Page 8 of Prince of Control (Bratva Heirs #1)

Chapter Four

Lara

It’s still dark when I wake, and for a moment, I don’t know where I am. Then it all rushes back to me with a sick feeling.

I’m in the United States. In the bedroom of the man I’m supposed to marry.

My eyes fly open, and I scan the bed. Is he in here–with me? The jetlag made me crash last night, so I slept like the dead until now, when my body decided it was time to be awake. I never heard Benjamin come in, if he did.

I hold my breath and listen, but I can’t tell if I’m alone. I reach for where I left my phone plugged in beside the bed. A paper slides beneath it. A paper that wasn’t there when I went to bed.

I hit a button on my phone, which shows me it’s four in the morning here. No wonder I’m up–it’s long past the time I’d be awake in Paris. The paper under my phone is a printout of my class schedule.

Because that’s not intrusive. Not at all.

I mean, it is helpful, but there’s also something creepy and controlling.

Did Benjamin move my phone, too? Was he trying to check my messages?

Well, good luck with that–I have screen lock.

I use the light of the screen to shine over the bed, and my pulse speeds up the moment I detect the large form on the other end of the bed.

At least he gave me space. I was half-afraid last night that he’d try something.

I look back at my phone. There are a slew of messages. Two phone messages from my mom.

I haven’t called her since my dad showed up. I don’t know whether or not I’m mad at her. It sounded like this was all my dad’s doing. Either way, I’m not ready to talk to her. If she’s as upset as I am, that’s only going to make me break down.

There’s a string of texts from Brash, the Russian guy I had a few dates with before I left Paris.

He’s the son of a rich oligarch. I found him to be full of himself, but despite his self-absorption, he took an interest in me.

I don’t know if it’s because I’m Russian, and he feels a certain connection with me over French women or what.

Anyway, he was a gentleman on our dates–attentive but not too pushy.

A kiss at the door but no pressure for sex.

We had a date scheduled for last night that I didn’t even remember to cancel.

Oops.

Knowing his ego, he’s going to be put out.

Not that it matters. It hits me square in the chest. I’m not going back there. My life in Paris is over. My internship and future job possibilities just died. I’m getting married today.

I open the texts and wince. Apparently, he went to my place, waited a half an hour and left. Then texted a couple more times asking if I was okay.

I text back in Russian:

I’m very sorry I forgot to cancel our date. I was on a plane to the U.S.

In a crazy turn of events, I found out I have to marry an American. (I’m not joking).

I won’t be back to Paris, and I can’t see you again.

The large form on the other side of the bed jerks awake, and Benjamin sits up, one hand reaching for his bedstand, like he’s going for a gun.

My husband is jumpy when we wakes. Good to know.

I flip the phone, screen down, so he won’t see the light, but Benjamin turns to look at me, scrubbing a hand across his face.

“Jet lag has you up early, huh?” His voice is a deep, sleepy rumble. It’s sexy. Or maybe it’s just finding myself in bed with a man that makes my nipples tighten.

I twist to look over my shoulder at him, allowing the light to shine again.

Oh, damn. His sandy blond hair is loosely tousled and hanging over his forehead. He’s not wearing a shirt, and the muscles of his chest stand out in glorious relief. Is he naked?

Wait–why am I even wondering that? Gospodi, is he, though? Did he come to bed with me last night naked?

Or did he have the decency to wear his underwear? And what kind of underwear does he wear? The small, tight kind? Or boxer shorts?

Gah. Again, why am I picturing him in his underwear right now?

My phone rings.

I glance down. It’s Brash calling.

Blin , I swear internally. He’s usually more of a texter. I definitely don’t want to have a conversation with him right now. Especially not while I’m in bed with my fiancé.

I hit the decline button and catch Benjamin’s gaze on the screen of my phone.

“Who was that?” His tone is casual, like we’re a long-married couple who shares these kinds of things. Like we know and care about the same people. Like we know each other.

“None of your business.”

It’s probably too early in the morning to pick fights with my soon-to-be husband, but I need to establish boundaries. I still don't understand why I’m here or what he wants with me, but I know it can’t be for any good reason.

In a flash, I find myself pinned on my back with Benjamin rolled on top of me. Turns out, he is wearing boxers, but through the fabric, I feel his hardening cock nudge between my legs.

I’m instantly wet, my body responding to his dominance. To his closeness. He smells clean, like soap and his own unique man-scent.

“Oh, malyshka ,” he chides, looking down at me with glittering eyes. His hands manacle my wrists, pinning them to the bed beside my head. “You’re my wife.” Our gazes lock. His is so intense, I swear he can see into my soul. “Everything about you is my business.”

I turn my face to the side to break eye contact as he continues, “...from the kind of birth control you use to how you take your coffee in the morning.” He lowers his lips, like he’s going to kiss the side of my neck.

My heart pounds. Birth control I use? Gospodi! Is he planning on getting me pregnant? Is that what this is about?

And–am I going to let him seduce me like this?

No. No way. I can’t. Not even if he does look like a Greek Adonis. Not even if my body responds to him like he owns it.

“Don’t.”

He instantly freezes, his mouth so close to my skin I feel his warm breath. He hovers there a moment, then eases off me, rolling away and releasing me.

I’m one part relieved, one part disappointed.

I’m happy to know I have agency over my body. That he’ll stop when I say no. Or at least he did this time.

But my body mourns the loss of his heat against my skin. The fact that I won’t find out how it feels to have his mouth on my flesh. And I’ll never know what he planned to do after that kiss.

Not that I think he was following a plan.

His dominance felt instinctual, which would be a huge turn-on if we were dating. If I weren’t his prisoner.

“How do you take your coffee in the morning?”

I’m stunned at how quickly he switches from intense to casual. Like we didn’t just have a moment where our hearts were beating together as his body covered mine.

I force an equally casual tone. “ Cafe au lait .”

He starts to roll out of bed then pauses to ask, “Are you getting up now, or are you going to try to fall back to sleep?”

I swing my legs over the side of the mattress. “No, I’m up.”

I don’t look, but I’m intensely aware of him pulling on his pants behind me. The stranger I shared a bed with last night is getting dressed. Every cell in my body is aware of his nearness. The state of half-dress both of us are in.

“I’ll make that coffee, and then I can show you around campus before your first class.”

It sounds so thoughtful. It is thoughtful. I just don’t trust him or any of it.

Still, I don’t have the slightest clue where to go or how to get around this campus, and I’m not so full of pride to refuse help when it will make my life easier.

“Okay,” I agree, stepping into the large walk-in closet and clicking on a light. For a reason I don’t care to examine, I don’t shut the door behind me to give myself privacy as I dress. As I slip off my sleep shorts, I would swear the sounds of Benjamin getting dressed stop.

Is he watching me?

Do I want him to watch me?

I guess I must, or I would’ve shut the door. That’s crazy.

I mean, he is attractive. I wouldn’t have said he’s my type, but I know why I respond to him. He carries the same confidence and edge of danger as my dad. My dad’s violence feels closer to the surface, but there’s something about both of them that makes people follow their leadership.

But screw that. I’m mad at my dad right now. I’m not going to admire some guy who’s as lethal as he is.

I pull on a skirt and turn to look over my shoulder.

Benjamin is staring openly at my ass.

“Like what you see?” I demand as I zip up the back.

“ Malyshka ,” he rumbles, scrubbing a hand across his jaw. “You have no idea.”

My nipples pucker, tenting the thin pajama top I’m wearing.

Benjamin’s gaze drops to them, noticing.

I despise the way we, as women raised in the patriarchy, have this sense of waiting to be chosen by a man, waiting to be found sexy, beautiful, whatever. That’s never been me. I know my worth. I’ve never needed or desired the validation of others, especially men. Still, I flush with satisfaction.

Benjamin wants me.

In fact, judging by the expression on his face, he’s downright hungry for me.

Well, I don’t hate that.

I give him my back again, but a tiny smile plays on my face as I take off my pajama top and put on a bra.

I may be here at the whim of the Baranovs, but I’m not completely powerless. There’s always the currency of sex. I don’t intend to use it, but it’s good to know it’s a tool in my pocket.

Baron

I hold the front door for Lara to step outside.

Dawn breaks across Whisper with the sky changing from black to gunmetal grey.

The sweet smell of grass fills the air. Campus is silent, and the air is still.

This is the time I usually take a run or go to target practice, but making my new bride comfortable is top priority today.

Lara brushes past me in a rust-colored pleated mini-skirt and a matching pair of soft leather boots that come up to her knees.

Her cream square-necked top perfectly frames her cleavage and hugs her tits, making her waist look tiny.

She smells of the coffee she just drank and some warm, butterscotch fragrance I want to lick off her.