Page 17 of Darkest Craving

WOLFGANG

I lie awake next to a sleeping Victoria curled at my side. Her round ass peeks from underneath my sheets, and if tonight hadn’t been her first time, I’d be snaking between her legs again just to hear her moan in my ear.

Her pain shouldn’t matter to me, not really. But I’m going to want her more when she wakes up tomorrow, and it won’t be the same if she’s too sore to feel me.

Which makes me wonder… why the fuck am I still in bed with her? I know damn well when I’m up at this hour, I won’t be able to fall asleep no matter what. I’ve been dealing with insomnia for far too long to forget it.

Thankfully, my phone vibrates on my nightstand, and when I pick it up, I stand. It’s Ivan. And I bet he’s texting to tell me whether the move on the Irish territory worked or failed.

I unlock my phone and read the short string of messages.

I: all clear

I: small problem

I: boss texted me about it

I: what do I tell him?

Fuck . If Father messaged him directly to get an update, he must be fuming right now. And it doesn’t take a genius to know it’s because of the scene I caused in the church.

Since I didn’t meet with him again after the ceremony, I guess this is his indirect way of making sure I know.

I shoot Ivan a text, telling him to stay put, and slip on a t-shirt and pants. Victoria stirs a little from the noise, but otherwise remains asleep. Good.

Out into the hallway, I lock the door behind me, just in case someone goes in when I’m not there. I’m not going to take any risks with my wife sleeping naked under my sheets.

When I step into the other wing, the lights are off, but the smoke wafting in the air tells me Father is here. And when the sound of glasses clinking together breaks the silence, it tells me he’s already spotted me.

“I don’t appreciate you going behind my back to my guy when you know damn well I was going to update you in the morning.”

His arm extends out into the moonlight, an empty glass of whiskey in his hand. “Maybe I should fire your guy, then. Seems he forgot who he’s really working for.”

I step toward him. “Ivan works for me. I’m paying him with my own money, lest you forgot.”

“Sit down, Wolfgang.”

Whiskey trickles from the bottle into the two glasses, one finger deep.

“Congratulations,” Father says, handing me a glass. I’m tempted to leave him hanging, but I find myself taking it anyway. “Your plan is well on the way. You got the girl.”

“And next, I’ll get the money. What are you getting at?”

“Can’t a father congratulate his son on his wedding night?”

I roll my eyes, and he chuckles.

“You know,” he says, before taking a sip of his drink. “For someone with an IQ of a genius, even you didn’t see this coming. And you’re usually the one who sees things the rest of us don’t.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

He points a finger in my direction, his voice taking a serious tone. “You know what you did today, Wolfgang.”

I lean forward in my seat, pinning him down with my gaze. “I killed a man for disrespecting us. It’s what we do. It’s what you taught us.”

“No. You killed a man because you let your feelings get in the way.”

“Excuse me?”

“What? You’re going to sit there and pretend you weren’t balls-deep in her cunt just moments ago? Come on, son. Honesty has always been one of your strongest suits.”

Fire licks at my veins, threatening to burst out through my fists. My nostrils flare, pulling in the air forcefully, leaving just the same. Father and I have had our disagreements over the years, but what he’s suggesting now…

“You’re out of fucking line,” I tell him. “What I did or did not do with my wife is none of your business. And it changes nothing about the plan.”

He sighs. “I could’ve shot every single one of the Romanovs in the head the moment I found out about their betrayal. But it was you who convinced me not to do it. You said…”

“That this was going to put us in a much better position. Yes, I remember what I fucking said.”

“Then you also remember what’s at stake.”

My throne.

I keep my gaze trained on his.

“You know that if you fail this, Mikhail will jump at the opportunity to get ahead. And Katy will support him. And as much as I want to let you have it, I won’t break this family apart. What would be the point of that?”

What would be the point? What would be the point ?

This fucking family is already doomed. It has been ever since my mother died, and he knows it. He should’ve divorced Ekaterina the moment he saw her true colors, but instead, he chose to turn a blind eye.

He chose to let her do whatever she wanted, even if that meant breaking me every chance she got. He fucking owes me, and he knows it. But even so, what he’s really saying is he won’t butt heads with his wife and other son for me.

“Look. I know how hard it’s been for you growing up without your mother…”

“Do not bring her into this,” I say through clenched teeth.

“I fucking loved her too!” he shouts, his voice bouncing between the walls.

Silence.

Then after a while, he clears his throat.

“What I mean to say is that I know you had to fight a lot of battles. With Mikhail. With Katy. It wasn’t easy, and I am sorry for that. But… if you want your throne, if you want them to see you as part of this family, you’re going to have to come to your senses. And do what needs to be done.”

I nod and get up. Not to agree with him, but with the thought that he’s being an asshole.

“For your information, the Irish territory has been secured. And my plan worked so well I barely had to lift a finger to get it done. So the next time you accuse me of messing things up, I suggest you have a look at the facts instead of consulting your vivid imagination. Because the truth is… I’ve been steering this ship for far longer than you’d like to admit.

Me . Not you. And if I don’t get what I want, I promise you, you’ll be sinking faster than the fucking Titanic. ”

Father gets up and faces me, downing the rest of his whiskey.

Placing his glass next to mine, his eyes rise. “Good. Then we want the same thing. So get. It. Done.”

VICTORIA

The bed is cold and empty beside me, the absence pressing against my skin before I even open my eyes. Still lying down, I glance around the room, letting the morning light brush the sleep from my eyes. I’m really alone.

But when I get up on my elbows and push the sheets aside, a gust of Wolfgang’s scent wafts over to me.

And the memory of every touch from last night comes back, sending butterflies to my sore pussy.

“Oh my God,” I mumble, sitting upright, rubbing my face with my palms.

After he made me come again in the shower, he carried me back to bed and did it again with his fingers.

I almost asked him to stop because I didn’t think I could take another orgasm. But I guess the adrenaline kept me going until, eventually, I fell asleep in his bed. The bed I bled on, now that I look at it.

I stand up and pull the ruined sheets off until they’re all crumbled in my arms.

What if someone sees? What if the housekeeper finds it first?

I don’t know what the hell to do with them, but I can’t let anyone know what he did to me. I’d die of embarrassment. So I trudge into the bathroom, looking for a laundry basket where I can dump them. And finding none.

I do, however, notice all my toiletries in here, on two designated shelves, making my new reality even more real. Ugh! How am I supposed to feel about this? I’m married to him now, and we had sex. No, scratch that. We fucked .

He fucked me, and I enjoyed it so much I begged, moaned for him. Came all over his cock, just like he wanted.

What the hell is wrong with me? How could I feel that way, knowing what he took away from me?

I want to feel ashamed, but the ugly truth is, I don’t. Because every time I see something that belongs to him—his shampoo, the shower cap he pressed to my pussy last night, and the wedding ring on my finger—it makes my heart flutter as if I’m back in high school, developing my first crush.

It’s stupid, and it can’t be happening. I know it can’t.

So instead of continuing to think about how I wish I’d woken up next to him instead of alone, I brush my teeth, hop in the shower, and get ready for the day after leaving the sheets in a corner on the bathroom floor.

Just like my toiletries, someone brought the clothes from the other bedroom. I fasten the last strap on my sandal when the door swings open and my thoughts vanish.

Corinne’s face greets me with a smile.

“Good morning, Mrs. Rykov,” she says, walking deeper into the room.

Mrs. Rykov. She means… me.

“It’s Victoria.”

She opens the windows and the curtains, inviting the day in, then comes back to make the bed.

I hold my breath, thinking she’ll ask me about the sheets, but she just takes off the pillow cases as if she doesn’t see anything missing.

“Mr. Rykov is already downstairs if you would like to join him for breakfast.”

“I… You mean I can go out of the room by myself?”

She chuckles. “Of course you can. This is your home too, now.”

As if. Still, the fact that I can wander off on my own brings hope to my chest.

“Okay. But Corinne…” I say, feeling the heat return to my cheeks.

“Yes?”

“The bed sheets…”

She hugs the pillowcases at her chest and throws me a knowing smile.

“Don’t worry about it, Victoria. No one else will see. And… you did what you had to do.”

I did what I wanted to do, but of course, I don’t tell her that. Instead, I thank her and head downstairs, eager to explore and find the breakfast table by myself. And to see him again , a small voice says from the back of my mind, which I try to silence as best I can.

The house is eerily quiet as I make my way through the halls, my sandals tapping against the polished floors. I walk with caution, not knowing where I’m going or who I might see. I don’t even know everyone who lives here.

A feeling of unease floats around me, almost as if it’s telling me to turn back around. I try to brush it off, because I don’t want to be stuck in a room anymore.

But minutes later, when I see a figure staring back at me at the end of the hallway, I realize that feeling was my intuition. And I should’ve listened to it.

It’s Wolfgang’s father.

He looks like he was going somewhere, but he halted there just to see me.

I stop, too, not knowing how to react. All I know is the hairs on the back of my neck are standing up. I want him gone—his cold eyes fucking terrify me.

They linger on me for what feels like forever, and I stand unmoving, watching him analyze me.

I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until after he disappears, and all the air in my lungs leaves me fully.

By the time I figure out where the dining room is, I’m still a little bit rattled.

A faint murmur of cutlery and movement guides me toward a large open doorway, and when I step inside, the scent of fresh coffee and buttered toast fills the air.

And then I see him.

My husband sits at a large dining table, his broad shoulders relaxed as he looks down at his phone and sips his coffee, his biceps flexing deliciously when he brings the cup to his mouth. The mouth that licked my pussy like it was starved.

Jesus, Victoria. Get a fucking hold of yourself.

But the sight of him sends heat curling through my core—until he finally glances up, and his golden eyes lock onto mine.

“It’s Sunday. Ever heard of sleeping in?” I say.

Approaching the table, I drag a chair out for myself and take a seat. Almost immediately, another housekeeper brings coffee, placing it in front of me.

“Thank you.”

I wait, watching my husband, expecting some kind of sarcastic or arrogant remark, as always.

But Wolfgang says nothing.

The warmth in my chest falters, and nerves swarm in my belly, but I push past the feeling. Maybe he just didn’t hear me. Leaving out a sigh, I pour milk into my coffee and stir.

“I guess you’re not a morning person after all.”

Still, nothing.

I put my teaspoon down and look at him, the realization slowly dawning on me, twisting my insides and making my stomach churn with unease.

He heard me alright. He’s just choosing to ignore me.

“I’m talking to you,” I snap.

“And I’m trying to enjoy the only spare moment of my day in silence. What can I do for you, Victoria?”

What can he… what can he do for me?

The question slaps me in the face like a big ‘fuck you,’ showing me just how little he cares about what happened between us.

My throat swells with pain, but I swallow it back down, hellbent on not letting him see through me.

“Ah, I get it,” I say, keeping my tone amused. “You’re one of those men—the kind who go all ghost mode the morning after. Not very original.”

“We fucked, Victoria. Did you expect me to fall in love with you?”

“Did you expect me to care if you did?”

He gulps the rest of his coffee. “Oh, believe me, love, when it comes to you, I have no expectations. Now, let’s not make this awkward. Eat your breakfast quietly or find somewhere else to be.”

I blink, truly taken aback by his change of attitude. He used to mock me, tease me, banter with me. But he was never mean to me. Not even when I stabbed him.

Maybe this has been his plan all along. To get my guard down around him… then treat me like shit, just so he can break another thing in me.

And if that’s true, I fell right into his trap like a goddamn idiot.

“You’re a fucking asshole,” I tell him, trying my damnedest to keep from crying.

He stands up, tucking his phone away. “But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

Then he turns his back to me and walks away, and when my first tear rolls down my cheek, I let it.

A moment later, the only thing that makes me wipe it away is the sound of heels clicking against the floor.

“Men can be so cruel sometimes, can’t they?” a woman’s voice approaches. “But my step-son… Well, he’s on a completely different level. Hello, Victoria. It’s lovely to finally meet you.”