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11

Yelena

The streets of Philadelphia are different from New York—they feel less rigid, less chaotic, and yet, there’s a rhythm to them that I find oddly comforting. I should hate it, this new city that isn’t mine, this home that doesn’t feel like home. But I don’t. I know that if I’m going to thrive in this marriage, then I’ll have to carve out my own space in it.

I spend the morning shopping, exploring, and getting a feel of how the city works. I walk into a designer shop, ignoring the feeling that there are eyes on me. I’m selecting an emerald-green Valentino dress when a voice, sharp and venomous, cuts through the air behind me.

"That color is beautiful. But Aithan prefers red on me."

I don’t turn immediately. Instead, I take my time inspecting the fabric between my fingers, exuding nothing but calm indifference. Preys are the ones who react first. They always try to scurry in the face of perceived danger, and I refuse to give this woman that satisfaction.

“I am talking to you, Xéni.”

I do not understand the word, but judging from her condescending tone, I could tell she had just insulted me. Finally, I glance over my shoulder.

A blonde with honey-highlighted hair and bold, smug eyes stands a few feet away, her arms crossed, weight shifted onto one hip like she owns the space. Her designer heels scream expensive, but the way she’s looking at me? Cheap.

I arch a brow. "Do I know you?"

She smirks. "I’m Bella." She pauses, letting the name hang in the air, expecting me to react.

I don’t.

Her smirk tightens. "Aithan’s girlfriend."

Now, I turn fully, and I can’t stop the small, amused smile that curves my lips. "Oh?"

Bella’s head tilts, and her voice lowers, as if we’re sharing a secret. "I thought I’d introduce myself since we’re going to be… sharing."

I blink, then laugh softly, shaking my head. Sharing .

Bella misreads my reaction entirely, mistaking my amusement for nervousness.

"I get it," she continues, playing faux-sympathy like she’s doing me a favor. "You’re the Bratva princess, and Aithan needed to marry you for the alliance. He’s with you for business, but with me? It’s different."

I watch her in silence, letting her dig her own grave.

She steps closer, lowering her voice like she’s whispering something conspiratorial. "You can play the wife, but when he really wants someone? When he needs to take a break and relax?" She gives a delicate shrug, her smirk widening. "He comes to me."

A slow, dangerous heat is building inside me, coiling tight in my chest.

"Poor thing," Bella purrs, looking at me like I’m some clueless girl who doesn’t know what’s happening in her own marriage. "You really thought Aithan would want you?" She sighs, as if this pains her to say. "But don’t worry—I’ll take care of him when you’re too busy playing the dutiful wife."

The audacity of this woman.

I fold my arms, matching her stance, but where she’s trying to look powerful, I don’t need to try. I already own every inch of space I stand in.

"I don’t banter words with other women over a man," I say coolly, letting my Russian accent caress each syllable. "But since you are so desperate for my attention, let me make something clear."

Bella raises a brow, amusement flickering in her eyes, as if she’s convinced she has the upper hand.

I step closer. My tone drops like velvet over steel.

"I do not share my men."

She blinks, taken aback by the quiet deadliness in my voice.

I smile, but there’s nothing soft about it. "So, Bella, get one thing straight, if you ever spread your legs for my husband again…" I pause, watching her smugness flicker into unease. "That will be the last thing you will be spreading. Because you will end up with an open skull."

Her mouth parts slightly, either in disbelief or fear.

I’m not done.

"In fact," I murmur, brushing an invisible piece of lint off my sleeve, making her wait for the next words, "the next time you so much as breathe the same air as me, I will have your head on a platter."

Silence.

For the first time, Bella looks genuinely unsettled.

She forces a chuckle, but it comes out tight, forced. "You think you can threaten me? That Aithan will let you—"

I laugh softly, shaking my head, before leaning in just slightly.

"Aithan does not control me," I whisper, letting my voice drip with the truth. "I am Bratva. I was raised in a world of wolves. You are nothing but a little dog begging for scraps."

She inhales sharply, and I know I’ve hit a nerve.

Bella blinks. Color drains from her face, but she quickly recovers, her lips curling into a sneer.

“You think you are something special, right?”

“No, I think you’re a little dog begging for scraps,” I repeat coolly. “And it is pathetic, really.”

That does it.

Bella swings her hand, aiming to slap me across the face.

Big mistake.

I see it coming before she even moves. I shift my weight, dodging her slap effortlessly, and before she can react, I slam my fist into her jaw.

A sharp, satisfying crack echoes through the boutique.

Bella stumbles backward, letting out a shriek as she clutches her face, eyes wide with shock and pain.

I step over her trembling form like she’s nothing but a mild inconvenience, adjusting my handbag over my shoulder.

I turn away, dismissing her without another glance. The conversation is over. Bella doesn’t exist to me anymore. She’s just another forgotten thing in a store full of luxuries.

The saleswoman, who has clearly been eavesdropping, quickly rushes over to finalize my purchases.

As I walk out, I don’t look back. I don’t need to. I already know Bella is standing there, seething, shaken, and completely put in her place.

And I haven’t even started yet.

Later that night, I stay up waiting for Aithan to come back. I try to tell myself that I do not care what he does with other women, but the more I convince myself, the more the images agitate me.

Finally, the door opens, and my dearest husband walks in. His golden eyes flick over me, assessing and sensing the storm brewing beneath my skin.

He loosens his tie, sighing. “What’s the matter, agápi mou ?”

“Your bedmate came to introduce herself to me today.”

“What are you talking about?”

I take slow, deliberate steps toward him, my voice dangerously soft. “Keep your bitches on a leash.”

Aithan’s brows furrow. “Excuse me?”

I glare at him. “I won’t be so kind to her next time.”

His expression sharpens instantly. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

I scoff, rolling my eyes. “Don’t play dumb, Aithan. A certain blonde with too much perfume and not enough dignity approached me today.”

His jaw tenses. “Bella.”

“Oh, so you do know her.” I smile mockingly. “Is she all there is, or should I expect more?”

Aithan rubs a hand down his face, exhaling harshly. “What did she say?”

“Oh, just the usual,” I say lightly. “That you’re only married to me for my last name. That she’s the one you really want. That while I play wife, you’ll still be in her bed.”

Aithan’s face darkens, rage flashing in his eyes. “She said that?”

“She did.” I tilt my head, my gaze locking onto his. “I want to know if should I believe her.”

His eyes burn into mine. “You think I’ve been sleeping around while I have a wife?”

I arch a brow. “Have you?”

Aithan steps closer, invading my space. “I may be a heartless monster, but I promised to respect you,” he says, voice low, rough, unyielding. “And Bella? She’s just a bitter ex.”

Then why haven’t you touched me since we got married?

I want to scream in his face for him to take me, but I hold on to the little pride left in me. Instead, I hold his gaze for a moment and before he can say anything else; I stride past him.

“Oh, and dear husband?” I turn back to him, my tone dripping with mock sweetness.

He turns, brows furrowed.

“Next time your ex thinks about approaching me, remind her—she won’t be walking away. She will be carried out in a body bag.”

I leave him standing there, the weight of my warning lingering in the air.