Chapter 17: Afanasy

I stood in the living room, dressed up in a fancy black suit, a hand buried in my pocket, my eyes occasionally darting to my watch. What was taking her so long?

We were supposed to have been at the party about thirty minutes ago; I'd been ready ever since, but she still hadn't finished yet. This would be our first time attending a gathering as a couple, the first time that I would be going out with her.

Maybe she wanted to make a good first impression on my associate, which was an excellent idea; however, at what cost?

I heaved a sigh, glancing at my watch again, my brows creasing. Was every other married man out there putting up with this same thing?

I bowed my head, fingers pinching the bridge of my nose.

While I waited, I needed a distraction from this subtle anger swelling within me—something to keep me busy until she was ready.

A small smile played on my lips, considering how quickly I was starting to change; the me from before would've left the house already. I wasn't exactly the patient type in situations like this; in fact, I'd always hated the idea of waiting. Yet, there I was, waiting for a woman I'd married with only a little knowledge of.

I found it strange how she was effortlessly sneaking her way into my heart, breaking my defenses, and transforming me into a man I barely recognized.

My expression softened, my mind drifting back to our last intimate moment—exactly the distraction I needed. Memories unfolded like a tapestry, and like a leaf on a river, I floated back to that moment.

I could still smell the scent of her arousal mixed with our sweat as the sound of her melodious moans echoed in my head. That ironically happened to be one of the best rides I'd had, and to think it was from a woman with very little sex experience.

She'd outdone herself that day—twisting, twirling, and grinding like a pro. I taught her well.

A smirk lined a corner of my lips.

Beyond the sex, I felt we had a deeper connection to each other. She was clearly drawn to me as much as I was drawn to her, and I was yet to understand how she'd managed to pull that off.

She was all that I could think of, day and all night. Wren was in my head, running around and occupying my mind like she fucking owned the place.

Was I becoming soft? Wasn't it too soon to feel unmoved by other women simply because I was married? Was it normal to feel this way, or was I under some kind of spell?

I'd experimented with the notion, occasionally attempting to entertain the idea of being with someone else. But no matter how hard I tried, I would always end up with the same result—unenthused by the prospect.

It was intriguing and concerning at the same time, especially because I had no control over the situation. She was all that I wanted—Wren and only Wren.

Never had I felt this way about any woman before, and not even my 4 P.M. booty call, Veronica, could ever hold a candle to the flame Wren had ignited in me.

How did she do it? How did an innocent girl manage to steal my attention, my focus, from the others to herself?

With her guileless charm, Wren had captivated me, her innocence and beauty rendering me spellbound.

I heaved a sigh, a mix of emotions flooding through me as my thoughts diverted for a moment, her announcement ringing in my head.

I’m pregnant.

My heart swelled with excitement at the thought of being a father as I imagined a new life. However, apprehension crept into my mind, concerns about responsibility and provision. I was just as terrified as I was elated, like walking a tightrope.

But one thing was certain: Despite Wren's glaring fear and unreadiness, we were both going to find a way to make it work. Neither of us had been a parent before; this was a new territory, and we would tread it together.

My eyes darted down at my watch, then up the stairs in the direction of the bedroom. She was starting to piss me off with how long it took for her to get ready. Maybe I'd ask my brother, Roman, or my cousin, Kostya, for some tips on how to manage situations like this.

My jaw tightened, and a faint scowl flashed across my face, my patience wearing thinner by the second. I paced back and forth in the living room, hands in my pockets, then on my waist, as I glanced at my watch every now and then.

I lowered my head in dismay, fingers massaging my temples as if to soothe this pang of vexation within me.

As I raged on the inside, her presence invaded my senses, and the majestic clicks of her heels against the floor caught my attention. I raised my head, my brows rising as I watched her graciously gliding down the stairs.

While descending, her stride was purposeful, like a beauty queen sashaying down a catwalk. She was dressed up in a fine red gown with a long slit that revealed a tantalizing glimpse of her alluring thigh.

Her dark hair was styled in loose, effortless waves that framed her baby face with elegance. Her makeup was mild yet sophisticated, accentuating her natural beauty as her soft porcelain skin simmered in the lights.

She was gorgeous, radiant with elegance and style.

Her expressive brown eyes sparkled with mirth, defined by soft liner and a lash accent. When her cherry-red lips curled into a bright smile, revealing a glimpse of her white teeth, my breath caught for a moment.

Her manicured hand trailed the polished handrail with poise and precision while grasping her purse with the other.

She was divine! Angelic in every way—no wonder she took all the time in the world just to get dressed.

However, the delay still left a bad taste in my mouth, and I had a bone to pick with her over the wait. It was so tempting to tell her how beautiful she looked this evening, but I was still feeling a little raw over the time wasted.

“I'm sorry I took so long. Time slipped away from me,” she said, halting in front of me, her lips parting slightly.

Her apology and the beautiful grin that accompanied it melted my heart, softening my mood as my anger dissolved. Yet I wasn't going to boost her ego by complimenting her.

“It's alright,” I said, my eyes subtly roaming over her elegant frame.

Wren squinted, her head tilting sideways with anticipation flickering in her gaze. Wren was clearly awaiting my compliment—a gesture that suggested she must have taken this much time just to impress me.

However, I stood poised before her, wearing a poker face that masked my true emotions. “Let's go. The car's ready,” I said, my tone flat.

Her brows arched, and then her face fell, her eyes clouded over with disappointment. Ironically, I felt terrible for making her feel this way, but I maintained a blank expression.

“Chop, chop.” I tucked a hand in my pocket and sauntered off, a self-satisfied grin playing on my lips despite the twinge of guilt in my conscience.

___________

Soft laughs and hushed conversations filled the grand hall, mingling with the clinking of glasses. The air was thick with the sweet scent of expensive colognes as impeccably dressed men and women lingered around in clusters.

Richard David, a business partner of the Bratva and a personal friend of mine, was throwing a party at his mansion. He'd successfully closed a multi-million dollar deal with a Chinese company, which, in my book, was more than enough reason to celebrate.

With Wren’s elbow locked in mine, we glided through the crowd of smiley faces, soft jazz music playing in the background. My eyes darted across the expansive space and settled on a live band performing in a corner.

Suzanne was their lead singer, a twenty-something-year-old girl—I'd never remembered her age. She was sort of an old fling, someone I used to play with whenever I was bored until I eventually lost interest in her altogether.

I'd never taken any woman seriously before; if I liked them, I'd fuck them and then pay them off. But if they impressed me, then I might consider having them in my bed a second time.

However, that wasn't the case with Wren, hence the reason for the turmoil within me.

As Suzanne sang, her gloved hands wrapping the standing microphone, she spotted me in the crowd and winked.

I ignored her, picking up a glass from a waiter's tray as he walked past me. Taking a sip, I caught a few heads turning to look at my wife, lust and admiration flickering in their gazes.

My jaw clenched as I recognized some of the men staring at her—pigs who would fuck anything in a skirt. My blood boiled at the idea that those assholes were most likely harboring illicit thoughts about my wife, and that made me sick in my stomach.

I drained the champagne and set the empty glass on a nearby table. “So, what do you think of the party?” I asked Wren, my eyes lingering over her body, my hand possessive around her waist.

Those pervs needed to know that this fresh meat was taken by Afanasy Tarasov, and this little gesture worked. One by one, they all turned their faces away, none wanting to ruffle my feathers. I was a force to be reckoned with—they knew that and didn’t even dare to look at her twice.

On Wren's face was a faint scowl, a hint of her ongoing displeasure with my lack of compliments. “The party's nice,” she said, her tone flat and oddly casual.

Yep. I sorta deserved that.

“Look who it is, Afanasy Tarasov.” Richard David laughed, his arms opened wide as he approached us.

Richard embraced me, his breath reeking of alcohol and his palm tapping my back. “You came.” He swayed slightly, a hiccup escaping his lips. “Honestly, I didn't think that you would,” he slurred, stepping back with his hands on my shoulders, his glassy eyes lingering on me.

“Why would you think that?” I asked, indulging him.

He hiccupped again. “Well, word in the street is you got married to a really beautiful woman, and now you're starting to avoid wild gatherings.” He chuckled, signaling for a waiter to step forward.

Wren and I exchanged glances, and I caught a glimpse of satisfaction in her eyes, her lips curling into a smile.

He snatched a glass from the waiter's tray and faced me. “Bottoms up.”

“You sure you want another one?” My brows arched, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “I think you've had one too many of those already.”

“See?” He laughed. “That's the married Afanasy talking.” Richard drained the champagne in a single shot. “The man I remember would've grabbed himself a glass by now.”

Wren still had that small smile on her face; for some reason, she found Richard's behavior hilarious. It was hard to explain to her that he was our host for the night.

“Oh, hey, Mike!” He spotted an associate of his in a group of four men to our right. “Afan, you're gonna have to excuse me.” Richard tapped my shoulder and left to join the group.

Wren's brows remained raised as we watched him leave. “Clearly, I must be invisible tonight.” She let out a faint cackle, her words hinting at how Richard hadn't acknowledged her presence.

“Trust me, it's better that you didn't have a conversation with him in that state,” I said, eyes fixed on her.

Wren's gaze shifted from me, and I watched her squint, her brows rising as she stared in a particular direction. I traced her gaze to an elegant woman in a blue dress, laughing and smiling with a few other women.

“Oh, my God, is that Julia?” Wren muttered, a chuckle breaking from her lips. “It is her!” Her voice was tinged with excitement.

My brows knitted together in confusion, my head tilting as I wondered how connected she was to my brother's wife. “Wait a minute, you know her from somewhere?” I asked, curiosity creeping into my voice.

“Are you kidding? That's my friend.” She giggled, not taking her eyes off Julia.

Friend? I thought.

Wren turned to face me, a glimmer of desperation coloring her eyes. “Can I please go say hello to her?”

She didn't have to beg the way that she did. We were husband and wife now, not jailer and prisoner.

“Yeah, sure,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

She beamed, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she left. I watched her wave, gliding toward Julia, whose jaw dropped, her mouth open in a silent scream.

They, indeed, knew each other. I wiped a palm over my face, thinking about what a small world it was.

Since Julia was here, that meant Roman wasn't too far behind. He was definitely here somewhere, and I scanned the space, my eyes roaming the surroundings for at least a glimpse of him.

“Small world, huh?” a familiar voice spoke from behind me.

Before I could turn around, my cousin, Alexei, materialized beside me, cradling a glass, his eyes fixed on the excited duo. “Your bride is friends with Roman's wife.” He stole a glance at me. “What are the odds?” His lips curled into a smile.

“Good to see you, too, cousin.” I released a dismissive chuckle, tapping his shoulder. “You seen Roman yet?”

“No,” he replied, taking a sip from his glass. “But I'm sure he's around somewhere.” Alexei paused for a moment. “So, how's it like being married?”

Upon his question, memories of my time with Wren came flooding back into my mind, infusing me with a mix of emotions. I jerked my eyes, watching my wife laugh so genuinely, lost in her conversation with Julia.

This wasn't a talk we could have in here, so I turned to face him. “Wanna go out for a smoke?”

He looked at me, his smirk spreading. “This sounds promising. Let's do it.”

I took one last look at Wren, but she still seemed engrossed in her discussion with Julia. Quietly, Alexei and I headed out, exiting the hall.

We made our way to a secluded balcony, the full moon casting its soft glow over the entire compound. The breeze was gentle and cool out here, carrying with it a subtle scent of flowers from a nearby garden.

Just as I was about to light a cigarette, Alexei's phone vibrated in his pocket. He dipped his hand, withdrawing it, and as he glanced at the screen, he jerked his head back. “I'm sorry, cousin. I have to take this. It's urgent.”

“Sure, of course,” I replied, nodding.

“Yes?” He walked away, his voice thick and threatening.

This was his signature disciplinary tone; someone was clearly in trouble. Sucked to be whoever that was because my cousin would show no mercy.

Alone, I lit my cigarette, its flame casting a momentary glow on my face as I took a long, satisfying drag, the smoke enveloping me.

Not long after, I sensed another presence around me—feminine with a strong perfume, a scent I was very familiar with. The newcomer was lurking in the shadows, watching me.

I lowered my head, fingers scratching my scalp. “What, are you stalking me now?”

Silence.

Leaning against the railing, I fixed my gaze on a dark corner a few paces ahead of me. “I know it's you, Veronica. I can smell your perfume.” I took another drag, savoring the flavor dancing on my tongue.

Out of the shadows, she emerged, her high heels clicking against the floor as she approached me. The scowl on her face deepened the closer she drew, and I couldn't care less.

Veronica, a busty brunette, was a woman I’d used to spend a lot of time with, fooling around with and basically just having sex—tons of sex. But that was all she was good for: pleasure.

She wasn't the kind that I would ever end up with as a wife. Veronica just wasn't cut out for that type of life. She was easy on the eyes and blessed with a physique that was to die for, but I wouldn't date her, let alone marry her.

The glare in her eyes was because she was mad at me for various reasons, some of which she was about to spill any second from now.

Here we go, in three, two, one… I thought, and immediately, she began.

“Oh, so now you can smell my perfume. Is that it?” She halted in front of me, her eyes boring into mine. “I bet you can still remember the taste of my pussy, too, can't you?” Her tone dripped with sarcasm.

I released another puff of smoke, uninterested in her rants. This was one of the major reasons I would never be with her; she talked a lot and could be impulsive.

“How could you just ghost me like that?” she continued, her eyes never leaving mine. “I mean, I know the basis of our relationship, but at least a heads-up would've been nice.” She drew closer, her body inches from mine. “I deserve an explanation.”

I felt a pang of irritation at her demand, and my brows knitted together as I leaned closer to her, my voice dropping to a low whisper. “I owe you no explanation, Veronica.” I cast a condescending look down her slender frame. “You’ve served your purpose…entertainment.”

Her breath hitched in her throat, a gesture that hinted at her displeasure at my words.

“I no longer have any use for your services anymore,” I spat, my words razor-sharp.

She stepped closer, her manicured fingers caressing my body and her seductive eyes cast on me. “I refuse to believe that.” Her hand dared to slide down to my groin. “Last time I checked, you've never been able to resist me. You can't start now.” She stuck her tongue out and leaned over to kiss me, her voice an alluring whisper.

I grasped her hand before she could feel my cock, my eyes burning with irritation. A woman I once found attractive now meant nothing to me, and the only feeling her touch stirred in me was disgust.

Her eyes widened with shock, a gasp escaping her lips as I tossed her hand off me.

“Get this into your thick skull, Veronica,” I said, looking right into her eyes so she'd realize that I was too far gone. “We're done.”

She blinked rapidly, her chest rising and falling with anger, but I didn’t care. I only had eyes for one woman.