Page 22 of The Brutal Arrangement (The Ivanov Syndicate #2)

LUCY

M y body betrayed me.

Again.

And again.

For the next couple of weeks, Damon set up a predictable pattern for me to follow.

Isolated and left alone to be bored during the day.

Then fucked ten ways to hell at night.

Sometimes, he’d change it up where he was at home earlier, and he’d switch it up to take me hard then.

But it remained the same.

He was never gentle. Never sweet. It was always rough and hard as he stripped me and filled me with his big dick. He was always controlling and demanding.

And every time…

I sighed as I opened my eyes one morning.

Of course, I was alone in his bed. He was gone already, never staying for anything other than the physical fucking.

Last night, he’d taken me three times. Once with me tied up spread-eagle on his bed.

The second in the shower when he fucked my mouth then made me sit on the bench for two more orgasms. The third time, I passed out with him choking me as he pounded into me.

“This much sex can’t be normal, right?” I mumbled aloud, wincing as I felt the soreness between my legs.

My comparison with “normal” felt like a silly, nonsensical joke with myself.

Nothing about this was normal.

But I couldn’t deny how satisfied I was.

I had gone from being a virgin to totally owned by a man probably fifteen years older than me. My husband owned me by plying me with hard sex, and I couldn’t complain.

I winced as I realized I should be. I should be fighting him and protesting.

But when it felt like a complete relief to surrender to him, granted a chance not to think or plan or stay on top of the responsibility of taking care of my mom, I wanted to be greedy like that.

All my life, I’d been working so hard, so why couldn’t I enjoy this weird break?

“Oh, man.” I groaned as I sat up and headed into the bathroom. Marathons of orgasms weren’t for the faint-hearted, but as I cleaned and steamed in the shower, I couldn’t deny how contented I was to be taken care of like this.

I wasn’t sure I would enjoy it if he didn’t take charge.

And I wasn’t sure when I’d stopped wondering how temporary this would be.

Oh, come on, Luce. You can’t be this addicted to him. It’s just sex.

That thought sobered me, because it really was true. While he was blowing my mind with how well he could master me and make me submit every time, it was only something that bound us together in a physical sense.

I’d never really had a serious boyfriend, too busy being a good student and then being too busy working.

I hadn’t ever given myself a chance to find a lover.

This marriage had been an unexpected obligation. My husband was a new surprise for me to acclimate to while knowing I’d leave him eventually when Katerina said the coast was clear.

After I got dressed, I wondered if I’d want to leave. Giving up this sex life wouldn’t be easy. But so long as I knew my mother was cared for and the rest of the world wasn’t touching me as I stayed locked up in here…

No. Don’t even think that this is good or okay, Luce.

It was delusional to be swayed by a good time in the bed and forget that Damon was a brute. A hard man who never wanted to talk. A cold-hearted killer who seemed to have a big problem with wanting to make me come as many times as he could.

The next day, when I was on the main floor of the building and watching the birds out the window as they pecked at the food in the garden, a woman approached me from behind.

In the almost three weeks I’d been here, I hadn’t spoken to anyone other than that maid. Damon preferred me quiet, too.

So when this striking blonde came up to me with a smile on her lips, I was wondering what the catch was. “Lucy?”

I blinked, making sure she was speaking to me. “Yes?”

“I’m Sloane.” She offered me her hand to shake. I stood before I accepted it. “I’m Maxim’s fiancée.”

“Oh.” I blinked, surprised that he was engaged. Then I blinked again and huffed a laugh of astonishment that I was permitted to speak to her. “I didn’t know…. Um…”

She rolled her eyes. “You didn’t know that I existed?” she guessed. “Yeah. Maxim seemed to think that sequestering me in my room without any contact would end well too.”

I gaped at her, then narrowed my eyes. “Wait. What? Maxim…?”

“It’s in the past.” She waved her hands as if shooing the memory away. After, she settled her hands on her small baby bump. “Right now, we’re going to the salon.”

“Me?” I pointed at myself, lagging to catch up. “I’m going somewhere?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I told Maxim and Damon that you should be able to experience something other than hanging around here. Plus, the guards aren’t likely to hover as much if someone is in the back of the salon with me.”

I furrowed my brow, too suspicious of how friendly she was being.

It was almost as though she were trying too hard to welcome me.

Either she was just as lonely or she was trying to butter me up.

One way or another, I wasn’t quick to see her as an ally.

Being here as an Ivanov wife was far too confusing of an experience to really know how to perceive anyone I met.

And I hadn’t been allowed to meet anyone so far.

“Bullshit,” Maxim said as he strolled into the room.

“My men will always hover.” He pulled Sloane closer to kiss her.

She smiled against his lips as she melted against him, then sliding her hand through his hair, she held him closer so she could kiss him deeper.

Once he put his hands on her ass and pulled her flush to him, I looked away and hated the burn of a blush on my cheeks.

I felt ashamed to watch them kiss, something that seemed like a private moment of love. But more than that, I was shown how different it could be here.

Sloane looked happy . Not tense like I felt every second except when Damon was fucking me.

She was pregnant.

Maxim was sweet on her, kissing her and making her smile so freely.

I didn’t know where she’d been all this time, but the fact that I hadn’t seen her yet didn’t count for much. I was clearly designated as a need-to-know sort of “guest”.

When I looked back at them, finding them still together and kissing, I lowered my head and refused to give them an audience they might not want.

Maxim must have noticed me dropping my gaze, though, because he stepped back. Holding Sloane’s hand loosely, he kept her close, and it clued me in to how possessive he seemed to be. Having him notice me like that, when I had observed a sweet moment with his fiancée, made me feel more embarrassed.

No. It made me feel cheap.

Like a dismissed secret that shouldn’t be exposed.

All I had with Damon was hard sex. No conversations. Limited time together. I had tried to tell myself that I was learning about my husband. That communication wasn’t always verbal and that one of his intense looks meant something else.

Compared to what Sloane and Maxim had, I felt like I was nothing more than a cheap whore. The result of a barter.

“Ready to get out of here for a while?” Sloane asked, confident and cheerful as she swung her hand with Maxim’s.

I drew in a deep breath and hoped that my smile would pass. “Sure. That’d be nice.” As I stepped toward her, though, I hesitated. “Wait.”

She arched one brow. Maxim stared at me, curious.

“Um. I should ask…” God, I hated how pathetic I sounded. She was only engaged to an Ivanov brother while I was married to one. How did she get this confidence?

“I should ask Damon first,” I said.

Sloane shot Maxim a look that I couldn’t read.

“I need to check with him whether I’m allowed,” I added, mentally cringing at how powerless I sounded.

I’d never had to ask permission to do a simple thing like going to a salon.

I’d never had money for such a luxury, but I wasn’t about to make a mistake here.

It could cost my life. It could threaten my marriage, which would challenge the deal I’d made with Katerina about my mom.

“You’re fine,” Maxim said dryly.

I shook my head, determined to be obedient. I didn’t want Damon to have a single hint of a reason to think I wasn’t listening to his command. “I’d rather get permission first.”

“You have permission,” Maxim stated. “Damon wouldn’t press an issue with me telling you to go. I make all decisions here.”

Oh, whoa. I hadn’t realized that Maxim was the boss.

“So if Sloane wants to go to the salon with another woman for a change and not ‘a bunch of guys’, then I’m going to make that happen.”

“Oh.” I nodded, understanding that I had to obey Damon, but then also Maxim now. “Okay. Sure. Whatever you want.” I looked at Sloane and tried to smile again.

She furrowed her brow and sighed. “Yeah. You need some fresh air.”

I wasn’t aware that was allowed.

On the way to the salon, Sloane didn’t talk much.

Instead, she seemed happiest just looking out the window and watching the scenery blur by.

I didn’t mind it, either. I felt like an animal being let out of its cage, but in a weird and clinging way, I wanted the security of being back in that building.

I didn’t know all the rules about being in the Mafia, but I coveted the safety of being where I was expected.

No. You’re so addicted to sex now that you wanna be there in case Damon comes home.

I cringed, bemoaning the fact I had become so conditioned like Pavlov’s dog.

Once we arrived at the salon, Sloane became chattier. She didn’t exaggerate her enthusiasm for any conversation, but I got the impression that she was trying to get me to open up a little more than small talk. It wasn’t intrusive, but I wasn’t used to this.

The last time I thought I could befriend someone was when I got along with Katerina at her residence. And look how that turned out.

I couldn’t trust myself with the limited experiences of friendship I’d had. Sloane wasn’t a coworker I could shoot the shit with. She wasn’t a client of a house I was cleaning. And she wasn’t… an ally, either.

Something was really messed up in me to doubt everyone I met now. But after agreeing to a marriage into the Mafia, I supposed I’d just need to flounder my way through this. No matter what, I wasn’t ready to be vulnerable and accept a friendship from anyone yet.

While she asked for her “usual” with her hair, everything adjusted to avoid chemicals or anything that could interfere with her pregnancy, I lacked direction of what I could do.

As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, I wasn’t sure I even felt like myself anymore.

I had no easy contact with my mom, which was a blessing in some ways as she became less of the parent I knew and loved.

I had no job that defined me. And I’d gotten into this situation by pretending to be someone else.

“How about you go natural?” the stylist suggested as she looked at my roots that were starting to show.

The chestnut brown that I’d dyed my hair wasn’t going to last forever.

It was how I’d resembled Katerina so well.

She had slightly longer and thicker brown waves, but if I went back to my natural color and style?

I’d be a dirty blonde with straighter hair. Shorter, too, almost in a bob.

“You know what?” I nodded, almost excited about reclaiming “myself” again. “Why not?”

She smiled at me, perhaps excited for the project. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Maybe looking more like my old self would make me feel better about myself and my situation.

If I could look like the old me, maybe I could dismiss this tug on my heartstrings that I was married into a loveless situation.

If I tried to just be me , perhaps I could wake up and realize good sex was not the distraction I could allow as I navigated this marriage I wasn’t supposed to stay in.