Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

Renata

"You asshole!" The fucking nerve of him to kiss the hell out of me then sneakily put those damn handcuffs on me. "Why?"

"Mikhail told me to."

" Mikhail told me to ," I mock, even though I'm well aware of how important it is that he does what Mikhail tells him to.

"Maybe I like the way you look handcuffed," he says with a casual shrug as he fastens my seat belt like I'm a child. The glint in his eyes makes my heart leap into my throat. I swallow hard.

"That's your grand plan? Take me back to your family home, with your mother right down the hall, and tie me to your bed?" I wrinkle my nose, pretending my cheeks aren't flaming hot. "Is that what you do with all the girls you bring home to Mama?"

"No, baby," he says with another characteristic smirk. "Only you."

I want to hate him. I want to separate us, at least superficially, with a wall between us so that I don't ever have to worry about him hurting my heart. I started falling for him—I know I did, but I can't give my brother any more fodder.

I turn away and stare out the window, looking for any evidence at all that we're being followed. I can't see any.

But I know they're there.

My arm burns from my injury. I'm tired. My eyes feel scratchy, and my mouth is dry from dehydration. I'm a mess. But that doesn't stop my heart from soaring when I see the Romanov family home looming in front of us, as bright as a brilliant daisy underneath beaming rays of sunlight.

For one small moment, I felt like I belonged, that I was wanted and needed. I felt something like love.

The thick walls, heavily reinforced with steel, weapons, and a convoy of alpha males, make me feel more secure than I've felt in a long time.

My brother is brutal and ruthless, but he's only one person. Only one.

"Ollie," I say tentatively as the car comes to a stop.

"Yeah?"

"Do I have to talk to everyone now? I don't want to see any of them, especially since we're getting married."

He looks out the window and gives me a curt nod. "I'll get out first and make sure we have privacy."

I feel strangely emotional as I watch him exit the car and walk straight toward the front door, his mouth already up to his phone.

I don't know what he's saying, but he looks serious as his lips purse, and he gets into a heated discussion. Finally, after a moment, he heads back my way, opens the door, and unlocks the handcuffs. "Coast is clear. Let's go."

"Can I just get some rest first?" I ask as I walk beside him. I'm on edge, expecting one of his many siblings to come find us or, at the very least, some of his younger nieces or nephews, but thankfully, we're alone as we head inside.

"You can see a doctor first," he says in a tone of voice that brooks no argument. "Before anything else happens. I won't make you socialize or anything like that, but you do have to take your health seriously."

I grumble under my breath. I don't want to see a doctor. I've been to hell and back and want a warm bed and time alone to process what I'm doing next.

"Renata," he growls under his breath.

"What?"

"I'm not going to let you fuck around with your physical health."

"I got a scratch on my arm. It's hardly in need of amputation. Mikhail told you to make sure I see a doctor, and God knows you can't go against anything he tells you to do." I don't know why I'm being so ornery. It isn't like me. Honestly, it isn't.

"Is that Renata?" I hear his sister Polina's voice in the background, but someone quickly hushes her.

"After some rest, you will have to see them," he says. "There's no getting around that, you know."

"I know."

I can't get past the fact that they all think I betrayed them.

I want so badly to be a part of this family. I want them to know they can trust me, but I'm not sure how to reveal the truth about my brother and what I know about the Romanov family. I have to pretend I am the enemy, even if it will kill me.

"We're going to the bedroom," he begins. I swallow hard. It feels intimate and dangerous to be alone with him. He continues, undisturbed. "You'll see the doctor. I'll make sure you get food and something to drink, then you can take a shower and rest. But for now, don't fuck around."

It's the smartest thing to do because even though we are on fairly friendly terms at the moment, I have seen firsthand how quickly that can change.

He leads me to the third floor, a place I've never been. The house is huge and often bustling, but the married men have homes of their own now, so it's not as chaotic now as it once had been. Mikhail and Aleksandr, the two oldest brothers, are firmly established and married with children. They own houses not far from here. The third brother, Nikko, married Vera Ivanova, a doctor often stationed overseas in various countries. He travels with her. Viktor and his wife, Lydia, also live nearby, but not quite as close as Mikhail and Aleksandr. Lev and Isabella go back and forth between New York and Colombia.

Ollie is the only one who doesn't live on his own.

Before I was taken back to Colombia, we would talk about this. I wanted to know what his plan was, what he dreamed of, and he wanted to know mine as well. He told me, in great detail, and it meant something to me that I was his confidante.

I want to get back there.

Ollie opens the door to the bedroom and gestures for me to go in. I'm tired and weary and have no more power to resist.

Before I can even sit down, there's a sharp knock on the door. Ollie has his weapon drawn.

"You don't need that here," I tell him, my belly twisting. It's so instinctual for him to draw his gun when something unexpected happens; it's like a hair-trigger reaction.

"I know," he says quietly. "I don't want anybody else to hurt you. Not again."

I look away as something in the wall of my chest breaks a little. He doesn't want me to be hurt. It's not just his instinct but his instinct to protect me. My God.

"Who is it?" he snaps.

He told his family to leave me alone, so I don't expect Mikhail.

"Dr. Agostino," comes the response.

An adult Latina woman with short gray hair enters the room. I've never met her before.

Ollie glares at her. "ID, now," he snaps.

I don't know how he thinks this woman actually got into the family home if she isn't legit. Without batting an eyelash, she flashes her ID at him.

"What happened?" she says sternly, her gaze fixed on me. I look like a wreck… I know that. Her eyes flash back to Ollie. "Did you do this to her?"

His eyes are immediately on her. "Of course I didn't. That's my fiancée. Did you come in here to interrogate me or to check on her?"

A muscle ticks in his jaw as he stands at his full height, at least a head taller than her, but she's unfazed. "I was hired to check. I need to know if you're an immediate threat."

Huh. She's lying. He said nothing to her about Ollie being a threat. That's all on her. Mikhail vouched for her, and she's lying to our faces. I can tell by the shift in eye contact, and her facial expressions betray her. She's good at it; I can say that much. I'm guessing she's concerned about these guys, and for good reason.

"You can leave now, doctor," Ollie snaps as he opens the door.

"Mr. Romanov instructed me to come here," she says. "I am not leaving."

What the fuck? Ollie takes his phone out, places a call, and starts speaking in Russian. I don't understand what he's saying, but a minute later, Mikhail himself steps into the room. "Is there a problem here?" he asks. The tension is so thick in here it's choking me. I lean back on the bed, exhausted. I don't say anything to anybody. They wouldn't believe me if I did.

"She's giving me shit about whether or not I hurt her," Ollie says.

"A legitimate question," Mikhail replies evenly. He doesn't make eye contact with me. "She betrayed us. She's a prisoner. You're marrying her to cure that. Don't forget it."

Ollie locks eyes with the doctor. "Fine. Continue," he says.

"This is what you're concerned about?" she asks, jerking her chin at my bandaged arm. "Who did the bandage?"

"Ollie did," I say, giving her a wary look because I don't think I like her either. "You did a good job," she says without meeting his eyes. She removes the bandage easily and inspects my arm.

Mikhail and Ollie have a hushed conversation, something to do with competency and trust and respect. I'm not sure who they're talking about. Maybe all of us.

"Fine," Ollie says to Mikhail.

The doctor looks over my arm. "There's nothing concerning here," she says quietly. "It looks like it was properly disinfected. You can use this pain-relieving cream and take an oral pain reliever as well if you need to. Is there anything else you need from me?"

"No, you may leave," instructs Mikhail.

I wait until Mikhail leaves us alone, and then it's just me and Ollie. I'm exhausted and so hungry. I feel like I've been to hell and back.

He's going to be my husband, so I might as well pretend that I can trust him, even though I still need some time.

"Ollie?" He brushes a hand through his hair and releases a breath. God, he's stressed as fuck.

"Yeah?"

"She lied to you."

He turns to unpack our bags. His muscles flex with masculine perfection.

God.

I love watching his body move. I lick my lips and swallow.

Focus.

"What are you talking about, Renata?" he asks.

"She said she was hired to check to see if you were a threat. I can tell she was lying."

He turns around fully to look at me and anchors his hands on his hips. "I know. My brother wouldn't do that. Seems the doctor has her own agenda. We'll note that. How do you know somebody's lying?"

"It's a good instinct, an intuition," I tell him. "Sixth sense, you could call it. And if I had to really explain it, it has more to do with expressions. The way people look at you. I just know."

He frowns. "Are you saying she's not a doctor?"

I shake my head. "Her lying was very subtle. She probably is a doctor." I swallow hard, staring at my arm. "It's when she inspected me that she lied. First, she expressed concern about my safety and played it off like that was her job. It wasn't. Second, she lied about my arm. My arm is not okay."

"Fuck," Ollie says. This time, when he runs his hand through his hair, it sticks up on end. " Jesus ." He shakes his head, disbelieving. "Alright, I'll look into it," he says. "You're safe. Do you believe that she's a threat to you?"

"No, I didn't get that vibe at all." I look away, my voice betraying my emotions. "You're the one who tells other people they're insincere, aren't you? You're the one who thinks everyone else is lying."

Like me.

"The fuck, Renata?" he snaps. "You know that's not true."

He sits on the edge of the bed, his large frame causing it to sink. "You're safe here. I'd bet my life on it. No one's going to hurt you. Take the pain relievers she gave you." I nod, my throat tight. I'm not going to fight him this time. I'm too tired, too weary.

"Then strip. I'm going to run a bath for you, and I'm going to bring you some food. You're going to be my wife, Renata. We might as well pretend that you and I like that idea."

Maybe I do. Maybe I fucking do. Why would he know?

I've never been on this floor before. From here, out the window, I can see houses beyond us, but the Romanov family home and headquarters are firmly established right here in The Cove. I know we're going to get married soon, probably tomorrow. Does it matter? Does anything matter? I feel as if I want to throw everything to the wind and just forget about it.

Exhausted, I head to the bathroom and do what he said. The hot water feels good. I allow myself to sink into the tub and imagine it's washing me clean of everything.

I close my eyes and dip my head back. The hot water on my scalp is soothing. I sink beneath the surface and let it take me.

I could… just end this. I could stay under the water and never come up again. I hold my breath and contemplate what that would look like. A few moments of struggle… the water would fill my lungs, and I'd… sink… never to surface again. And then all of this would be over.

Ollie knocks at the door. I ignore him.

I want it all just to go away. It's heavy and painful, and I am so damn tired.

I surface and gasp for air, my lungs expanding.

"Renata?" His tone is sharp. "Are you alright in there?"

"Yeah." I try to sound normal like I wasn't just fully under the water contemplating drowning myself. "What do you want?"

At the sound of his deep voice, I'm suddenly very, very aware of the fact that I'm naked, and he's standing just on the other side of that door. That I'm here. Still breathing.

Still fucking breathing.

"You hungry?"

I swallow. "Yeah. Starving."

"Finish up. Get dressed. I'll get you something to eat for now, but later you'll eat with my family."

When I don't answer, the door flies open. I gasp and sink into the water.

Not as far as I went before.

He stands in the doorway, all alpha male perfection, and I'm vividly aware of the contrast in power between us.

I swallow… hard.

"Go ahead, cover yourself up with water. It doesn't make any difference. I'm going to see you naked whenever or wherever I want." His eyes narrow on me. "Did you hear me?"

I nod. "Yeah."

When he gives me a sharp look, I decide it's time to push boundaries a little bit. "Yes, sir . That better?"

"Yeah, Renata." He pushes off the wall and heads my way. "Much better. I like it when you obey me. I like it when you submit." He rubs his thumb across the apple of my cheek and down to my lips. "I like it." Then I bite his thumb, and his eyes flare with temper and excitement.

"To think. You're going to be my wife. Who would have expected?"

I turn away. My eyes feel so heavy, and I know it's just exhaustion, but also the weight of carrying what I have for so long. All of it. When I close my eyes, I see my brother's face, and Ollie's—one threatening me with death, the other with life.

The back-and-forth roller coaster of my emotions between the two men is killing me. I'm halfway between waking and sleeping when the smell of fresh food wakes me. The world could be falling down around me, but when I'm hungry, I know only one master. I blink, surprised to find I'm still in the tub.

Ollie sits beside me. Watching.

"Were you making sure I didn't drown?"

"Someone had to."

He did.

"Get out of the tub," he says in a soft tone that disarms me all over again. Heat thrums through me at the low sound of his voice, the primal need and want he isn't even trying to mask.

I step out. Water cascades down my body in rivulets, and Ollie doesn't miss a thing. My nipples pebble under his hard glare. I shiver, and this time, it isn't just fear.

He holds a thick, plush white towel like we're at a hotel, and he's here to serve me. I swallow and lick my lips.

I know better.

"You're the last brother to get married," I say, my voice husky. "Aren't you?"

He's going to want children soon, very soon. It's how the Romanovs operate. My brother is going to get in touch and demand I tell him everything I know. I'll need to have something to give him, but I'm not sure what. "I do wish that you would—" I turn around to face him and stifle a gasp when he's suddenly right in my space, his green eyes burning into me. The towel falls to the floor, forgotten.

Unnecessary.

He grabs my wrists and pins them above my head, backing me up until my back hits the bathroom door. My skin burns under the heat of his gaze.

"No one is watching us in here," he reminds me.

I smirk at him. "Only if your brother is a much bigger creep than I thought."

His mouth descends on mine, branding me, annihilating me. I melt under the heat, his tongue tangling with mine. I reach for his clothes as he reaches for my naked body. His hand fists in my tangled, wet hair. When he pulls away, he grabs my chin in his big, rough hand and holds my gaze.

"Did you betray us?" he growls.

I want to slap him. I want to claw at his beautiful, heartbreakingly handsome face and make him scream. I want to shake him until he sees the truth.

Instead… my voice breaks. My heart aches. I blink back tears of fury and tell him the truth. "You know I didn't."

"Then who took you from here?"

I pinch my lips together. He grabs me by my shoulders and gives me a hard shake. My teeth rattle, but I still manage to glare at him.

"I can't answer that question, and you know it."

He curses in Russian and shakes his head. "I need your body checked. What if you're hiding something on your person?"

"Like in… a body cavity? Oh God. Ew. "

Panic slices through me.

"I could have my brother search you, but I don't want anybody near you. Do you understand?" His hand is on my jaw, his grip firm. "You belong to me, Renata. I was the one who went down to Colombia to find you. I was the one who questioned you. I was the one who bled for you." He shakes me again. "Do you understand me?" he repeats.

My eyes widen, and I nod, not knowing what to say. Tears prick my eyes.

"You're going to be my wife soon, Renata. From now on, I expect you to act like it. Am I clear?" Bright-green eyes hold my gaze with his, the tone of his voice implacable.

When I don't answer right away, his huge palm cracks against my naked ass. I scream, choking on my breath as he shakes me again.

He's losing his mind and is going to snap, a man pushed to his absolute limits.

"You'll do what I say. I know who you're dealing with. Everyone else believes your brother is dead. I know better, don't I?"

Shit.

I look at him pleadingly. If there's any chance we are being watched, I can't risk acknowledging this.

"He's dead," I whisper. I blink, and a tear falls down my cheek. We're all dead. Renata Carerra, the little girl who grew up in Colombia under her parents' thumb. Ollie Romanov, the boy who grew up a homeless scrapper on the streets of New York before the Romanovs took him in. Carlos, the brother who once loved me.

He kisses down the side of my jaw, down to my neck, and bites my shoulder. A moan escapes my lips, and heat blooms between my legs.

"I believe that you were taken against your will," he whispers in my ear. "But I don't know why you're back here and not dead. I don't know what his endgame is, but I know this—anyone who comes near you has to go through me first."

I nod and swallow. "Good girl," he whispers in my ear. "You're going to be punished for disobeying me… for everything." He spins me around to face the door and plants both hands flat on the surface. This is a large, spacious room, but there's not enough air in here, no matter how hard I breathe.

It's too much. I shiver against the door. My fierce determination to survive has protected me in a world that constantly threatened my safety, and I am haunted by feelings of guilt for what I've done. But if I'm a survivor, I will survive again. I will not let Ollie Romanov take all that I am, and I will not let the fear of what my brother will do hold me back. Just minutes ago, I considered ending it all. There's a certain freedom in staring death in the face and not giving a fuck about it.

I have to protect myself. I have to find my brother. I have to make sure that I'm not destroyed in the process. So I tilt my head to the side and catch Ollie's gaze over my shoulder.

My voice is shaky. I don't recognize myself.

"I don't know what you mean. Why don't you clarify it for me?"

Ollie's palm slams against my ass, and heat floods my veins. Again, he spanks me, and I have to swallow the pulse of unharnessed need that filters through my veins.

Spanking kink? Yes, sir.

He spanks me again, this time plunging thick fingers in my pussy before he slaps my ass again. I can't think straight.

He spins me around and pushes me to my knees.

Oh, hell yes.

I war between fear and elation. My heart pounds so hard it threatens to choke me. I want to please him. I want to have this small measure of control. I want to somehow break whatever walls are between us and show him the truth.

His blazing green eyes meet mine as if fueled by fire, a world of unspoken words hanging in the air between us. He's going to punish me—I know this, and a part of me wants him to. I want to feel his dominance and control. I want him to feel my sincerity, to know how badly I want him to believe me. If I can convince him, if I can get him on my side, then that's all that matters.

Nothing else matters. Nothing.

I respond eagerly, my hands trembling as I reach for his belt, unfastening it with swift, deft movements as his fingers rake through my hair and he yanks my head back. Pain skates down my scalp, and my head falls back. I cry out. He takes the belt from my hand and fists the buckle before he shoves my hands away. "Put them behind your back," he orders. He gives me a sharp crack of the belt, the tail end hitting my ass. My heart pounds as I obey, and he reaches for his zipper. I shiver at the sound it makes when he pulls it down.

This is happening.

"I've never done this before," I whisper, hoping he can hear my plea for mercy without making me beg.

I love the satisfied smile that ghosts his lips and the possessive way he holds me even tighter. "I'll teach you," he says quietly, pulling his hot, thick cock out. "And if you don't listen, I'll punish you." He flicks the belt over my ass again to remind me that he can and will.

Jesus. My skin's on fire, my pussy throbbing, and he isn't even touching me.

I've thought about this. Wanted this. The Romanov men are virulent, sensual alpha males, and Ollie is my favorite. The blend of quiet and stern intrigues me, calls to me, and makes my heart beat so much faster.

I want to be the one who ruffles his perfect composure.

"Open," he says in a coaxing whisper. "Lick the tip and suck." At the first taste of his hot heat on my lips, I stifle a moan that mingles with him.

I close my eyes and lose myself to sensation. I lick and suckle, in tune with the way he responds. If he moans and curses, I do it again. He gives me low commands, and I do everything he says. "Like that. Yes. You're doing great. Jesus fucking Christ, you're a natural."

He groans when I lick his veined length, making my way up to the very tip. I lick and suck, then take him in and bob my head up and down, stroking him with my tongue and mouth. I'm so lost to this, the intimacy and connection, I don't realize it's my own moans mingling with his.

"Take me," he growls with a hard snap of the belt. "Fucking swallow."

His cock pulses, and hot, salty come hits the back of my throat. I swallow and suck, eager to please him, eager to take back control. I love the sound of his moans of pleasure. I love the deep groans that are all male. I love knowing that we're connected in this way, that a part of him is infused with me.

I love all of this. My salty tears mingle with the taste of him on my lips.

His heavy hand comes to rest on my head as he pulls out.

"Good girl," he whispers softly, stroking my cheek. "Good girl, Renata. You did exactly what I told you."

Heat flares across my chest. I love it when he praises me. I feel like we've crossed a small bridge, but there's still a yawning cavern we have to cross still, yet we've moved forward.

I did that. I made him groan. I earned his praise.

I did that.

The belt falls to the floor, the metal buckle clanging, as he lifts me in his strong, powerful arms. My legs wrap around him, and his cock, still hard, presses into me.

"Come here," he says softly. My head falls to his shoulder. He holds me and walks me back to the room, laying me on the bed. "My good girl. That's my good girl. Jesus, Renata. I'm sorry," he whispers.

I blink up at him. He believes me. There's not a deceptive bone in my body. I'm resilient and fierce, but a liar? Never. I can't. I won't.

It's partly why I hate that my brother has put me in this position to begin with.

"Come here," he repeats, pulling me to him as if he wants us to be fused together. He holds me and kisses the top of my head. "Spread your legs," he says in a ragged whisper.

I'm throbbing with need, and we both know it's so, so much more than just sex.

I obey him, spread my legs, and he shoves his thick fingers into my pussy. No preamble, no warning, he plunges into my wet core and groans. "You're fucking soaked. You got off on that, didn't you?"

I nod and moan when he thrusts again.

" Khristos, woman." He flicks his thumb over my throbbing clit. My hips buck, my pelvis rises, and I stifle the need to cry out.

"I want to eat you out. I want to taste your pussy," he whispers.

I shake my head. "I want that, too, but right now?—"

"You want me to hold you," he finishes, his tone surprised.

I nod. There's a knot in my throat, and my vision's blurred. I hate how easily he undoes me, but Ollie Romanov is going to be my husband.

For better or for worse.

"Let me taste your nipples," he says. "Move this way, Renata."

My vision grows hazy with the first stroke of his tongue on the hardened bud. He circles my nipple and suckles, and a spasm of absolute bliss flashes through me. Oh my God.

It seems like he's everywhere at once—his mouth at my nipple, one hand between my legs. It's hot and consuming, and I'm on the cusp of coming when he comes to a sudden stop.

"Beg me. Fucking beg me as if your life depends on it," he commands.

"Please," I whisper. "Fucking hell, Ollie, please?—"

He gives me one powerful stroke as he sucks my nipples, then freezes again. I'm right there, right on the edge, about to explode, and he's taking his sweet time.

"Ollie! Jesus, please ," I sob.

"Are you going to be a good girl?" he asks, his hot breath on my nipple the most divine torture.

"Yes," I promise. "Fucking yes !"

"That's it, baby," he says, licking my nipple again. "Come on my hand, Renata. Come, baby."

Another stroke of his tongue to my nipple, perfect pressure to my clit, and I explode into ecstasy. I scream with pleasure, my body writhing next to his, the power of my climax making it impossible to even breathe. He strokes until I come back down, and my panting slows. Another stroke and it's nearly painful.

"Okay," I whisper. "Please…"

He gives me another stroke. I'm so sensitive my hips buck.

"Remember who owns you, Renata," he whispers darkly with another stroke on my too-sensitive clit.

"Ollie!"

He strokes again and again, and I can't take it anymore. It's too much, and I'm too sensitive.

"Lean into it. Tell me you'll obey me. Promise me, Renata."

"I will," I say, my voice breaking.

He bends and bites my nipple, and a second wave of pleasure floods me, this one sweeter, more intense, and so powerful my muscles tense beneath him as I scream with pleasure. "I promise," I say weakly.

Ollie bends and slows his stroking. I sigh, and my eyes flutter closed. I'm exhausted. Spent. And for some reason I can't even explain myself… I wouldn't have it any other way.

If only we could stay here. Right here, in this tiny space of safety, cocooned in each other. But I know that's only a dream… only a wistful, wishful dream.