Page 22

TWENTY-ONE

Vlad

L eaving Inessa to storm after me, I go to the bar set up in the lounge and get ahead with my drinking. Between her tantrums and my brothers’, the only mature person in this fucking house is a child. Said child pokes his head around the corner with the immature fuck Vitali copying him as Inessa flings her bag on the floor.

I wonder if I could get an IV with the highest proof liquor pumped straight in my veins. It would be easier to deal with everyone’s moods. Taking another sip, she stands in front of me with her hands on her hips full of rage. Somewhere along the line she has become immune to my threats, and she doesn’t flinch at my stare.

Before she can open her mouth and openly disrespect me, I grab her arm, pulling her behind me into the office. Her lips part and I hold my hand up, kicking the door closed. Once we’re alone, sealed away from other ears that are probably going to be pressed against the fucking door, I become her audience and lean against the edge of my desk.

The anger infuses her words, and she looks disgusted at her own thoughts.

“You’re old enough to be my father, for fuck’s sake.”

I know she’s thinking of the legal sense, but my mind tapers off at how close she is. Choosing to go with honesty and her own thought pattern, I try to get her to calm the fuck down.

“It’s not my actual age. I’m thirty-eight.”

Someone must have invented some technology that can mute people, man have landed on the fucking moon, but I’m stuck on earth with her mouth and attitude. I could drill through my ears and have peace.

She stops me looking for ways to maim myself as she scoffs. She looks away and crosses her arms over her chest with that filthy mouth opening

“Yeah okay, you old fuck.”

My laugh is dry, and I curl my fingers around the desk to stop from choking her.

“Watch your mouth.”

Snapping her head towards me, she tests the little patience I possess and takes two steps to stand in front of me.

“You even sound like an old man. Watch your mouth, do what I say. It’s not the 1500s anymore, Grandpa.”

I wish it was, I’d be in a fucking village and could tell my wife I’m going to sell a cow and get the fuck away from her for a couple of weeks. Falsifying my age so my brothers could move to the States with me has bitten me in the ass. I have to wait until the princess stops raging to try to fucking explain, which is the equivalent of standing in a lion’s cage hoping it turns into a cat.

Covering her mouth to stop any more shit leaving, she glares up at me and I can finally speak without her interruption.

“I was seventeen when we came to New York. Valya was seven and Vitya was six.” The glare softens and I stroke her cheek with my thumb continuing, “Getting papers that said I was ten years older made sure they stayed with me and not some fucking prick. Is that good enough for you to shut the fuck up?”

Any headway I made to get her to calm down is obliterated by the end.

My fingers are slowly peeled away from her skin one by one. She holds her fingers up as she issues more fucking rules.

“Firstly, that’s sweet and you could have just told me. Secondly, don’t ever tell me to shut the fuck up. Third, ring your bank and tell them you acted like a dickhead, so there’s going to be extra spending until I forget.”

This fucking woman. I’m not a saint but there’s no planet where I deserve this form of punishment. Her mouth and her mind are a wicked combination, add her fucking stubbornness into it and she’s driving me crazy. We might not even make it to the wedding if she continues because every day I fight the urge to rip her tongue out or kill her.

Gold strands fly over her shoulder as she spins on her heel ready to try to bankrupt me. I hook my hand over her neck and pull her back into my chest. My other wraps around her middle holding her arms at her sides as I give my list.

“First, don’t ever call me sweet. Second, you need to be told when to stop running your mouth. Third, what the fuck are you buying? There are no packages being delivered and your clothes are the same.”

She’s put more than a dent in the balance of that particular account, it resembles a crater and just like a crater it’s empty because she hasn’t actually purchased anything. If she’s on some Robin Hood mission to give all my money to the poor she better fucking stop.

She sinks into me and leans back looking over her shoulder. Fuck me, she’s beautiful when she shuts up. Ruining her beauty with her mouth, Inessa speaks slowly and infuses false joy into the words to be a fucking brat.

“You are my cutie, my little sweetie pie.”

The over-exaggerated pout has my fingers tightening around her neck, but my palm doesn’t press into her windpipe as she coos, “Kto maya lapooshychka?”

She looks proud of herself. It would be cute if she wasn’t driving me insane.

She goes back to anger hearing my plan as I muse out loud, “I’m buying you a ball gag.”

Twisting a hand behind her back, she cups my dick and moves further down until she’s cradling my balls and tries to be a vixen.

“You have two right here.”

My laugh is more air than sound as I let her neck go and lift her hair away from her face. My lips brush the shell of her ear as I ignore the lust burning through me and confirm what we both need to know.

“They’ll stay attached to my body, not in your purse.”

Flattening my palm on her sternum, my thumb presses between her tits, but I don’t look down. It’s in my periphery and my control is a single thread ready to snap at any moment. The only thing keeping the fibers together is knowing she hasn’t used anything to fix her problem. I won’t fuck her like a crazed idiot and then struggle to get back in. A man has to have clear lines on what he’s willing to do, forcing myself inside her body is the only one I have.She won’t get pregnant through rape, and I refuse to endure more of her mouth than necessary.

It’s hypocritical but I don’t give a fuck. I’ve tortured women and felt nothing, they got themselves in a position where it was required, and they won’t receive any sympathy from me. They don’t deserve protection due to not having a dick or whatever other bullshit society tells them. My brothers think I’m a piece of shit for thinking that but I’m fair, I couldn’t give a fuck about anyone on this planet, and it will never change. But there’s nothing that could justify violating Inessa in that way, there’s no reason for it and it’s weak as fuck to have an opponent that can’t fight back.

Trying to goad me into acting, she squeezes my dick and turns to face me. Her eyes are huge as her other hand travels up my chest and curls around my shoulder.

“Are you scared that I’ll laugh at your dick? It’s okay if you’re small, you can’t have everything.”

She calls me the devil, but she’s Lilith. The act falters as she feels me harden and her eyes go wide. Pulling her closer, she chases my lips as I lean forward, keeping my voice low.

“I don’t need to shout about the size of my dick because I’m not an insecure boy. When you’re done groping me, I’ll return the favor.”

That’s another weakness, needing to beat my chest or scream from the rooftops that I can fuck is just loudly proclaiming the opposite. The loudest voice in the room is both the weakest and their biggest insecurity. One thing my bride doesn’t understand with her constant demands that I stay, it shows her weakness.

She fakes confidence, and it doesn’t reach her vocal cords as her heart is racing against my chest.

“Size doesn’t mean anything when you don’t know how to use it.”

Holding her chin between my thumb and finger when she tries to look away, I taunt her knowing her other weakness.

“How would you know, meelaya?”

She licks her lips as she moves closer and there’s a gleam in her eye showing she’s going to be a brat.

“I have a 100% success rate, no faked orgasms. You can’t say the same.”

I know she’s talking about her own hand, but acid coats my tongue at anyone touching her.

I have something that’s only mine, she doesn’t belong to anyone else. Inessa barely fucking belongs to me and it’s a fight to get her to listen. That doesn’t mean shit, the insignia on my cufflinks is healing on her finger and she acts the part in public.For all intents and purposes, she is mine and she will be treated as such. I wouldn’t allow someone to take my fucking shoes, never mind my wife.

The acidic taste intensifies as I spit back.

“I’ll call a parade in front of you for judgment on my success rate.”

Hurt flashes across her features, she quickly masks it as she holds my dick harder in threat, but it’s not painful.

“Try it and I’ll do the same. It won’t be random fucking bitches off the street, I’ll go through each of your men in this fucking office.”

Gripping her throat, I pull her hand off me and hold it behind her back. There’s no backtracking, the crazy thing doubles down with a joke.

“Or they’ll go through me, you get what I mean.”

My voice is deadly, and she smiles at it letting her own psychotic behavior out.

“You had your chance and kept your legs closed, that is how they will fucking stay.”

It’s not warm but twisted and Inessa ignores my hand around her throat, pressing into my hold, she raises one eyebrow and tries to use shit against me.

“You share with your brothers; everyone has heard the stories.”

The rumors work in my favor to keep everyone the fuck away from us. I don’t know where that particular one started and I’m not some fucking pervert that I will ever think about what my brothers are fucking. As long as it’s not each other, they can do what the fuck they want now that they can’t get one of the Conglomerate’s women to fall in love with them for an alliance. It’s not a gotcha moment, there’s something she’s missing, and I add the caveat.

“Not my wife.”

There are only two weeks left until the wedding, but she’s been branded as mine and no one will fucking touch her thinking they can take from me.

Blinking slowly, she just stares at me. She softens with each blink and smiles like I’ve given her the moon as she declares innocently, “I think we’ll be friends.”

The only thing that could possibly make Inessa innocent is being a virgin, but she’s found a way to turn that into a dirty game and I don’t believe the shit leaving her mouth any more than she does.

“Friends?” I ask bewildered.

She nods and there’s no deception in her answer.

“Yeah, when this is all over I don’t want my child being hurt by arguing. A broken home isn’t always divorced parents, it’s disrespect and using an innocent child as a game of tug of war.”

Even if I was nearly fifty like my papers show, her maturity floors me. I don’t mention the clause she’s clearly missed regarding signing her rights away the minute we’re divorced and let her have the moment. Stroking her neck with my thumb, it’s like an off switch for her mouth and I take in her features.

“You’re stunning when you shut up.”

It slips out without meaning to and she takes offense, pushing at my shoulder and twisting away from me. My fuck up has the beauty leaving, and she latches on to the age jokes speaking slowly and loudly.

“I... have... to... go... now... old... man.”

She flashes a dazzling smile as she turn and tries to hide her laugh as she bursts out of the office. She doesn’t lower her voice as she brings her audience into the pantomime my life has become.

“Give him apple sauce and make sure he doesn’t fall. Broken hips are a problem with the older generation.”

Valentin’s smirk comes above her head as he nods, listening to her command.Viktor is looking up at her with a wide smile as though he’s meeting his idol and Vitali is stood on his crutches looking between the two of us.

I’m sure I was cursed at birth. A witch put a fucking hex on me, so I’d never know peace. I rub my temple as two sets of footsteps and the crutches clicking move closer indicating more theatrics. Even Viktor is struggling to hold his usual scowl. The little traitor. Vitali’s limping form doesn’t dim his dumbass excitement or his approval.

“I like her, I always wanted a sister, and it looks like she’ll turn you into one.”

There’s no tantrum as the other two agree and I mark this moment as the beginning of losing control of my own fucking family.

Vitali stays on babysitting duty despite Viktor being the grown up reminding him to do his therapy and Valentin lingers waiting for them to leave. He doesn’t bitch, since seeing proof of the reason I’m doing this shit in the youngest of us limping he’s calmed down with the dramatics. Making himself useful, he asks for something not many people have the spine to and fewer would be considered on my part.

“Promise me you won’t take it too far.”

It’s not needed when I would give them anything they want. They even had the option not to follow into the Bratva considering they rejected their Russian roots while they were in school and took on the Americanized shortening of their names with everyone other than me.

Nodding my head because the only people worth my word are under this roof, he pulls his phone out showing me a picture of a little girl. She’s younger than Viktor and there’s a split second where I contemplate killing him for the first time in his life before he speaks, clearing his name.

“Who does she look like?”

I don’t make it a habit to look at children, the dark web forums have altered the way my brain views the images, so I never pick up any details or I’d become a psycho killing everyone in my path.

Taking his phone, I look for any familiarity, and my brows come together when it hits.

“She’s Kadare’s granddaughter, not by blood. I saw her when I was dropping Inessa off at Steorra and I checked it out, her birth parents aren’t registered but it’s him. Even without DNA she’s his fucking double.”

My voice is low as I check that the door is closed and look back to the device.

“Is she Viktor’s sister?”

Leno’s features are obvious and that fucking slimy rat disappears before we can ever trap him. I know my brother wants to kill him for his part in how his son came into this earth, but I have my own reasons for keeping him alive.

Valentin is rarely quiet, or hesitant, and he drops down into the seat opposite me as he scrubs a hand over his head. His face contorts, and he avoids my eyes as he says, “That bitch isn’t his fucking mother, whatever else fell out of her cunt has nothing to do with my son.”

I pass his phone back and shrug.

“You fucked her, it should have been something you thought about. But if she is his sister, that makes her doubly ours. Go change the records to show that cunt is our bloodline.”

He nods and drags his ass to the door. Pausing before he opens it, he turns to me, looking like a child.

“You won’t hurt a kid, right?”

He doesn’t allow me to answer and shakes his head, gaining more strength.

“She might grow up to be a cunt like him, but we’re nothing like Anika or Len, so you’ll let her decide?”

I nod once and he relaxes smiling to himself.

“Yeah, thought so,” he reaffirms his thoughts.