Page 11

My heart races as Denis's large hand envelops mine, our fingers intertwined as we stand waiting at the exit. The kiss we shared moments ago still burns on my lips, sending tingles down my spine. I can't help but sneak glances at him, admiring his chiseled jawline and the way his tuxedo hugs his muscular frame.

Denis looks left and right impatiently, his gray eyes with those mesmerizing green flecks scanning for our ride. When he catches me staring, the corner of his mouth quirks up in a smirk that makes my knees weak.

"See something you like?" he purrs, his deep voice sending shivers through me.

I blush and bite my lip, unsure how to respond to his teasing. Luckily, I'm saved by the arrival of our car.

Denis barks an order at the driver. "Follow in the convoy. I'll drive."

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Since when does he himself?

He opens the passenger door for me, his hand on my lower back guiding me in. That simple touch ignites a furious fire within me. As I slide into the leather seat, my dress rides up slightly, exposing some of my leg. Denis's eyes darken as they roam over my body.

Once inside, he guns the engine and peels out of the driveway. The speed thrills me, matching the racing of my pulse. To distract myself from the tension crackling between us, I reach for the radio.

Suddenly, Denis grabs my hand. I gasp as he places it on the gear shift, covering it with his own. His hand dwarfs mine, rough and calloused. I can't tear my eyes away from the sight—my softer, smaller hand engulfed by his strong one.

"Denis," I breathe, unsure what I even want to say.

He turns to me, eyes smoldering with desire. Slowly, he lifts my hand and gives it a kiss before placing it back on my lap. But before he returns to driving, he gives my thigh a firm squeeze that makes me squirm in my seat.

"We’ll be home soon," he promises in a husky whisper. "Very soon."

***

We screech to a halt in front of the mansion, and Denis is out of the car in a flash. He yanks open my door, practically lifting me out. I stumble, my legs shaky from how fucking turned on I was during the ride and my unquenchable desire.

"The car—" I start to say, glancing back at the still-running vehicle.

"My men will handle it," Denis growls, his arm snaking around my waist. God, he holds me so hard and so close, and it feels so damn good. He guides me swiftly up the elevator to his penthouse and through the grand foyer. My heart pounds as we climb the stairs to his study.

Once inside, he shuts the door with a decisive click. The sound makes me jump.

"Drink?" he asks, already moving toward the bar.

Is he seriously wasting time right now?

I shake my head. "No, I—"

But before I can finish, Denis is on me. His lips crash against mine, fierce and demanding. I melt into him, my hands fisting in his shirt as he walks me backward. My spine hits the edge of his desk.

"Natalia," he breathes against my mouth. "You drive me crazy."

In one fluid motion, he sweeps the items off his desk. Pens and papers, amidst heavier things clatter and bang to the floor. He lifts me onto the now-clear surface, his large hands gripping my waist.

"Is this okay?" he asks, fingers toying with my zipper.

I nod frantically. "Yes, God yes."

The dress falls to my waist as he unzips it. Denis pulls back, his gaze roaming over the curve of my neckline, down to my breasts, to my crossed legs on the edge of the desk. I shiver under the intensity of his stare and feel worried I’m not enough in comparison to the bevy of beauties at the parties he attends.

"You're beautiful," he murmurs, reverence in his voice, putting an end to my dark thoughts.

I reach for him, needing to feel his skin against mine. "Denis, please—"

I gasp as Denis's lips find my neck, trailing hot kisses down to my collarbone. His hands roam down my sides from the edge of my breasts to the curves of my waist, leaving tingles in their wake. I feel exposed, vulnerable, but the way he looks at me—like I'm the most precious thing he's ever seen—chases away any insecurity.

"You're perfect," he breathes against my skin, his fingers ghosting over the swell of my breasts.

I arch into his touch, craving more. "Denis, I need—"

"Shh," he soothes, sliding one hand up my inner thigh. "I've got you."

His fingers slip beneath the edge of my panties, and I moan at the contact. Denis uses his other hand to cradle the back of my neck, gently lowering me onto the desk. His weight presses against me, solid and reassuring.

"Is this okay?" he asks, eyes searching mine.

I nod frantically. "More than okay. Please, don't stop."

A wicked grin spreads across his face. "As you wish, moya koroleva ." My queen.

My breath catches as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of my panties, slowly sliding them down my legs. The cool air hitting my heated skin makes me tremble like a leaf.

I need him to move faster.

"Denis, can you—oh!"

My question turns into a gasp of pleasure as he lowers his head between my thighs. His tongue slides across my slit, and my world narrows to the sensation. His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as he works me with his mouth.

"Fuck," I breathe, tangling my fingers in his hair.

Every swipe of his tongue, every brush of his fingers sends sparks of pleasure coursing through me. I'm drowning in sensation, lost in the feel of him.

He squeezes into my hips with his nails, pulling my body closer to his body.

“Fuck,” I moan, closing my eyes and throwing my head back. I feel one hand glide between my thighs, and the next thing I know, he stops.

“Why?” I ask, disappointed with the pause, when suddenly I feel his cold finger glide into me.

He then shows me that patience can be rewarded by dipping his tongue into my folds with his finger working in tandem and drawing circles around my clit with his mouth before withdrawing it again.

“Can you,” I ask in a hoarse voice, “go faster please?”

“Well,” he pulls his mouth away and curves his finger till it hits that sweet spot against the wall just beneath my clit, “since you said please.”

And then, he hits that spot with his finger, over and over again, his mouth once again on my clit.

The tension coils tighter within me as Denis picks up his pace. My hips rock against his mouth, chasing the building pressure.

"Oh god, Denis," I pant. "I'm so close."

He hums against me, the vibration sending shockwaves through my body. One of his hands slides up to my breast, kneading gently.

"That's it," he murmurs. "Let go for me."

His words push me over the edge. I cry out as waves of pleasure crash over me, my body trembling beneath his touch. Denis doesn't let up, working me through my orgasm until I'm gasping and oversensitive.

When he finally pulls away, I'm breathless and spent. But as I look at him, taking in his disheveled hair and the hunger in his eyes, I realize this isn't enough. I want more.

I push myself up, sliding off the desk. Denis watches me intently as I move toward him, his gaze burning with desire. My fingers find his belt buckle, and I look up at him through my lashes.

"My turn," I say, my voice husky.

His eyes widen slightly as I sink to my knees in front of him. I maintain eye contact as I slowly unbuckle his belt, and then unzip his trousers. Denis's breath hitches when I hook my fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling everything down in one smooth motion.

I lick my lips, drinking in the sight of him. "Is this okay?" I ask, echoing his earlier question.

Denis nods, his voice rough. "More than okay, Natalia. Please…"

I wrap my hand around him, marveling at how hard he is already. As I stroke him, he grows even harder, a low groan escaping his lips. The sound sends a thrill through me, and I lean forward, taking him into my mouth.

Denis's hips jerk slightly as I swirl my tongue around him. "My god," he breathes, his hand coming to rest on the back of my head.

I look up at him through my lashes, loving the way his eyes darken with pleasure. Slowly, I take him deeper, hollowing my cheeks as I move. His fingers tangle in my hair, gathering it into a makeshift ponytail.

"Natalia," he moans, gently guiding me. "Just like that."

I hum in response, the vibration making him shudder. He's pushing deeper now, nearing the back of my throat, and I relax, wanting to take all of him.

Suddenly, a shrill ring cuts through the air. I pause, glancing up at Denis questioningly. He shakes his head, stroking my cheek with his free hand.

"Ignore it," he says, voice rough with desire.

But the phone rings again, insistent. Denis frowns, reluctantly pulling away. "What now…?" he mutters, reaching for his phone.

I rise to my feet, disappointment coursing through me as Denis answers the call. His expression darkens as he listens, and I catch snippets of the conversation.

"…trouble at the docks… need you to handle it… be quick to dispose…"

Denis's jaw clenches. "I'll be there," he says tersely before hanging up.

He turns to me, regret clear in his eyes as he gently caresses my face. "I'm sorry, Natalia. There's a problem I need to take care of,” he says.

My heart sinks, but I force a small smile. "It's okay. I understand." I fumble with my dress, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable.

I watch him put on and straighten his clothes and a nagging worry settles in my stomach. What kind of "problem" requires his immediate attention? And why do I have a feeling it's something I might not want to know about?

After he leaves, a cold realization washes over me. "The problem to be dispatched" isn't just business—it's likely code for something far more sinister. Something involving violence, maybe even… killing.

The thought jolts me out of my lingering arousal like a bucket of ice water. What am I doing? How could I let myself get swept up in the moment, forgetting who Denis really is?

I wrap my arms around myself, shivering. "You can't give in to someone like him," I whisper, trying to convince myself. But the memory of his touch, his kisses, lingers traitorously on my skin.

For a brief moment there tonight, I forgot all about what I wanted, and gave in to my traitorous body. Not again. I cannot allow myself to get close to a violent man, who will only end up disappointing me with yet another kill on his hands.

***

The next morning, I find that Denis never came home last night. For some strange reason, I’m relieved to have the house to myself. I don’t want to see him quite as yet, and I certainly don’t wish to explain why last night can’t happen again.

By that afternoon, I'm curled up with a book and sipping a coffee on the couch when I’m startled by a knock at the door. To my surprise, I open it to find it's Sofia, my sister.

"Sofia!" I exclaim, pulling her into a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” she steps in and walks past me, chucking her purse on a chair before flopping down on a couch. “I’ve been thinking about you and wanted to see how you’re doing. How is married life treating you?”

Memories from last night rush in, along with all the pain of knowing who my husband truly is. I want to talk about anything but Denis and my relationship. “Married life is going okay so far,” I say and quickly change the topic. "Where were you and Vladimir last night by the way? I didn't see you at the charity event."

Sofia rolls her eyes dramatically. "Ugh, don't remind me. We were stuck in Milan. Some last-minute 'business' Vladimir had to attend to." She air-quotes the word 'business,' and in that moment, I know she knows the darker implications behind such innocuous terms.

"How was the event?" she asks, flopping onto the couch. "Did I miss anything exciting?"

I hesitate, memories of Denis's heated glances and that one, mind-shatterin g kiss flashing through my mind. "Oh, you know," I say lightly, "just the usual schmoozing and champagne."

Sofia narrows her eyes, clearly not buying it. "Spill, little sister. What aren't you telling me?"

I bite my lip, debating how much to reveal. Sofia has always been the tougher one, the sister who seemed to adapt effortlessly to this world. Taking a deep breath, I decide to be honest.

"Sofia, how do you… handle all of this?" I gesture vaguely around us. "The Bratva life, the secrets, being married to Vladimir… all of it?"

Sofia's playful expression softens. She reaches out, taking my hand. "Oh, Natalia. It's not easy, is it?"

I shake my head, feeling tears prick in my eyes.

"Look," Sofia says, her voice gentle but firm. "We were born into this world. It's in our blood, whether we like it or not. I handle it because I have to. Because there's no way I'm leaving our family to face the dangers alone."

"But the violence, the illegal activities…" I trail off, thinking of Denis rushing off to 'handle a problem.'

Sofia's grip on my hand tightens. "I know it seems black and white, but it's not. There are far worse Bratva groups out there, Natalia. Groups that would do unspeakable things if left unchecked. In a way, it's up to families like ours to keep them in line."

I blink, surprised by this perspective. "You really believe that?"

"I do," Sofia nods. "It doesn't make everything right, but it helps me sleep at night. Like this one time, we learned of a group that was involved in supplying weapons to terrorists who planned to blow up a mall. If Vladimir hadn’t stepped in then…”

The more I listen to my brave, incredible sister show me our world in a fresh light, the more I find my walls weaken.

As Sofia leaves that evening after an early dinner, her words echo in my mind. I find myself pacing, glancing at the clock every few minutes. Denis still hasn't returned. Despite everything, worry gnaws at my stomach. What if something happened to him? What if he's hurt?

I collapse onto the bed, burying my face in my hands. How did I go from seeing Denis as the enemy to… this? Whatever this feeling is, it terrifies me. Because deep down, I know Sofia's right. This world, for better or worse, is a part of me, too. I was born in it, and I can’t just abandon the people who put their lives at stake to keep me safe. Including Denis.