Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Three weeks ago…

Renata

Waking felt like slipping between worlds—the dream still clinging to me like a shadow. I had been held in isolation by the Romanovs for several days, Ollie, my primary captor. He would come in and bring me food, and at first, he'd leave silently. I was told that this was always his way: silence and aloofness.

"I speak only when it's necessary," he finally said to me one day when I questioned him.

But I suspected beneath that calm exterior was a man capable of doing terrible things.

And honestly? I found it kind of hot.

Being near him felt like standing on the edge of oblivion—one step would send me hurtling into the abyss. But goddamn, I craved the fall.

I reveled in the heart-pounding moments of fear. It felt like a sort of anticipation.

One night, in the middle of the night, I got up to use the bathroom and realized Ollie wasn't sitting in his usual place.

In the Romanov family estate, it was almost a maze, and they'd recently granted me some freedom to explore. I planned on using that to my full advantage.

I wanted to find Ollie.

I walked down the hallway toward a sliver of yellow light spilling from a door that stood slightly ajar.

My instincts said I shouldn't be here. That I should be hiding, or at the very least, I should be in bed. But I felt drawn to that doorway like a moth to a flame.

I wanted to see Ollie. In the short time I'd been a prisoner of the Romanovs, I'd begun to crave his presence.

The harsh sound of a Russian accent made a shiver skate down my spine. I paused in the doorway, my breath catching as I took in the scene. Ollie was there, standing over a man tied to a chair, his voice low and menacing. The man's face was a mask of fear. Ollie stood, bare-chested and slick with sweat, like a warrior on an ancient battlefield, ruthless and unyielding. My God, he was so sexy. The sight of him, so powerful, so commanding, stirred something primal in me. I finally understood why my cousin once confided in me that the best way to get turned on was by watching a man fight.

I knew he was aware of my presence because of the way he tilted his chin in my direction before he went right back to work. He continued to ask questions, none that I could understand because everything was in Russian, but his voice was calm and void of all emotion.

I watched as the man spat something out in Russian and turned his head away. Ollie growled back in Russian, stepped forward, and fisted the man's hair. I swallowed a gasp, forcing myself to watch in silence. To not look away.

In one swift movement, Ollie elbowed him in the neck. The man's screams echoed in the room, but Ollie showed no signs of remorse. He wrapped his hands around his neck, and the man turned purple as Ollie barked out instructions in his ear.

Something had threatened his safety… or the safety of someone in his family. His calm was terrifying, a storm just beneath the surface as he delivered blow after blow, unshaken by the raw violence.

He spoke in calm, measured Russian tones, and the man nodded, pleading.

I took a step into the room.

When Ollie turned to me, the hardness in his face melted away, replaced by a softness that was almost impossible to believe. How could this be the same person? I wondered if I imagined it. Was I so desperate for love and attention that at the slightest hint of interest and I'd fall?

A small smile actually played on his lips as he approached me. He reached down, took his T-shirt draped over a chair, and wiped his hand before he touched me. Approaching me, he gently placed his hand on the side of my cheek, perhaps his favorite way to touch me, before he bent and kissed my forehead.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he said, peering into my eyes. It was a complete transformation—from ruthless interrogator to gentle protector. "Are you all right, Renata? Did something scare you? Do you feel well?" His hand brushed my forehead with a tenderness that felt almost out of place after what I'd just seen.

I swallowed hard and shook my head, not even sure which question I answered.

I'd seen vicious brutality in my life. My own brother had grown to be a man devoid of emotion, but in all my life, no one had ever touched me with such tenderness or looked in my eyes as if he would move a mountain with his own bare hands to make me happy.

I wondered what crime the man had committed to earn such punishment.

That night, as I watched him shift from ruthless to gentle, something inside me broke—and I think I fell in love. I mumbled something about my stomach being uneasy, which wasn't a lie. He frowned and nodded, holding my gaze as if I were the only person in the world and he wasn't still covered in the blood of another man.

"Back to bed," he ordered, his voice gentle but leaving no room for disobedience. A man of few words, I'd quickly learned Ollie always meant what he said. "I'll get you something to make you feel better." He turned me around toward the door. "Go, now, Renata."

"Thank you," I whispered. My eyes flickered at the man in the chair. Ollie didn't know that I could detect lies. Could he use my help now?

Something told me to wait until the time was right.

I went back to bed and lay down. I tried to summon some vestige of humanity, some horror for what I've seen. I wanted to be horrified. I wanted to feel normal, but all I could remember was that tender look in his eyes.

I wake, my half-dream slipping away, and there he is—a shadow by the window, watching over me. The soft glow of moonlight in front of him bathes him in a gentle golden hue, casting dancing shadows on the walls. Bare-chested, he's wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and holds a bottle of beer in one hand.

I blink in surprise and look down. I'm still in the white satin panties and bra, the dress over a chair. I don't even remember taking it off. I must've fallen asleep.

"Ollie?"

He turns to me. I'm unable to see his eyes as he's shadowed in darkness.

"What time is it?" I ask.

Shrugging, he puts the bottle to his lips and finishes it. I'm mesmerized by the way he swallows. There's something irascibly masculine about the way a man swallows with his head tipped back, a brief glimpse of his vulnerability.

"Don't know," he says when he's finished. "Don't care."

I look down again as if to remind myself I'm nearly naked. "Did you take my wedding dress off?"

"Yeah. You were asleep, and I didn't want to wake you. Not after that ordeal."

My arm throbs beneath the bandage. I stare at it and breathe a sigh of relief. It's gone. The fucking tracker's gone, and, by now, likely as far away from here as he could get it.

"Eh. Thanks, but I've been through worse than that," I say with a laugh.

He's instantly sober. "I know."

The scent of roses hangs in the air, mingling with the hint of his cologne. I swallow. "I thought… doesn't the Bratva have rules about consummating a marriage?"

"Mmm," he says. "They do." He moves toward me with predatory grace, each step deliberate. As he nears me, I can finally see his eyes, as green as enchanted jade. "You're so beautiful."

A shiver of anticipation ripples through me as he draws closer. When he reaches me, he sits on the end of the bed. "You made me so proud today."

I tip my head to the side just as his hand cups my jaw. "Did I? When?"

"When you took your vows. And when you didn't flinch when I took that fucking tracker out of your arm." His voice lowers. "When you let me take care of you." As he speaks, he traces a finger down my neck, over my collarbone, to the slim strap of my bra. With deliberate care, his touch glides over my skin, sliding the bra off my shoulders like he's unveiling me. It falls half off, cupping the lower part of my breasts.

My heart pounds in my chest. I'm nearly naked before my ruthless husband.

"Thank you," I whisper. "Ollie?"

"Mmm?" he says, staring at my bare skin just before he slowly, deliberately, reaches to my back and unclasps my bra. It falls to the bed, baring my breasts to him. I look at them as if seeing them for the first time. They're full, with large, dusky pink nipples that harden just from the intensity of his gaze and his nearness.

"Yes?" He bends his mouth to my breast and kisses the underside. My breath hitches.

"Do you believe me now?"

"I do," he says with conviction. My eyes flutter closed as relief washes through me. He said I do earlier, too, and I feel in that moment there are no two words sweeter in all of English.

He believes me.

It doesn't matter if his family doesn't. It doesn't matter if Carlos is after us and will attempt to destroy us. None of that concerns me now. All that matters is that Ollie believes me. We're married. We're a unit, a team, and no one will tear us apart.

"You have no power to lie, Renata. It's not who you are."

I exhale. "There were times when I wished that I could."

"Yeah," he says, kissing higher up my breast. Anticipation makes my pulse race. "Lying comes in useful, doesn't it?"

He leans in, his lips brushing mine. My chest rises to meet him.

I'm the one who deepens this kiss. I reach for him, drawing him closer to me as his hands roam over my body, leaving a wake of fire in his path. I can feel the urgency of his need in his touch and in the way he kisses me. He moves fully onto the bed, and our bodies press against each other, heat building between us with each passing moment.

His lips trace a path of kisses down my neck, over my shoulders, across my chest, each touch sending waves of pleasure through me. The way he touches me feels reverent, and my heart swells with something like love.

Can I love a man like him?

Could I love anyone less than him?

We move together on the bed, our bodies pressed against each other. The heat between us builds with every second that passes. As we sink deeper into the softness of our shared bed, his movements grow more urgent, his kisses darker. More demanding. I meet him with equal fervor, our bodies moving in perfect harmony. The world outside the two of us ceases to exist. The world could burn to the ground around us, and we wouldn't notice.

Every kiss makes my need for him more urgent, heat thrumming through my veins like molten lava.

I want him. I need him.

He rolls onto his back and lifts me over him, so my legs straddle his. I'm so turned on, my thighs are slick with arousal. He glides me onto him and groans when he finds my wetness. "Jesus, woman," he says in a heated whisper. "You're fucking soaked."

"Mmm." I nod, moving my hips to meet his first thrust. My head falls back as my body meets his. It feels so damn good to be connected to him, and for the first time, it feels like… we're one. United.

"You're shaking," he whispers. He places his hand on my shoulder, tracing comforting circles with his thumb. My body quakes gently. I am. I'm as nervous as a virgin.

It feels like the first time, and in a way… it is.

Our first time as husband and wife.

He cups both my shoulders with his large, warm hands, glinting jade holding my gaze. And once again… there's only the two of us. The world falls away like the cracked pieces of a broken shell, leaving new life in its wake.

Dear God, he's enormous and so fucking eager for me. I lick my lips as his thick, hot cock stretches me, fills me, igniting me. My mouth is dry, and my clit throbs as the walls of my pussy clench around him.

Right now, in this moment, words aren't needed; our bodies are saying all that we need to.

I'm sorry.

Forgive me.

We can do this.

I love you.

We draw in synchronized breath, a shared rhythm of desire and intimacy. The rapid beating of my heart seems to echo unspoken words between us.

As he thrusts deeper, our movements become a silent oath of forgiveness and understanding.

I cling to him, my nails digging into his shoulders, drawing him closer. I need him to feel every inch of me while I feel every inch of him. His hands, strong and steady, grip my hips, guiding me closer. Grounding me.

His lips find mine. We breathe into each other. He's salty and sweet. My breasts swing freely in front of him. Our tongues touch as he grips my nipples and rakes his fingernails over the hardened buds.

As the climax builds, the intensity of our connection overwhelms me.

I cry out his name, a plea and a prayer, as he responds with a guttural groan that vibrates through every cell of my body. As one, we shatter.

He holds me to his chest, our bodies entwined, our hearts beating as one. His lips press to my forehead. I close my eyes, not surprised to find my cheeks are wet.

"I love you, Renata."

"I love you too," I whisper back. We've buried a world of hurt with our vows and honesty.

For now, I let myself feel this. Breathe in hope and exhale fear.

Both of us know the treacherous road before us is filled with snipers and landmines, but together… maybe, just maybe, we're invincible.