Page 11 of Broken Vows (Marital Privileges #4)
Mikhail
T aking Emerson to the private airstrip was a mistake. I wasn’t thinking with my head when I made my decision. I also wasn’t thinking with my heart. My dick took center stage like it did anytime Emerson negotiated with her body to get her way.
I thought maybe if she saw how hard I had been trying to give her the best life before she dumped me, she’d stop treating me like the enemy and, instead, give me the respect of a man she tore to fucking shreds.
I should have known better.
One of Emerson’s best traits is her spitfire stubbornness. I love that she won’t take shit from anyone. I just never anticipated I’d be her target one day instead of her spotter.
My phone rings as our chauffeur-driven car glides down a long driveway. I smile when I see the name flashing across the screen. Emerson snarls.
Our opposite responses remind me of the tit-for-tat game we kept a tally of our entire relationship, and it has me mentally calculating ways to even the score.
After sliding my thumb across the screen, I squash my phone to my ear. “Hey, sunshine. Miss me already?”
Andrik, in a muffled voice, threatens to kill me unless I choose a new nickname for his wife.
He believes I only give pet names to the girls I want to fuck.
Since he is on the money, I screw up my nose before fighting the urge to gag.
I didn’t know Zoya was my sister when I gave her my digits and a nickname.
The rueful churns of my stomach weaken when Zoya asks, “Konstantine is tracking your movements. He said you’ve arrived at Zelenolsk Manor, but the tint on your SUV is too dark to infiltrate with a drone, so he’s clueless if you’re with company or riding solo. Please tell me she said yes.”
I take a moment to digest all the secrets she spilled before I fling my eyes to Emerson.
She is trying to act unaffected by both my conversation and the nickname I gave.
She’s a shit actor.
Jealousy has never looked better.
It has me pushing on the brakes earlier than planned. “I’m with company.”
A snippet of conceitedness prickles goose bumps on Emerson’s nape.
I squash them like a bug after recalling the last words she spoke to me.
I don’t like you.
“But I can lose her for a few hours if you have something in mind.”
Zoya gasps before talking at a million miles an hour. “Mikhail Marshmallow Man Dokovic, you’re playing with fire.”
“So?”
I’m not worried. Emerson looks set to crush my nuts with her teeth, but for some fucked-up reason, I am more excited by the prospect than scared.
Emerson isn’t just good in bed.
She’s fucking dynamite.
I’ve not met a woman with her level of stamina, and I never will.
Zoya continues to push. “Do you know what happens when a marshmallow gets too close to a fire?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. She squeals in my ear, “ He turns into a soft, gooey mess.”
Red-hot heat races across Emerson’s face when I reply, “As I’ve told you previously, my heart is the only soft and gooey thing about me, sweetheart. The rest is hard and thumping.”
I’m dead in all meanings of the word. Not just from the death stare Emerson hits me with, but also from the growl of my brother, who would kill, and has killed, a man with allergies for sniffing too close to his wife.
I just scribbled my name at the top of Andrik’s hit list.
“Say goodbye to Mikhail, милая .” Andrik’s tone is controlled, almost reserved—until he adds, “Permanently.”
I laugh like I’m not a dead man before trying to save face.
It is two seconds after Emerson throws open the SUV’s door and hightails it to the entrance full of employees I have no clue what to do with.
I’ve lived alone since the day Emerson left me high and dry.
I hate sleeping in a house full of bodies, especially when I don’t know any of them.
After watching Emerson enter our marital home at the speed of a rocket, I say, “Give me until tomorrow afternoon before showing up at my door. I’m sure there will be something left to pick from my carcass.”
Andrik growls, but that is the start and end of his reprimand.
Zoya isn’t as eager to let bygones be bygones. “This would be a lot easier if you told her you’re doing this for her instead of yourself, Marshmallow Man.”
I pfft her as if she is stupid.
It couldn’t be further from the truth. Her smarts are undeniable when she says, “You still love her, Mikhail. The sooner you accept that, the easier it will be for all involved.”
“She left me, not the other way around. My feelings don’t matter.”
“Are you sure about that?” Zoya snaps out just as fast, her emotions just as heavy.
I lose the chance to clarify which response she’s seeking clarification on when Andrik repeats his earlier request. “Say goodbye to Mikhail, милая .”
He adds a handful more words to the end of his reply. But since I want to sleep at some stage tonight, I’ll keep them out of my mouth.
Sometimes the worst nightmares form from words.
Mine started with three.
She isn’t coming.
After tossing my cell onto the console in front of me, I rake my fingers through my hair. I’m tired as fuck, frustrated, and hard enough to drill for gold.
I didn’t lie when I said fighting was foreplay for Emerson and me. We fought as often as we fucked, which was a record-high tally for two teens with no privacy.
But it’s different now.
The pain is real.
The feeling of betrayal is real.
The way she looks at me like she hates me is real.
I fucking hate the latter more than anything.
With my lungs replenished and my mind forced into lockdown mode, I slip out the back of the SUV and head in the direction Emerson fled.
I’ve been to this estate before. It was a long time ago.
You lose interest in returning to the place that caused enough abuse to fill a family album with pictures of your numerous hospital stays once you reach your formative years.
This estate was one of my grandfather’s favorites. The reminder has me again lost as to why he would gift it to me. I wasn’t his favorite grandson. He hated us all the same.
If he thinks this is his free pass to heaven, I have news for him.
Soulless men only travel one way when they die.
Straight to hell.
“No. Thank you. I’m fine.” I repeat my three short sentences multiple times while moving through the many bodies lined up outside the palatial mansion.
They stare at me as if I’m royalty and they’re here to obey my every whim.
If the lusty gleams of the barely clothed women at the side of the den are anything to go by, that’s the sole task of their job description.
Prostitution is as rife in politics as it is in bratva entities. The titles of the women selling their bodies are just altered to make them seem less dubious.
After shrugging out of my jacket, I scan the numerous bodies throughout the mansion, seeking a familiar face. Kolya will be here somewhere. He was my grandfather’s chief of staff, and even after his boss’s death, he remains his number one right-hand man.
Haunting me appears to have been my grandfather’s dying wish, and Kolya is the best man to help him achieve that.
He’s been a thorn in my ass for over two decades, and I can’t wait to see the back of him.
I just need to wait until the end of Inga’s treatment since that term added new provisions to the inheritance terms.
I find Kolya near the west entrance, drinking a pricy bourbon. Although my first thoughts should be on the multiple business objectives I set aside today, I let my heart speak for the first time in years. “Emerson?”
It might have been different if I hadn’t received a text from Kolya minutes before taking Emmy, the plane, up for the first time.
Igna’s inclusion into the immunotherapy trial is the sole reason Emerson entered the plane I’d purchased for her. But at the time, I wanted to pretend it was more than that.
For an hour, I wanted to pretend she didn’t break my heart.
Our truce didn’t even last ten minutes.
As I pfft , Kolya places down his whiskey before spinning to face me. “I had Loretta show Mrs. Dokovic to her room.”
“Which is?” I ask, straying my eyes across the numerous doors on the second level.
This mansion has over thirty sleeping quarters, and there are too many bodies for me to detect one.
Well, that’s what my head is telling my cock.
I stop looking in the direction I sense Emerson is in when Kolya answers, “The primary suite, of course.” His pitch peaks during his following sentence.
“This is your home now, so the owner’s wing was prepared for your arrival.
” He attempts to catch me in a lie in front of an audience.
“Unless you’d like me to arrange alternative accommodations for you?
The east wing has a beautiful vista of the?—”
I lose the utmost devotion of many eyes when I interrupt. “The owner’s wing is fine.”
If anyone not involved in the disbursement of my grandfather’s estate discovers my marriage is fraudulent, the entire inheritance will be forfeited, including any payments already made.
I can handle bounced checks. I am wealthy in my own right. But Inga’s inclusion in the trial treatment wasn’t solely about money. The name on her admissions paperwork and the fact that only the elite get access to healthcare that should be available to all are the real issues.
In layman’s terms, if a Dokovic hadn’t supported Inga’s application, the head research professor wouldn’t have received it.
With a submissive dip of his chin, Kolya says, “I’ve made reservations at Cortots, the number one steak restaurant in the country. It has?—”
“Cancel any reservations for this evening before asking Chef to prepare something. Have his selections brought to our room.” With my lips still tingling in the aftermath of Emerson’s stance, I add, “Make sure he is aware of my nut allergy.”
Again, Kolya’s head bobs. “Of course.”
When unease flares through his eyes, I ask, “What is it?”
“It’s nothing,” he brushes off, waving his hand.