Chapter 6 - Chiara

After the reception, I”m exhausted, and all I want to do is escape the constant social demands that this wedding has put on me all day long.

I slip quietly into the elevator, making my getaway, hoping that no one saw me. I don’t even want to say goodbye for fear that it trap me in another conversation about how amazing Maxim and I look together.

The elevator doors slide closed, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

Stepping out, I walk toward our hotel room and punch in the access code to open the door. A soft beep lets me know it worked, I step inside, letting the door drift closed behind me, not bothering to pay attention to it—I”m too tired to think anymore. I walk through to the bedroom, wanting to collapse onto the bed, close my eyes and pretend that this was all a bad dream.

“Chiara.” Stefano’s voice makes me jump and spin around.

“How did you even get in here?” I demand angrily.

“Keep your voice down,” he snaps.

“Get out.”

“I am here to help you, stop being such a bitch.” He steps closer to me, and I take a step away from him, my back pressing against the closet door.

He grins, a dark, nasty smile. Then slips his hand into his pocket.

He pulls out a knife and my heart leaps into my throat. “What the fuck?” I whisper.

I want to scream, wondering if he is here to slice my throat open in some weird psychotic episode of anger.

I open my mouth and he quickly clamps his hand over it. “Stop it, don’t be stupid.”

I push him, hard, and he chuckles.

He holds out his hand, stepping just slightly away from me, and hands me the knife.

“What are you doing?” I ask, whispering, unsure of what”s happening.

“Take it. It has a recording device built into it. You can record conversations between you and the Dubrov, and perhaps between him and his brothers. You can spy for your father.”

“A spy?”

“Stop acting so stupid. Yes, a spy. It would help him to know what”s going on inside their business. This wedding should never have taken place. We should not be linked to them like this.”

I take the knife. Unsure what to do with it, I quickly hide it in the closet.

When I turn to face Stefano again, he is close, and he whispers with a threat in his voice.

“Watch your back, Chiara. I don’t trust any of them.”

I am about to ask him what the hell his problem is, what makes him so against this marriage that he is handing me knives and recording devices, but suddenly Maxim walks in.

My breath catches in my throat at the sight of the expression on his face.

He looks furious. How long has he been standing there? Did he see Stef giving me the knife? Did he hear what he said to me? My heart begins to thunder against my ribs, worry flooding me.

“What the hell is this?” his voice fills the room as he walks directly towards us.

“Stefano was just leaving.” I glare at my stepbrother, but he doesn’t move. He hates being told what to do, and I can see the bitterness in his face. I need him to get out of here right now, so that I can somehow get this situation under control. But he”s as stubborn as a mule, and stands his ground, making the tension ten times worse.

“Stefano, she said you were just leaving.” Maxim’s voice is menacing, threatening.

Still my dumbass stepbrother doesn’t move. For fuck”s sake, Stefano, get the hell out of here.

Maxim does not hesitate. He grabs the back of Stefano’s jacket and yanks him away from me. I gasp in fright at the way Maxim is escalating situation. Then, just as quickly as he moved against Stefano, he steps between him and me.

I peek around him at the sour look on Stef’s face. I want to grin—seeing him squirm like this, to see him challenged, is quite satisfying. But at the same time, I”m still stressing about what Maxim actually heard and saw.

“Are you telling me I am not allowed to talk with my sister?” he snaps, like a kid trying to justify himself.

“I am telling you to walk away from my wife before I rip your throat out.”

Maxim reaches behind himself, his hand protectively touching my waist.

A surge of heat sparks between my legs at his possessiveness, which is unexpected.

“I”m done here anyway.”

Stef storms out of the bedroom, and I hear the door closing behind him.

Maxim turns to face me, all of the anger gone from his expression. He reaches out and touches my face gently.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you in any way? I will kill him if he touched you.”

Does this mean he didn’t hear anything?

“I’m…okay,” I say, hesitantly.

“Are you sure? Was he harassing you? If he ever bothers you, you have to let me know. I won’t stand for it. You”re my wife; no one has a right to upset you, not even your brother.”

“Stepbrother. He has always upset me. We never got on,” I say quietly, playing into his concern, because it means he didn”t see the knife.

He steps closer to me, my back against the closet door again, his body pressed against mine. A small gasp escapes my lips as I feel him. He runs his hands over my throat, down the front of my dress. “I promise you, no one will ever hurt you as long as I am around,” he whispers, his voice dark and full of need.

My body sparks to life, as though lightening just jolted through me.

Maxim pauses, his face inches from mine.

All of the tension caused by my teasing during the reception comes ricocheting back at me. And I lose control.

I move my head towards his, and his lips crash into mine.

He presses harder against me, and I feel his body responding, his cock hard beneath his pants.

I run my hand over his chest, down his body, and move my fingers to his groin, feeling the size of him, teasing him over his pants.

He growls and pulls me away from the closet.

He pulls his shirt off as his eyes consume me. He steps close again and kisses me with more fire, more intensity. My body is screaming for him.

I feel his hands brush over the lace ribbons of my wedding dress, tugging blindly, frustrated.

Then he stops and spins my back toward him as he begins to unlace me, slowly, pulling each twist of the ribbon loose as I arch my back toward him, impatiently wanting him to devour me.

The silence in the room is heavy, our breathing all we can hear, both of us tense and desperate.

I keep telling myself that I don’t want to do this, that I don’t even like him, but it isn’t working. Every cell in my body wants him. I can’t deny it or even try to fight against it.

Then I feel the wedding dress loosen and slip down my body. I wiggle as Maxim pushes it over my hips, and it flops onto the floor around my feet.

I hear a deep moan vibrate through him as he sees my lacy lingerie for the first time.

He spins me around to face him again, cupping my breasts in his hands before letting them trail down my waist, over my hips, then lifting me into his arms. My legs wrap around his waist as he carries me toward the bed, his lips locked onto mine again.

He drops me onto my back and stands over the edge of the bed as I admire his sculpted chest, the muscles carved out perfectly. He stares at me, undoing his pants, pulling them off, and I can’t take my eyes off the size of his cock as is jumps free from its restraints. I could feel he was big when he pressed against me, but he isn’t just big, he is enormous.

Naked, he drops his body over mine, his hands and eyes taking in every inch of my lace-covered body.

The way he looks at me, the way he admires me, hungers for me—I”ve never had someone see me that way before, and it”s driving me crazy.

I grab his shoulders, sinking my nails into his skin as feral energy takes over me. I pull him toward my lips again so I can feel the heat of his kiss.

His tongue slips into my mouth, and his hand drifts between my legs, pulling the lace aside. His fingers dip into my pussy, and I moan against his mouth at the sensation of having him inside me.

He breathes deeply, then whispers against my mouth, “You”re soaking wet.”

His fingers move out of me, and I feel him gripping the delicate lace of my panties. In one swift movement, he tears them, taking me by surprise and making me even more desperate.

I feel his cock against my pussy. I lift my hips, unable to wait a second longer.

He slides into me, slowly at first, but then as I gasp, he thrusts.

I tilt my head back as he wraps an arm behind my back and pushes all the way into me, growling deeply at the sensation.

He fills me up and stretches my pussy wide open. His breath is hot against my neck as he begins to pound into me. I cry out, digging my nails into his back, and let him take full control of my body, the pleasure becoming all that I can focus on.

He fucks me for ages, my pussy becoming more and more sensitive to his movements. I feel my legs begin to shake, and he grabs my thigh, wrapping his long fingers around my leg to push my legs wider apart. He fills me up even more, and soon I am crying out at each thrust of his cock inside me.

My breathing comes faster and harder. He continues to fuck me, and my entire body starts to shudder.

My pussy throbs over his cock, pulsing and tightening, and suddenly my orgasm crashes over me. He moans loudly as he thrusts again, and I feel him exploding inside me.

For a moment, we lie in silence, wrapped up in each other, and then as the heat of it all begins to fade, I am filled with immense regret.

I cannot believe I gave in to him so quickly. I didn’t mean to sleep with him. He manipulated me into this entire situation—the marriage, the sex, everything.

I bite my lip as he lifts himself off me, rolling onto the bed next to me and trying to pull me against him.

I resist, ever so slightly, not wanting to lie with him.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his deep voice soft and gentle.

“I want you to leave, please. I would rather sleep alone.”

Self-consciously, I cover myself with my arm and pull my knees tightly together. He props himself up on his elbow to look at me.

“You want me to go? Now?”

“Yes,” I confirm, without making eye contact.

He pulls his mouth tight but lifts himself off the bed.

“Of course. I am sure you a tired and need some time to rest.”

There is no bitterness in his voice, as I had expected there to be.

He pulls his pants on and buttons his shirt. I sit tensely, covering myself, waiting for him to get out.

He turns toward me, then, unexpectedly leaning over the bed and softly kissing my cheek. I close my eyes for a moment.

“Sleep well,” he says.

“You too,” I reply, barely a whisper.

And then he gone, and I am left in stunned silence, wondering what I just did, and why he respected my request without any argument at all.