Page 11

The opulent space was filled with impeccably dressed societal elites, their soft hum of conversations mingling with the subtle clinking of glasses. The sweet scent of champagne and canapés wafted through the air and the chandelier lights cast warm glows over the guests.

I stood beside my husband, a plastic smile perched on my face as he conversed with a small group of business partners. The stares on me—glaring and hidden—were a bit too much to bear. Deep down, I wished that the ground would just open and swallow me.

I was Erik Tarasov's wife, not the Queen of England. So, why the unnecessary attention?

Everywhere I turned, I'd meet a pair of eyes glued to my face, and as time went by, I began to feel uneasy. Honestly, I was in desperate need of an escape from this dull environment or some fresh air at least.

My chest rose and fell slowly, and my breathing grew heavier with each passing minute. I felt suffocated by the presence of these people, and their insincere smiles turned my stomach. Yes, I wore one as well, but it was merely a facade to conceal my distaste for many of the guests.

They were all hypocrites—every single one of them. Members of rival political parties greeted each other with warm handshakes and bright smiles. Meanwhile, we all knew how much they despised one another.

Almost everyone in this gathering had an ax to grind with at least one other person. But we all sipped champagne, talking and laughing like good friends.

Bloody hypocrites!

Erik's soft, deep chuckle snapped me back to reality. His strong arms wrapped around mine, his fingers grazing my skin. His eyes were fixed on his associates, sipping from his glass as he listened to them.

I shot a quick glance at him just in time to catch a rare grin on his face. His lips twitched at the corners, his sharp green eyes crinkling at the corners. His touch was smooth against my skin, a faint sparkle igniting within me.

In my head, his voice echoed, the memory of his words sending shivers down my spine. “Are you aware that you make it impossible to resist you?”

I recalled the effect of his breath brushing against my neck, the sensation that jolted through my body when his palms caressed my arms. His touch, soft and tender, made my fingertips tingle and my heart skip a beat.

His confession about how hard it was to stay away from me had caused my core to tremble. At that moment, I let myself delve into the thoughts of having him inside me, and to my shock, it seemed like something I'd enjoy.

I wanted to despise him—I claimed that I did. But his touch always made me realize just how wrong I was. If I loathed him as much as I thought, then his touch should repulse me, and I shouldn't be able to entertain any funny ideas about being intimate with him. However, the exact opposite was the case.

His little actions and small gestures were the tools he used to slowly break down the walls I had built around my heart. He was creeping in, slithering his way through my system like a poison—deadly with a touch of sweetness.

“Are you alright?” Erik's voice pierced through my thoughts.

I blinked, getting a hold of myself, my eyes meeting his gaze in a fleeting moment. It was now that I realized his associates had all dematerialized, spread out across the hall. “Yeah, uh…I'm okay,” I said, my voice soft and smooth, trying to sound convincing.

His eyes squinted ever so slightly, never leaving mine, and we held each other's gazes for a while. This was an opportunity to look deep into his eyes and search for closure—anything at all to help me understand him. But as usual, I found nothing new; I couldn't get a read on him.

His eyes bore into mine, and then I saw it in a flash—a spark of passion flickering in their depths. My breathing steadied for a moment as I caught a glimpse of his expression softening slightly.

The air was thick with tension, and I couldn't deny how drawn I was to him. It was like there was a magnetic force pulling me to him, and the more I resisted, the faster my heart raced.

What was happening to me? A flame ignited in me, spreading heat waves across my body as I stood transfixed, rooted on the spot. Those green eyes were enchanting, captivating, and I couldn't bring myself to look away. But when I eventually did, my gaze dropped to his lips—all chiseled perfection—making me wonder what it would be like to feel them on mine.

Erik's suit was a work of art, a masterpiece of tailoring that accentuated his broad shoulders and powerful physique. His dark hair, as always, was styled to perfection, neatly combed with not a single strand out of place.

“Tessa?” A familiar female voice called my attention, saving me from the intensity of the moment.

My brows arched, a broad smile spreading across my face as I set eyes on the speaker. Her curvy, plus-size frame was accentuated by the stunning red dress that hugged in the right places. Her blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders like a river of gold, and her fair skin seemed to simmer in the lights.

A chuckle escaped my lips, mirroring the pleasant surprise on my face. “Ravyn?”

She glided over to me, her heels against the fine floor, her arms spread wide open. “Oh, my God, I wasn't expecting to see you here.” She slipped into my embrace, her warmth enveloping me.

“Yeah, me, neither,” I replied, my voice laced with the same enthusiasm in hers.

We let go, each one smiling broadly, eyes locked together in a moment of excitement.

“What're you doing here?” we asked in unison, our tones rising in perfect sync.

Silence fell between us for about two seconds before we chorused, “Jinx.” Then, we added, “Jinx again!”

I felt lighter than a feather as I laughed wholeheartedly, my tension and anxiety fading away.

Ravyn and I used to do this a lot back in high school. We used to be so in sync that we mastered the art of finishing each other's sentences. Back then, it was like no one else knew us better than the two of us.

That was how close we were until life happened, and we drifted apart. I hadn't seen her in forever until last year when we met at a gathering like this one.

“Hello, Erik,” Ravyn greeted him with a warm smile.

“Ravyn,” he replied, mirroring her gesture with a courteous nod.

Confusion set in, and my eyes squinted. I shifted my gaze across the two of them, puzzled by their air of familiarity. “You two know each other?” I asked.

“Yes. He's my husband's brother,” she answered, retaining her smile.

“Your husband's….” My voice trailed off as I struggled to understand what exactly was going on.

Lev Tarasov approached us, his presence commanding attention. He tucked his phone into his pocket and wrapped his arm around Ravyn's waist.

Wait, what? I thought, unable to find my voice.

“Good evening, Tessa. I see you've met my wife.” His lips curled into a smile, his palm brushing over her arm.

Ravyn's cheeks flushed, and her eyes sparkled with mirth before a flicker of confusion flashed across her face. “Wait, you know Tessa O'Brian?” She looked at her husband, curious.

“Actually, it's Tessa Tarasov now,” Erik chipped in, his possessive arm around my waist.

Rayvn's eyes widened slowly, and her brows jerked up in surprise. “No way!”

“Yes, way!” I mirrored her tone, except with a little less enthusiasm.

She faced her husband, her voice laced with excitement. “I swear, I didn't realize the Tessa you were talking about was my friend. What a small world. Am I right?”

Ravyn seemed different from the last time I saw her. She seemed happier and maybe even more fulfilled now. But the biggest shock was the fact that she was married to a Tarasov.

Although her husband, Lev, was just as cruel and ruthless as mine, she somehow managed to find love and peace. How did she do that? The way Lev looked at her, the way he smiled at her, made me realize that their love wasn't one-sided.

I remembered when I’d warned Ravyn about going after Lev the last time we met. I explained to her what kind of man he was and the reputation that preceded him. However, it was a good thing she didn't listen to me. She wouldn't be this happy if she had.

In my marriage, would I ever find the same happiness? Was there hope for me, too?

“Okay, I'm afraid you two will have to excuse us.” Ravyn's voice pulled me back to reality. “We have a lot to discuss.” She took my hand. “Come on, Tess, let's step outside for some fresh air.” She waved and winked at her husband as she led the way.

I flashed a faint smile at Erik before following up behind Ravyn.

Several people lingered in the garden tonight, some gathered in small groups, while others sat on the benches. The fresh scent of blooming flowers filled the air as we walked beneath the cold, distant stars and the moon's ethereal glow.

“So, how does it feel being a Tarasov wife?” I asked, beginning the conversation.

Ravyn stopped in her tracks and faced me, her lips curling into a smile that made her eyes sparkle.

“Forget I asked,” I added, my voice soft and teasing as her wide grin revealed the answer I already knew.

“No, no,” she said, her eyes fixed on me as if trying to find something.

And I guess she did because I watched as solemnity slowly crept into her face.

“It can be hard at first,” she said, her voice gentle as wind. “Trust me, you might even regret it—the Tarasov brothers can be….”

“Monsters?” I finished her statement, raising an eyebrow.

“I was going to say ‘strict,’ but I guess that'll do,” she said, her lips parting into a brief smile.

I lowered my head and rubbed my eyes, plagued with a thousand thoughts running through my mind.

“Hey.” She reached out and took my hand, her touch warm and comforting. “It may not seem like it now, but trust me, as a woman who's been part of the family longer than you, it will get better.” She raised her finger and gazed into my eyes. “I promise.”

“How can you be so sure?” I asked, my voice cracking under the weight of my situation.

“Because, Tess, I've lived it—I've experienced it. At some point, I ran away for five years.” She chuckled, watching me intently.

“What?” My brows arched in shock, my eyes widening.

“Yeah,” she said softly, nodding her head, amusement flickering in her gaze. “See, the Tarasov brothers are easy to hate and despise because of the life that they live. But if you scratch the surface, you'll find a side of them you never thought existed.”

As she spoke, my heartbeat became steadier by the second. It was as though her words had made the weight of this marriage a little lighter.

“Do you know why you think you're not happy?” she asked and didn't wait for me to reply. “It's because you don't think it'll work. And because your mind already believes that notion, you're failing to grasp the possibility of a better man than the monster you married.”

She had a point. Indeed, I'd refused to see another version of him even though a part of me was already aware of what his little gestures hinted at.

“They're not as terrible as you think— he's not as terrible as you think.” She gently squeezed against my fingers. “Their world, however…that's a dangerous place to live, and you'll have to be careful.” Her tone was laced with a hint of solemnity, like she'd experienced something firsthand.

My heart skipped a beat, but I managed to squeeze out a faint grin. “Thank you, Ravie.” I embraced her.

“Anytime, Tess.” She rubbed her palm over my back before pulling away to add, “If you ever need anything, I'm just a phone call away.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” I said, holding her gaze, retaining my smile.

Her phone rang in her purse, and a grin lit up her face. “Speaking of phone calls.” She reached into her purse and withdrew the buzzing device. “I’ll have to take this. See you back inside?”

“Of course,” I replied, watching her leave, chattering and laughing with the person on the other line.

I wished we had more time. I would have asked her so many questions, like how to manage my business while still being a Tarasov wife. But I guess that would have to wait.

As I turned around to leave, I accidentally bumped into a huge figure, and our bodies jolted from the impact.

“Sorry. I didn't see you there,” said a familiar voice, thick and husky.

I raised my head and met his gaze, a smile playing on his lips.

“Good evening, Tessa,” Connor greeted me warmly, his calm demeanor hinting that he'd intentionally bumped into me.

“It's Mrs. Tarasov now,” I said, my voice flat and devoid of emotion.

The intensity of my gaze caused his smile to falter, gradually fading away.

“That's what you all wanted, isn't it?” I continued, feeling my frustrations returning. “You, my dad, my mom, and my brother. You all decided to sell me off, and for what? The good of the family?”

A glint of guilt flashed across his face as he stepped forward. “It's not like that, Tessa,” he said, his tone calm but defensive.

“Then how is it, Connor, hmm?” I demanded, my shoulders jerked in question. “Tell me, I'm listening.”

He went silent for a moment, unable to defend himself. I'd been pissed off at him for never even trying to intervene when the negotiations were being made.

“You always stood up for me, Connor, even when no one else would. But the one time I needed you to do that the most, you didn't,” I spat, my voice dripping with emotion, my heart aching at his nonchalance, his betrayal. “Why didn't you stop them? Why did you just sit back and let them sell me off to save the family business—you know my dad listens. You could've talked him out of it.”

I'd kept this inside for so long, but the reason for my frustration was because he’d broken my heart. I felt betrayed by Connor's silence about the matter and the fact that I'd never get to be with him.

“It pains me, too, Tessa,” he confessed, reaching out to hold my hand—a gesture he'd never done before. “But we didn't have a choice. There was no other way.” He drew closer, his eyes never leaving mine and his expression soft. “My loyalty is first to your family—to the prosperity of the Irish.” He paused, as if letting his words sink in. “If there was another way out of our problem, I swear to you, I never would have let this happen.”

My chest heaved slowly, my frustration gradually dissipating as he pulled me to himself. The hug was brief, and his arms only hovered around my body, never really touching my skin. He was cautious of his actions, and I respected that. My husband, though…? Not so much.

“Get your hands off my wife.” Erik's voice, laced with disdain and venom, cut through the air like a bloody knife.

I pulled away from Connor, my heart racing in my chest. Not because I’d done something wrong but because my husband seemed upset.

Erik stepped forward, his brows furrowing and creasing his forehead. His eyes were blazing red, and a scary scowl settled on his face. His intense gaze shifted across Connor and me, and his fingers clenched into fists.

Despite the fear that stole my breath, I had to summon the courage not to falter at his intimidating glare.

He drew closer to Connor, jaw tightening, and his gaze was intense enough to make an ordinary man shit their pants. But Conner neither moved nor flinched.

Erik began, his voice cold and deadly, “If you ever… ever hold my wife like that again, they'll never find your body. Do you understand?”

His words were spoken with a deliberate slowness that sent shivers down my own core.

Connor's face contorted into a frown, his jaw clenching at the threat. But he knew better than to engage, no matter how embarrassed he felt.

“Come on. We're leaving,” Erik said to me without taking his eyes off Conor.

His tone had left no room for debate, and the next thing I knew, he grabbed my wrist, leading me to the car.

I sat in silence, riding shotgun as he drove us home. His eyes were fixed on the road, and his fury was still simmering beneath the surface. For the past ten minutes, the only sound that filled the car's cabin was the soft hum of the engine.

Then, he broke the silence, his voice low and malicious. “Do you like him—Connor Donnelly?”

I steeled myself, tightening my jaw as I glanced in his direction. “I used to, so what?” was my response, laced with a hint of arrogance. “I had a life before you came along and ruined everything for me,” I dared to blurt out, immediately regretting my words.

Without turning to look at me, he gritted his teeth, his grip tightening around the steering wheel as his foot slammed on the accelerator.

The force pressed my back against the seat, and my hand reached out to the dashboard for support. My body stiffened, and my heart raced as fast as the speeding car, whose speedometer needle was climbing into triple digits.

“Erik, slow down,” I muttered, cold sweat dampening my forehead.

My eyes widened as the city blurred past me in a dizzying whirl. I felt trapped in a Fast and Furious movie, except this was real life.

I swallowed hard, my heart sinking into my stomach. “Erik, please, slow down,” I pleaded, my eyes misting as I wondered if this would be my end.

I should have just shut my bloody mouth. Now, look where I found myself.

Maybe he didn't know this, but I had tachophobia—an irrational fear of speed. I closed my eyes tightly, my heart feeling like it was about to explode from my chest. My breathing was ragged and difficult to catch, and I thought that I would die from this terror.

“Please, stop the car.” My voice trembled, hot tears streaming from my closed eyes.

The engine roared on as though my pleas had fallen on deaf ears.

“STOPPP!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

The car screeched to an abrupt halt, and I figured that he must have gotten the message.

I opened my eyes, wiping my tears, and my whole body trembled from the fear of God he'd instilled in me.

“I didn't mean to scare you,” he said, his voice low, laced with a gleaner of apology. “Look at me,” he added, facing me.

I couldn't risk pissing him off again, and so I did as he instructed, my eyes meeting his soft expression.

“You're my wife, Tessa,” he began, his voice tinged with jealousy. “Seeing you in that position with another man…it did something to me.”

I sniffled, looking into his apologetic eyes. “Why would it? You don't even care about me. You don't feel anything for me.” I watched his lips twitch as though he was groping for the right words to express him.

He swiped a palm across his mouth and said, his voice deep and husky, “You're mine now, Tessa.” The possessiveness in his tone couldn't be any more glaring. “You belong to me.”

“I'm not some property that you can own, Erik,” I shot back, a scowl settling on my face. “I'm my own woman.”

His eyes roamed around my body as if appreciating my contours. “Not with me, you're not,” he said, his tone dripping with pride and possessiveness.

I held his gaze, my fury slowly dissolving as the air around us transformed into something more sensual. I felt a tingling sensation in my fingertips and also between my legs.

He stared into my eyes, refusing to look away until I broke the staring contest, unable to stand his intimidating gaze.

I couldn't deny the emotional attraction between us—the flame he'd ignited within me.

Now, I was left to wonder why I was so drawn to him.