18. ISABELLA

Chapter 18

ISABELLA

Upon landing in Toronto, Andrey pulls me into his arms, capturing my lips in a passionate kiss. His naughty whispered promises for later send a shiver down my spine, making my core clench with anticipation.

We’re staying overnight in a luxury hotel. After a delicious meal at a Toronto restaurant, we decide to stroll through the city, enjoying the brisk evening air.

The restaurant is close, just a short distance from the hotel. It is also a convenient walk to the bank, which I need to go to tomorrow. Everything I need is in a safety deposit box in there and we arrived in Toronto too late for the banks.

The bank I need is conveniently located behind a women’s shelter. A shelter I helped develop and know everyone who works there—the women who are loyal to me.

I didn’t understand the meaning of loyalty, trust, and deception as much as I have over these past eight weeks. I have a decoy go bag stashed at the women’s shelter. The key to my safety deposit box is hidden in a secret compartment in that duffel bag. A sliver of guilt slices through me for deceiving Andrey about where I was really going in the morning.

I push the guilt aside, reminding myself who Andrey really is and that I don’t see a future for us. He won’t change, and I don’t want to live like this. I know I can never accept a life of crime and live in his world. But that’s a problem for tomorrow. I can enjoy tonight and I know tonight, even though he won’t admit it, Andrey needs me.

I’ve seen the flicker of pain that keeps flashing in his eyes every time he checks his phone as if waiting for his mother to call and let him know she’s done what she had to do. His father died from being beaten to an inch of his life and left to die. How Ivan even managed to get to the Velvet Lounge in the condition Andrey described to me is a fucking miracle.

How Grace, my mother, and every other woman married or born into this copes with living in this world I can’t understand. Even when I didn’t know I was born into this world of Andrey’s, it had already taken too much from me. I lost my mother and eighteen years with my brother.

This is not a life for a child. And I have two to protect now. I’m beginning to understand why my father built that pseudo-world for me—he wanted me to have a small slice of a normal life. I don’t want this for my kids.

Grace Belov fell apart when her son was taken. I can’t imagine that kind of pain. I know life is unpredictable, but Andrey’s world magnifies the risks, and now she’s lost her husband in the most horrific of ways and left with a choice that will forever haunt her because even though the doctors tell you so, you just never know if you did the right thing or not, pulling that plug.

As soon as Andrey told me about his father, I knew what had to be done. Still, as we walk hand in hand, I’m struck by how normal and comfortable it feels to be with Andrey—it’s actually quite intoxicating. He can be so charming and such a good listener. Then there is the underlying current of sexual tension that has been torturing me since we landed.

We stop in front of a shop window displaying baby products. My heart jolts with more guilt. I imagine what it would be like if Andrey weren’t a Bratva boss and I weren’t a mafia princess.

Fuck! I still can’t get used to thinking of myself that way. Or my father as a mob boss, my mother and brother as Bratva. It’s like a bad soap opera.

I half expect a stranger to approach, claiming to be a long-lost relative. Or maybe I’ve slipped into an alternate dimension and lost my memory of my real life. Maybe in another reality, I’m Isabella Moretti, an Italian opera singer. I snort softly at the thought. I can’t even sing normally, let alone as an opera singer.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Andrey’s voice is close to my ear and sends a shiver down my spine.

“I was just imagining myself as an Italian opera singer.”

“Oh!” His brows shoot up, genuine amazement lighting up his face. “That’s rather a random thought.”

“I do this random thought thing when I’m stressed, anxious, or running for my life and keeping an eye out for a messenger to bring me some doomsday device,” I say, trying to keep my tone light.

“You should be an author,” Andrey comments, admiration lacing his voice. “You have quite the imagination.”

A small smile tugs at my lips, but it quickly fades. “Growing up as a prisoner in my own home wasn’t easy.” I snuggle closer to Andrey’s warmth. “Constantly under surveillance, interacting only with bodyguards and my eccentric best friend... my mind became my escape.”

“Our father may have been strict,” Andrey says, squeezing my hand gently, “but it was nothing compared to what you went through.”

I realize his words are meant to comfort me, but they only highlight the differences between us—our upbringing and views.

“At least you knew who you really were. The world you were born into was never hidden from you.”

“When this is all over,” Andrey promises, “I’ll make some of your imaginings come true.”

My heart flutters at the sweetness of his words, but deep down, I know they are empty promises. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” I warn him, a wry smile playing on my lips.

Andrey’s expression darkens. “I promised you more freedom after the twins were born,” he reminds me, his voice hardening. “Are you saying I’m not a man of my word?”

“I’m saying that we both know that once this is over and we’re no longer on the run, you’ll go back to being Andrey Belov, the big bad controlling Bratva boss.” My gaze shifts past him, locking onto a shop window filled with colorful baby clothes. “And once you retake your throne, where does that leave me...” My words trail off, my thoughts picking up where they left off: as just another one of your possessions?

“You’re my wife,” Andrey declares. “Isabella Belov, my queen.”

“I never wanted to be a queen,” I tell him. “I just wanted to be Isabella exploring the world and trying to figure out my place in it.”

“Your place is with me,” Andrey insists. “And as a mother to our babies.”

My eyes return to the baby shop window. My mind screams at me— What I want is no longer as important as the life growing inside me. Everything I do now is to keep them safe and ensure they have a good life.

“I don’t know.” My voice drops, my hands splaying over my belly. “I want to try.”

“Then give me a year after the twins are born,” Andrey says. “Let’s see if we can make it work.”

“I’ve been in your world for eight weeks, and all I’ve done is run from a faceless enemy that’s after my mother’s legacy and our babies,” I remind him. “I don’t know if I can.”

“Let me show you that not all of our world is as dark as it seems.” His voice is soft and enticing. His eyes darken with a primal desire. “But you’ll need to trust my way of doing things to completely immerse yourself in our world.”

“What if I can’t?”

Andrey stares at me, his eyes intense, as if trying to see into my soul. I really hope he can’t because if he knew what was going on in there, he’d lock me in a room until our babies were born.

“For our unborn children’s sake, at least try,” he implores. “I’m trying, Isabella. Trying to give you enough space to breathe and ease you into this life.”

“Ease me into this life?” My eyes widen. “I’ve been on the run since I found out who I was.”

“Sometimes being thrown into the deep end is the best way to learn to swim,” Andrey points out.

“I don’t feel like I’m being taught to swim,” I tell him. “I feel like I’ve gone from one prison cell to another.”

Andrey’s eyes fill with emotion and a hint of anger at my words. “Is that how you see our life together?” he asks, his tone accusing. “As a prison?”

My heart aches, looking into his eyes. “Isn’t it?” I reply honestly, feeling conflicted and torn inside. “All I ever get are empty promises of freedom as a way of controlling me. My entire life, and even now, I feel like I’m serving a life sentence.” My jaw clenches. “I guess at least now I know why—for being born a Moretti—a mafia princess and now a Pakhan’s wife.”

The moment those words leave my lips, I see a flicker of hurt in Andrey’s eyes. His jaw tightens, and without a word, he grips my wrist and pulls me along the sidewalk, his pace brisk and determined.

The cool evening air whips around us, carrying the scent of the city—a mix of car exhaust, street food, and the faintest hint of blooming flowers from a nearby park.

“Andrey, where are we going?” I ask, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity.

“Back to the hotel,” he responds, his voice a low growl. “If you want me to trust you, give you more freedom.” He stops and turns to me. “Then you need to trust me. Trust has to be a two-way thing, or it means nothing.”

We reach the hotel quickly, his grip on my wrist never loosening. He practically drags me through the lobby, ignoring the curious glances of other guests. He slams the elevator button, and the door dings open instantly.

We step inside, and as soon as the doors slide shut, Andrey pushes me against the wall, his body pressing into mine. He cups my face, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. “I’ve seen the darkness in you, Isabella. I’ve touched it. I feel it quiver through you every time I fuck you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear. “Give in to it and submit yourself to me. Let me teach you my ways.”

His hands roam over my body, and I feel his hard cock pressing firmly against my stomach, sending shivers through me. “Oh, God,” I gasp, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Why is it that every time you touch me, I start to burn?”

“Because we have chemistry,” Andrey growls, his hands squeezing my breasts through the soft material of my dress, the lace of my bra rubbing tantalizingly against my nipples. “There are all kinds of freedom, Isabella. Let me help you discover yours.”

“What other kind of freedom is there?” I ask, my fingers tangling in his thick hair as I pull him closer, needing more of him.

“Freedom to be yourself, to explore paths you never thought possible, unshackled by societal norms.” He grinds his hips into me, his arousal moving rhythmically against me.

“And how would you teach me that?” My mind is a whirlwind of sensation.

My body instinctively molded to his, the fabric of my dress barely a barrier as his muscular thigh wedged itself between my trembling legs. The friction of his pants against my sensitive flesh sent sparks of desire shooting through me, and I couldn’t help but rock my hips, grinding against him like a wanton creature.

“Do you feel that Isabella?” Andrey’s warm breath blew into my ear. “The longing to just let go and grind yourself on my leg and ride it?”

I whimpered, my breath coming in short gasps as I nodded, unable to form words. Andrey presses his leg more firmly against my sensitive mound and at the same time hits the red button bringing the elevator to a stop.

“Do you want to cum all over my leg, princess?” His lips tease mine and his hands squeeze and tease my breasts. He slowly starts to move his leg. “I can feel how wet you are as your juices are seeping onto me.”

“I…” I swallow, mesmerized by him and getting trapped by my traitorous flesh.

“Isabella!” Andrey’s voice is soft but commanding. “Are you ready to get a lesson in trust?”

He starts to move his leg faster, and I can’t help it. I need release, and he’s been teasing me since we landed in Toronto. I start grinding into him, but he pulls his leg away so abruptly I nearly land on my knees. Andrey releases the elevator, and it starts to move.

I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach as I cry out, half in shame and half with need.

“Why?” I ask, feeling close to tears.

“You need to let go of your fears and inhibitions,” he murmurs. Kissing me more gently now before moving his lips over my jaw until his breath is hot against my ear. “I want to show you that while our way of life may differ from the conventional, it can be just as pleasurable as it is intense.”

As I Lean against the cool mirror of the elevator, my chest is rising and falling like I just ran a marathon. My body is sparking with aching need.

“Your world is full of brutality and chaos,” I pant.

“It’s about more than just brutality—it’s about passion and liberation.” His hand shoots out so fast I hardly see it coming as they grip my hips.

He spins me around, his hands gripping my hips, pulling me against his hard-on, making my pussy ache even more.

“Andrey…” I groan. “Please…”

“Embrace your darkness, princess. Surrender to it—let me guide you through it.” He looks at me in the elevator mirror, holding my desire-hazed eyes with his. “Submission isn’t about weakness. It’s about mastering control over yourself.”

The words echo in my mind, their meaning twisting and turning with every beat of my racing heart. As the elevator jolts to a stop on our floor, I’m overwhelmed by a whirlwind of sensations.

“You have nothing to lose. Like you said, we’re on the run. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone,” Andrey whispers. “Live in the moment—this moment.”

My body is caught between a powerful draw towards him and a fear that clutches at my insides. With every step toward the room, my thoughts spiral deeper into turmoil. Andrey’s presence is magnetic, each touch a revelation of the raw, untamed desires I’ve kept hidden.

My mind rebels, screaming that this is madness, that yielding to these dark impulses might be my undoing. The web that traps me in this world I’ve been born into but never entirely been a part of.

Yet, a part of me—an aching, yearning part—aches to surrender, to explore this forbidden edge that he’s offering.

When we reach the bedroom door, Andrey pins me against it, his gaze intense, stripping away any pretense. His eyes bore into mine with a relentless force. “What’s it going to be, princess?”