Chapter 14 - Igor

I step off the elevator and stop.

Time stops.

I see Arina with her disheveled clothes and hair, and I see red. I stride to her and kneel beside her. "What happened?"

I look up Matvey for an explanation.

"The guy she was negotiating with tried to attack her. He did attack her." Blood pounds in my ears. I stroke her hair gently and stand up.

I walk through the door with Matvey on my heels and look at the man. I see Arina scratched his face.

Good girl.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"Peter Richardson. That bitch attacked…"

My glare silences him, and he holds his hand up. "She attacked me. I just retaliated."

"You attacked my wife," I growl. "That is unforgivable."

I look at Matvey. "Cancel all contracts with him, take him to a quieter part of town, and teach him a lesson."

"You can't do that," Richardson says.

"Oh, can't I?" I ask. I turn and leave and kneel down by Arina. "It's going to be okay."

I scoop her into my arms, and she slides her arms around my neck. I carry her to the elevator. No one tries to stop me.

She rests her head against my shoulder and sniffs, and I hold her tighter.

Once out of the hotel, despite the staring looks we get, I climb into the car with her in my arms. I keep her on my lap. She's curled up. I've never seen her more vulnerable.

"We don't have to talk about it," I whisper.

She nods slowly but doesn't say anything.

The drive back to the estate seems like the longest one I've ever taken.

My thumb strokes her back softly, and I shift her. She clings closer to me, and my heart almost shatters. She's a strong woman, a resilient woman. One of the things that attracts me the most to her is her fiery spirit.

Now, she feels so defeated. I can't imagine what it would be like to think a man was going to rape you.

We reach the estate, and with some acrobatics, I carefully get her out of the car and carry her into the house. Marie comes running, and I look at her. "Draw a hot bath."

She hurries ahead of me as I carry Arina up the stairs to our bedroom. I try to put her on the bed, but she tenses up. So, I sit down with her on my lap.

"I've drawn you a hot bath," I murmur.

"I heard," she whispers. "I don't know if I want one."

"I'm so sorry. This is my fault. I shouldn't have let you go without me." I cradle her against me. I don't think I've ever been this soft with a woman before. "Matvey will sort him out."

"Will he kill him?" she asks quietly.

"Do you want me to tell him to?" I ask, stroking her hair with my free hand.

She shakes her head and I give her a small smile. Even after everything, she has a kind heart. It's more than I can say for that twit.

"Do you want me to leave?" I ask. "Give you some time alone?"

"Not yet," she murmurs. "You make me feel safe."

I rock her slightly, kissing her head.

I've never felt this way about anyone in my life. I remember in Russia, when I first tried to take a wife, many women fought for my attention. They wanted my money and my power.

That's all.

Arina didn't ask for any of it.

I didn't care about the women in Russia. I'd fuck them for a couple of weeks, and when they got too big for their boots, I'd toss them out. I didn't have time for arrogant bitches.

I guess I've always really wanted a connection—something my parents shared.

Marie comes to us. "The bath is drawn." She gives a little nod and leaves.

"Do you want me to wait here while you bathe?" I ask quietly. "Just tell me what you want, and I'll take care of you."

She slowly disentangles herself from my arms and stands up. "Come in five minutes."

She leaves, and I watch her. She's in shock; that much I can tell. Right now, she needs me to care for her and look after her. She needs a soft hand that won't hurt her. I can't believe that fucker tried to take advantage of her.

I should have him killed to send a clear message about people touching my wife.

I wait five minutes, and then I get up. I lay my suit jacket across the back of the sofa and undo my tie, leaving it on the seat. I roll my sleeves up and walk into the bathroom.

Arina is sitting in the hot bubble bath, hugging her knees.

I kneel beside her and stroke her back gently.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Yes," she says softly. "But I don't have the words."

"Take your time," I soothe her. "I'm not going anywhere."

"He was going to rape me. If Matvey hadn't come, he would have raped me. I wasn't strong enough to get away from him," she sniffs, and I see tears forming in her eyes.

I smooth down her hair. I pick up the sponge and lather it with soap before I wash her back. It's all I can think to do in a situation like this.

"He grabbed my hair. It hurt so bad," her voice cracks slightly. "When he tried to pull my head into his crotch, I head-butted him." She sniffs again.

"Good girl," I murmur. "He deserved it."

"I scratched his face," she says.

"You should have taken his eyes out," I comment.

I pick up a jug and fill it with water. "Tilt your head back."

She closes her eyes and listens to me. I wet her hair and got the shampoo. I wash her hair gently as we sit in silence. I don't want to break the softness of this moment.

I rinse her hair gently. My hands feel too big to be doing such a delicate task.

I condition her hair and leave it in, sitting beside her while she washes the rest of her body.

"This isn't your fault," I finally say. "None of this is your fault. He took advantage of a situation when you were vulnerable."

"How do you know it's not my fault? He said I asked for it the way I dressed." She bursts into tears, and I quickly get onto my knees and rub her back.

"I've seen how you dress, and it's professional," I say earnestly. "Nothing you wore was provocative."

She rubs her nose and sniffs, shivering slightly.

"I didn't ask for it," she says resolutely. She must be coming out of the shock. "I didn't. He's a fucking scumbag for attacking me."

"He is," I agree, stroking her back. "Let's rinse your hair."

"Do you do this for every woman in your life who gets attacked?" she asks quietly, tipping her head back.

"I've never done this in my life," I comment. "To be honest, I don't even know what to do. I just want to make you feel better."

She falls silent for a moment before she says, "Were there girls before me? In Russia?"

"I slept with women," I look into her eyes. "But that was all. I just slept with them. I never felt anything half as intense as I feel for you. There's something about you that just… intoxicates me."

She looks away and straightens up as I finish rinsing her hair.

She points to the shower. "There's a hair mask there. It's a tub. Can you get it? My hair is going to be dry if I don't take care of it."

I get up and find the tub. I bring it back. "What do I do? Just massage it in?"

"Yes," she says. "You don't have to if you don't want to."

"I am actually enjoying myself," I chuckle and she smiles.

That smile warms my heart.

I massage the mask into her hair, and she hugs her legs.

"I'm glad Matvey got to you in time," I say quietly. "He's not all bad, really. He has his uses."

"He was very kind to me," she says, as though she still doesn't believe it. "What about Yvonne? She was so worried."

"I have no doubt she is helping Matvey inflict whatever punishment they deem worthy on that asshole. You don't have to stress about it."

She rests her cheek on her knees and looks at me. "You've never done that to me. Made me feel… cheap like that."

"I would hope not," I say with a frown. "You're my wife, not some whore."

"Even if we didn't have a traditional fall-in-love wedding?" she asks.

"How do you know I haven't fallen in love with you?" I say quietly, stroking her hair again. "Do I need to rinse this out?"

"Yes," she tips her head back.

I rinse her hair and get up. "The water is getting cold. I can let in more hot water or get you a towel."

"Towel, please," she stands up.

I take in her nakedness, but I don't do anything about it except hold out a towel. She steps out, and I wrap it around her before I scoop her up, carry her back to the bed, and set her down.

"Now there's no trace of that asshole left on you," I say as I sit her down on the edge.

"What does it feel like? To know you can order someone to be killed if they cross you?" she asks. "What do you do with that kind of power?"

"I don't just have people killed left, right, and center," I say thoughtfully. "But I wanted to kill that guy. I won't lie. It's probably best I left it to Matvey."

We sit in silence for a moment, and I glance at the clock on the wall. "Are you hungry? You missed lunch, and it's almost dinner."

"No, I don't have an appetite," she responds. She looks at me. "Thank you for worrying about me so much."

"It's my duty," I smile. I want to kiss her so badly. I want to hold her, kiss her, and be with her in such a way that she forgets that this ever happened.

I can't, though. I can't make her feel as though she has to be with me because I saved her. I won't do that to her. I want her to come with me out of her own choice. That's why I haven't initiated sex with her again.

I stand up and look around. "I'll let you get dressed." I reach over her, pick up the air conditioning remote, and turn it on warm. "And that's so you don't get cold while you dress."

I set the remote down and turn to leave, but I feel her hand grab mine. "Please don't."

I look at her. She's looking up at me pleadingly.

I stroke her face. "I'm not going far. Just to my office."

"Don't leave me alone," she says with shining eyes.

I sit back down and let her hold my hand. She traces circles in my palm.

"I will do whatever you want," I say quietly. "Just tell me what it is, and I'm all yours."

"Can we lie together?" she asks.

I nod and watch her scoot up the bed and curl up. I get up, go to the other side of the bed, and lie down. After a moment, she turns around and rests her head on my chest. I stroke her hair again, as that seems to soothe her the most.

She traces a lazy circle on my chest around one particular scar. I watch her hand and don't realize she's looking directly at me until she leans up and kisses my lips softly.