Chapter 15

TORI

I wake tangled in sheets. Opening my eyes, I lean up on my elbows to find the spot beside me empty. I smile, flopping back down, remembering last night and all the ways in which Dmitry made me come, and in turn, how I rode him until he orgasmed.

I stretch out and groan, wondering if he’s gone to see the families again and if I’ll be spending another day alone.

I shower and dress in a bright red bikini. The last couple days in the sun have given me a golden glow, and I admire myself in the mirror. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt so comfortable in my own skin, enough to walk around half-naked with confidence. I place my hand over my small bump, feeling the fluttering of movement again. I can’t wait for the baby to be big enough that Dmitry will feel her kicks.

I head downstairs and pull open the fridge. I forced Marshall to drive me to a supermarket on our way back from dress shopping, and I picked up a variety of fresh fruits for breakfast.

I retrieve them, setting them out on the counter. Selecting some upbeat music on my phone, I connect it to the speakers inside the house, turning up the volume. I take a knife from the drawer and begin slicing into the melon, humming along to Katy Perry and occasionally shaking my backside.

Dmitry takes me by surprise, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. I let out a surprised yelp, laughing when he nuzzles into the crook of my neck. “Jesus, don’t do that,” I whisper. “You scared the crap out of me. Where have you been?”

“Running,” he replies, sucking the skin on my neck and gently nipping it between his teeth.

“Dmitry, it must be over thirty-degrees out there. Are you mental?”

His hands run over my backside. “You’re almost naked.”

“And you’re sweaty. Go and take a shower then come and eat some fruit.”

His hands slide up to my bikini top and he cups my breasts. “We could shower together.”

“I showered already.”

His hands go under the cups of the bikini to tease my nipples. I still my hands, closing my eyes and leaning my head back against him. “Oh god, why do you always get your own way?”

“Dmitry?” He releases me immediately, spinning to the sound of the voice while I make sure my bikini is in place.

“Alexandr?” Dmitry replies. “What a surprise.”

“I’ve booked golf for the afternoon.”

I inwardly groan, picking up my knife and chopping louder. “Actually, Alexandr, I have plans already.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Dmitry. Anastasia and the rest of the wives will take care of Victoria.” Dmitry feels me tense. “And then we will meet them later for dinner.”

“Okay, give me ten minutes,” says Dmitry, and I sag in annoyance.

Alexandr disappears. “Not a chance,” I say firmly before he’s had a chance to plead with me.

“It’s your role now,” he says, wincing.

“No, Dmitry.”

“Not even for me?”

I cry out dramatically. “This has been the worst holiday ever.”

He smirks, running a finger along my collar bone. “That’s not true, my krasota . Besides, it was a business trip.”

“And that business is sorted, right? So, can’t we just go home?” He pulls the cup of my bikini down, taking my breast in his mouth and sucking it in. “You’re not playing fair,” I whisper, running my fingers through his hair.

“You have been amazing lately,” he says, covering my breast and moving to the other to repeat the treatment. “And I promise, after today, I’ll spend an entire day by the pool, just the two of us, and then we’ll fly home.”

“Promise?”

“On my life.”

I groan. “Fine, but I am not happy about it.”

I spend almost half an hour searching for an appropriate outfit. Marshall waits patiently outside the room so I can show him each one. We eventually agree on a summer dress, and I keep my bikini underneath, just in case we have an impromptu pool party. I snigger to myself as we head downstairs. They don’t seem like the type to let loose and have fun.

I’m surprised to see the women have already gathered around the kitchen worktop, chopping the fruit I’d left unattended. When they spot me, they each take turns to approach me and hug me, kissing each of my cheeks in greeting. I frown, glancing back at Marshall, who is smirking, probably knowing how uncomfortable I feel right now.

“I’m Ania,” the first introduces. “My husband is Matvey, but there’s no point us all throwing our husband’s names at you, you’ll only forget. So, that’s Daria, Maria, Polina, Kira, and Anastasia.”

I give a small wave, feeling my anxiety in my throat choking me. I cross my arms and dig my nails into my flesh, trying to find some calm. As if Marshall senses it, he steps forward. “Tori?”

I bring my eyes to his and inhale sharply, suddenly remembering my role. “It’s lovely to meet you all,” I say, my own voice sounding foreign to me. “Can I get drinks?”

Ania laughs, shaking her head. “Please, we don’t bother with any of that bullshit when our husbands aren’t around. We can get our own drinks. Now, let’s sit by the pool and you can tell us everything.” She grabs me by the hand and begins to lead me outside. I glance back at Marshall, who’s smirking again. I narrow my eyes as he gives me a little wave.

“I got you non-alcoholic sparkling wine,” Ania goes on to say, pointing to a cool box by one of the sunbeds. “I know Dmitry will have fully stocked the bar,” she adds, pointing to the bar in the far corner, “but I bet he didn’t think ahead.”

I smile weakly as she drops my hand and points to one of the beds. I lower onto it, Ania takes the one beside me, and the other women seat themselves, a few chatting quietly to one another, leaving me under the curious gaze of Ania and Daria.

“We’re the younger wives,” whispers Daria. “And we’re so glad you’re going to join our circle. Lord knows we need younger blood.”

“The others are lovely, but they don’t gossip,” adds Ania.

“And we want to know everything,” says Daria eagerly. She removes her shirt, revealing a stunning white bikini.

Ania removes her top too, so I quickly whip off my dress and lay my arms to my sides, hoping to hide my scars.

“There’s not much to tell,” I mutter, shrugging.

“Are you kidding me?” screeches Ania. “Dmitry is the most eligible bachelor to ever exist.”

I force a smile. “Yes, he is.”

“And you’ve snagged him,” adds Daria, fixing me with wide eyes. “From that witch, Vivian, of all people.”

This time, I give a genuine smile. “You don’t like Vivian?”

“God, no. She’s a complete cow,” says Ania. “We were praying for a miracle, and then you came along.”

“So, how did you do it?” asks Daria. “Please tell me you punched her in the face.”

I laugh. “We’ve had our moments,” I admit, and she screeches in delight.

“Does she know about the baby?” asks Ania. “And the wedding?”

I nod, remembering back to being in that house alone with her while she ranted about it. “She didn’t take the news well.”

“She always hated losing,” says Ania, and Daria nods in agreement.

“Hold on,” I mutter, frowning, “How did you guys meet her?”

They exchange a look before Ania leans closer. “Dmitry introduced us a few times.”

“Right,” I say, trying to control my jealousy.

“They were supposed to marry, after all,” Daria says. “And trust me, it was a surprise to us all when she rocked up here like the next queen in line to the Volkov throne. We said it wouldn’t last, didn’t we?” she adds, looking to Ania for confirmation.

I stand, taking them both by surprise. “I need to pee,” I mutter. “Damn bladder.”

I get inside and release a long breath. Marshall appears, his face suddenly laced with concern. “Oh god, what have you done?”

I narrow my eyes. “You need to stop assuming I’ve done something every time I need a goddamn minute to breath.”

“Jesus, can I have my head back?” he asks sarcastically.

“I notice you don’t speak to me like this around Dmitry,” I snap.

He grins. “It’s a secret love I have for you. Besides, Dmitry wouldn’t understand our terrible British banter. What’s up?”

I sigh, resting my elbows on the worktop and burying my face in my hands. “Dmitry came here with her, didn’t he?”

“Fuck, Tori, get a grip. He was going to marry her.”

“I know,” I snap, slamming my hands on the tabletop. “I can still be annoyed.”

“About what?” he asks, sounding exasperated. “You know what? Lollygag,” he says, arching his brows.

“You can’t use that now,” I argue.

“I can. It’s my safe word too, and I’m pulling it.”

“For what?” I ask, throwing my hands in the air. “I’m having a moment here, Marshall. Let me wallow.”

“No. There are guests, and you have to face up to the fact that Dmitry had a past. His future is with you, and he loves you. Now, get a fucking grip and make some friends.”

I smile, glancing out the doors at the women. “They seem nice.”

“They do?” he asks, sounding surprised.

I laugh. “Hey, don’t trust me. I’m crazy, remember?” And I head back out.

DMITRY

We gave up golf halfway around. The heat is too much, and our home country is often cold, so these men are not used to it. Mikhail hired out the club bar, and as we take our seats, the barman brings over two bottles of their finest whiskey.

“So,” says Akim, “what’s the plan?”

“Plan?” I ask as he pours me a drink.

“To rid us of Vladimir.”

“Do we really need details?” asks Aleksandr. “As long as the job is done immediately, we have no need for gossip.”

“Actually,” I say, taking a sip of my drink, “it will be after the wedding.” I feel their eyes on me. “He will see me marry Victoria.”

“Why?” asks Matvey.

“Because he should die knowing he failed.”

“Very well. It’s your plan, your choice.”

“The wedding will be next week,” I add, taking another drink. I haven’t managed to bring it up with Victoria yet, but I’m sure she’ll agree. The sooner, the better, and then we can rid ourselves of their presence in our lives.

“That’s short notice,” says Arkadi.

“Will you be too busy?” I ask, my tone teasing.

He smirks. “I was thinking more of my wife. Her need to sort the perfect outfit will be all I hear about.” We share a laugh, and he raises his glass. “To Dmitry and Victoria. May happiness surround you for eternity.” We all drink to that.

By the time we get back to the villa, the kitchen is a hive of activity. There’s music blaring out, and the women are all either chopping, peeling, or boiling something. I head for Victoria, wrapping my arm around her waist, burying my nose into her hair and inhaling. All I crave right now is to be alone with her. “Good day?” she asks brightly, and I note how refreshing it is to see her wide smile reach her eyes.

“Yes, but now, I want to be inside you,” I murmur in her ear.

She grins. “That will have to wait. We have dinner to get through.”

I groan dramatically. “They won’t notice if we sneak away,” I whisper.

“They will, and I’m on chopping duty. Now, go, stop distracting me.” She swats me away, and I head over to where Marshall is sat by the pool.

“Thank you for the regular updates,” I tell him. Having him text to reassure me that Victoria is fine relaxes me.

“You know, she really is much better. I think you can stop worrying so much, boss.”

I give a stiff nod. “But it seems whenever I let my guard down, something bad happens. She liked the women?” I ask.

He grins. “Yes. I think Phoebe will have a run for her money.”

“How is Phoebe?” I ask, and he looks at me in surprise. “I know you sneak off to see her every so often.”

He smirks. “She’s good. Missing Tori, but I’ve explained the danger surrounding everything right now. She gets it.”

“Maybe you can bring her to the wedding next week,” I say casually.

“Wedding?” he repeats, his eyes widening, “Next week?”

“Shush,” I say. “Don’t get hysterical. I expect that later when I tell Victoria.”

“You mean she doesn’t know?” he hisses.

“Leave her to me,” I say, feeling confident.

“Good luck.”

“The dress fits her, right?” I ask.

“Yes, they’re taking it in a few inches.”

“Go and pick it up tomorrow. Tell the shop owner we won’t be needing further alterations. Our flight is at lunchtime.”

We get through dinner, which is tedious and long. Each time I run my hand up Victoria’s leg, she swats it away. And as we stand at the door to wave the families off, I wrap my arms around her waist and kick the door closed. “You’ve been avoiding me all evening,” I growl, nipping her earlobe between my teeth.

“We were entertaining,” she says, laughing.

“I get to touch you whenever I like,” I say, slipping my hand up her dress and across her stomach.

“What I really need right now is hot chocolate,” she says, turning in my arms and giving me her best pout.

“Hot chocolate, in this heat?”

She smiles. “The baby loves it, and Marshall went to the store especially to get it.”

I groan. “Fine. I’ll make your hot chocolate while you go and get naked.”

She kisses me. “Yes, Sir.”

I make my krasota ’s hot chocolate and head upstairs. I sigh heavily when I see she’s already fast asleep. Smiling to myself, I place the cup on her bedside cabinet and lean down, kissing her gently and pulling the sheet over her naked body. I stop as my fingers brush over her stomach, leaning down and placing a kiss there too. “Goodnight, moy syn .”

My cock strains, and I open my eyes to find Victoria climbing over me with a wicked grin on her face. “I fell asleep on you,” she says, giggling. “I’m so sorry.” She sinks onto my erection, and I groan in pleasure. “You promised me a day by the pool,” she adds, bracing her hands on my chest and moving at a slow pace.

“A morning,” I mutter, closing my eyes and enjoying the feel of her.

“Dmitry, you promised.”

“I know, my krasota , but I also promised to get you home.”

“What’s the rush?” she asks, leaning down to kiss me, and I notice she’s brushed her teeth.

I smirk, gripping her hips and spinning her until she’s below me. “Enough talking,” I whisper, slamming into her. “We have plenty of time for that.”

We spend the entire morning together. It’s relaxed and chill. We lay by the pool as promised, and we fuck in it too, and when it’s finally time to board the private plane home, I feel sad to leave, vowing to return soon to spend my time with her and no one else.

I wait until the plane is speeding down the runway before taking her hand. “I think we should set a date for the wedding,” I tell her.

She looks at me quizzically. “Yes, we already discussed it.”

“But we haven’t set it.”

She grins. “Okay, when were you thinking?”

“Before the baby,” I tell her.

“But I’ll be huge. Are you sure you want a whale in our wedding pictures?” She laughs.

I lean closer, kissing her gently. “You will always be beautiful, especially while my child is growing inside you.”

“You’re so sweet,” she whispers.

I smile against her mouth. “I was thinking next week.”

She freezes, slowly pulling back to look me in the eye. “What?”

“Next week, the wedding.”

She scoffs. “Good one.”

“I’m serious. Look, I want this to happen, and we’ve waited long enough. What’s stopping us?”

She stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have. “Dmitry, I can’t plan a wedding in a week.”

“You won’t have to. I’ve arranged for Poppy to be home for the wedding. Marshall has your dress. The church is free after they had a last-minute cancellation.”

“You’ve booked it?”

“I’ve provisionally pencilled us in,” I say carefully, realising she doesn’t seem as excited as I thought she would be.

“Dmitry, this isn’t a business transaction,” she says, bracing herself as the plane begins to climb into the sky. She squeezes her eyes closed, and I try to take her hand, but she pulls it free. “Why does everything have to be on your terms?”

“You want to get married, no?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is, my krasota ?” I ask, my voice clearly exasperated. “I love you, and I want us to be a family when our son arrives.”

“Daughter,” she snaps.

“Child,” I say with a smile. The seatbelt light clicks off, and she opens her eyes as I reach for hers to unfasten it. “The longer we drag this out, the longer we have to spend watching our backs because of my father.”

“You have the go-ahead now, just do what you have to do.”

I trail my fingers over her thigh. “You want him there, remember?” I remind her. “And so do I. He should watch us and know that he lost.”

She stares at me for some time. “Okay,” she eventually says.

I frown. “Okay?” I repeat.

“Next week. If it’s what you want, we’ll get married.”

I pull her close, kissing her hard. “Thank you, my krasota . I love you.”

“ Ya tebya lyublyu ,” she says, her Russian almost perfect, making me smile wider. “Now, you just have to tell your father.” And she sits back in the chair, looking smug.