools between my legs.

“Like this?”

I can only manage a nod. He continues, and his mouth works its way down to my collarbone, sending shockwaves throughout my body. He pulls the straps of my slip down, letting the material pool around my waist. His large, calloused hands skim over my shoulders and breasts, and my nipples pebble beneath his touch.

“Goddamn,” he breathes.

I let out a whimper, not trusting myself to speak. I hate the effect he has on me, but the heat of his touch and the deep timbre of his voice are doing things to my body. His length presses into my abdomen, and I can’t resist looking down at him. A drop of pre-cum beads at the tip, and an overwhelming need to touch him overrides my better judgment.

I slide a tentative hand between us, and when I wrap my fingers around his shaft, he groans. The sound makes my knees weak, and a fresh wave of wetness gathers between my thighs. I’ve never touched a man before, but the instinct takes over, and I pump my fist, stroking. He’s smooth and hard, and the knowledge that I can affect him this way is a heady feeling.

His mouth finds mine, and his tongue explores my lips. I part them, and he plunges in, devouring me. I’ve never been kissed like this, with such desperation and hunger, and the raw need makes me dizzy. My whole body is aching and yearning for more. I’m throbbing with desire, and I can’t remember why I didn’t want him to touch me again.

His hands travel to my hips, and he lifts me up with ease. My legs wrap around his waist, and he carries me over to the bed, laying me down. I’m trapped beneath him, and a sliver of fear runs through me. This is unfamiliar territory, but a bigger part of me wants him, wants more of his hands and mouth and everything.

He leans down and kisses me again, slow and deep, and his tongue strokes against mine. His cock is straining against my inner thigh, and my hips arch up, seeking friction. His hand slips between us, and when he finds my soaked slit, his fingers circle my clit. The pressure is exquisite, and my legs fall open, begging for more.

He chuckles, low and gravelly, and the sound goes straight to my core. “You like that, Krasivaya ?”

I’m panting now, and my brain can’t form a response. Instead, I grind my hips against his hand, urging him on. He doesn’t need more convincing, and he slips a finger inside, stretching me as he lowers his mouth to my nipple. When he sucks the sensitive peak, I let out a cry of pleasure. My pussy clenches around his digit, and he adds another, pumping in and out.

He kisses his way down my body, and when his mouth reaches my sex, his tongue swirls over my clit. My hands fist in the sheets, and my head is spinning. I can’t get enough air, and the pleasure is so intense, it’s almost painful. He keeps licking and sucking, and his fingers continue working in and out of me. His fingers curl inside me, finding that perfect spot, and I can’t even recognize the voice coming out of me, begging him not to stop.

The pressure builds, and I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall. I’m desperate for release, and I’m so close, but I don’t want to fall over yet. I’m desperate for his cock, desperate to feel him inside me.

I tug at his shoulders, pulling him up, and he obliges. His lips are glistening with my juices, and the sight is erotic. I don’t hesitate, kissing him hard and tasting myself on his mouth. He positions himself between my legs, and his length rubs against my slick folds.

“Do you want this?”

I’m already nodding before he’s even finished asking.

“Say it,” he demands. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I want you.”

“Good girl.” He gives a gentle nudge forward, and the head of his cock breaches my entrance.

I inhale sharply, and a mixture of pain and pleasure spreads through me. He pushes in slowly, stretching me, and his eyes lock onto mine. There’s an intensity there, something deeper than just lust, but it’s gone too quickly. My thoughts scatter, and all I can focus on is the feeling of him filling me, his cock sliding deeper and deeper.

When he’s fully sheathed, he pauses, letting me adjust. The pain is fading, and a delicious fullness takes its place. I move against him, urging him on, and he begins to thrust, long and deep.

“God, Seraphina.”

My name on his lips sounds foreign. Hearing him say it so reverently makes my heart skip.

His movements pick up speed, and his cock drives into me. I wrap my legs around him, taking him deeper, and my hips arch to meet him. It feels incredible, and I’m lost in the sensation of his body joined with mine. He’s everywhere, surrounding me, and his scent envelopes me.

He lowers his head and kisses me again, and his tongue plunders my mouth, matching the rhythm of his cock inside me. My skin is hot, and my pussy clenches around him. My breasts are crushed against his chest, and his stubble is rough against my cheek. I never knew pleasure like this existed.

His breathing grows ragged, and he pumps faster. I’m climbing toward that peak again, and I know he’s getting close, too.

His thumb finds my clit, and the added pressure is too much. I let go, and my orgasm crashes over me. Pleasure rolls through me, and I cry out his name, digging my nails into his back. He gives a few more thrusts, and then he’s coming, too, filling me with his seed.

He buries his face in my neck, grunting and panting, and I’m still seeing stars. We’re both slick with sweat, and his body is heavy on mine, but I don’t care. All the tension is gone, and there’s nothing but euphoria and a deep sense of satisfaction.

After a moment, he rolls off me, and the sudden absence of his weight is jarring. He pulls me into his side, and his arm wraps around me. The gesture is unexpectedly tender, and my body stiffens. This isn’t how I imagined it would be, cuddling and falling asleep together. It feels too intimate.

He nuzzles his face in my hair. “You’re mine now,” he whispers.

I blink, uncertain what to make of the statement. It should probably bother me, but instead, a surge of possessiveness wells up inside me. A tiny, delusional part of me wants him all to myself.

But I know that’s impossible. Even if this had nothing to do with my father and the Bratva, we’re still two different people, bound by a marriage neither of us wanted.

I’m not his. Not really. And he isn’t mine. When the sun comes up, the reality of that will set in again. But for now, I let myself enjoy the comfort of his body.

My thoughts turn to Cecily and my father. Maybe Grigor will be more willing to talk now that we’ve crossed this line. I can only hope so, because the consequences of failure aren’t something I’m willing to consider.