6. Inessa

The wooden floor in front of Vlad's office is going to have deep grooves in it from my pacing. I heard him throwing up all night and I've spent a week observing him, making it all the more noticeable.

He never eats a meal, and his shoulders tense whenever he smells food. He'll avoid looking at it and he left the kitchen when Viktor and Tali were making their chocolate lava cakes.

I want to crawl inside his head and make it better.

There's no one else inside his office and my hand keeps hesitating on the handle. I won't just be pushing inside his space, but I will also force myself into the depths of what he keeps hidden.Hearing him retch over cake, not even a full slice but four spoonfuls, was heartbreaking. Seeing him continuously avoid food while questioning how he's maintaining his body is mental gymnastics that leaves me with a headache. His physique is pure muscle, he trains harder every day, and there's only so much strain the body can take. Especially if you don't fuel it.

Blowing out a breath like I'm readying for a fight, I weakly knock on the door. His bark telling me to enter makes me feel better and worse somehow. It softens when he sees it's me and his icy eyes light up with humor.

"What have you done with my wife? She never knocks."

My smile is forced, and I rush out, "Vlad, can I talk to you?"

He turns rigid, scanning me from head to toe and nods once. My feet move, but they're too slow, and I wipe my hands on my thighs. A crease forms between his brows as I lower into the seat opposite him, and I focus on it.

"Do you have an eating disorder?"

My voice is too quiet. Hesitant and weak when I'm normally shouting back at him.It's the only explanation I can find for his behavior. I've spoken to the therapists we work with at Steorra, and they'll be able to help him. It's not healthy for him to starve, and it's probably the reason for his violence.

The crease deepens and I open my mouth to repeat myself, but he shakes his head, cutting me off. I don't know if it's an answer or an order. Rolling back from the desk, he opens one arm and speaks softly.

"Come here, meelaya."

I round the desk at a normal pace. He curls his arm around my hips and pulls me closer to sit on his thigh. I don't want to force him to talk about something, but there's only so much self-destruction a person can witness idly before they become part of the problem.

I cup his cheek and fit our foreheads together, hoping he can see everything I won't voice. He softens as I whisper, "You don't ever eat more than a few bites, and I heard you throwing up."

His dumbass mouth opens, and he's an obtuse asshole.

"I'm a man."

My voice hardens, getting pissed as I attempt to move back.

"And I'm a woman. I don't see what that has to do with my question."

Dickhead.

He smiles as he lifts my hand and presses his lips to the inside of my wrist, forcing me to soften. He doesn't look away from me as he lies, "Food is for energy. I don't need to stuff my face like Vitali."

His need to only do things for a purpose is infuriating. Vlad will fuck me because he wants me pregnant as per the agreement. He spends time with his family because they need him. He sits in his office, hiding away from everyone because it ensures his position. There's nothing in his life that's only for him or for any enjoyment.

There's more to his reasoning for avoiding eating, I can see it in his eyes, but he doesn't tell me. So, I try to maneuver around the mental blockades he puts up.

"Do you not like certain textures or flavors? I'll tell whoever cooks to avoid them."

The asshole laughs at me. It's not small, despite him trying to mute it. He stares at me and holds my chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"Who do you think cooks, meelaya?" he asks around a smirk.

I've never seen a chef or anyone in the house, but everything is always stocked, and the meals are pre-prepared. Even the laundry is done meticulously.So, I shrug.

Grandfather always had Dariya and I assumed that there was someone else here hidden away by the devil. He pulls me forward and kisses the tip of my nose.

"Still a princess." He flexes being an arrogant ass as I push against his abs at the demotion. Then muddles my brain with his confession. "You're going to tell me to avoid making things I don't like?"

I'm sure I've heard wrong. Vlad doesn't cook, he just plots and kills. Pressing my palms on his chest so he's flat against the chair, I straddle his thighs. I can't keep the disbelief out of my voice, and it sounds like an accusation.

"You make everyone's food?"

My eyes narrow as I search his features for a tell. He lies too easily. I know I'll most likely not find one, but it doesn't stop me looking for it, for some twitch or chink in his armor.

The chair rolls forward as he cages me in with his legs under the desk and he combs his fingers through my hair so the strands flow down my back. His lips fall into their usual smirk, but some of the heat is missing as he loosely holds my neck.

"Did you think there were fairies appearing in the middle of the night to cook and clean?"

I nod because that seems more likely than the devil being domesticated. He laughs lightly and cups my ear to massage circles against my scalp with the tips of his fingers.

It takes too long for my brain to pick up what he said fully with the soothing motion.

"Who does the laundry?"

It's stupid that I'm already embarrassed at the thought of Vlad touching my period panties when he's the one removing them from my body. But it's different without the lustful lens of the moment. There's no desire dimming everything, and my cheeks burn, already knowing the answer as his smirk widens.

He can never be a normal fucking person and asks softly, "Scared I've seen your skid marks?"

I swear to God, people want to kill him just for his mouth alone. I cross my arms over my chest and my voice is high-pitched, trying to argue with him while not giving in because he's still massaging my scalp.

"I don't have those."

My entire body is shaking from the force of his laugh, it's so mesmerizing seeing him come to life. He isn't a grump like Dima, who just grumbles at people, but he's reserved when he's not home. When he is here and allows himself to be social, he makes the others laugh and actually has a personality. Even if his humor is rooted in violence and stupid fucking comments. But his laugh is full of life.

Kissing my cheek, he moves to my lips and curls his hand around my nape.

"I was joking, moya koroleva."

Humming because he's still laughing, he presses his lips to mine which are set in a hard line. When I don't move, he sits back and cups my jaw. His thumb taps against my lips without a pattern, and he presses his other hand between my thighs with a threat.

"If these lips don't open for me, I'll make sure you're walking bow-legged at your event tonight."

Anger has me moving forward, and I bite his bottom lip, technically doing what he said. I know he's going to rage and quickly sit on top of his desk before I let go.

I'm acting like a child as I slide back and jump off the wood before he can grab me to fulfill his threat that we will both very much enjoy. My feet nearly pause as I remember an old couple who visited Steorra. They always said you know a relationship will last when they make you feel young. You're giddy and excited but also playful. That thought slams into me as I leave Vlad's office. The woman kept reiterating that finding a man who makes the kid you happy while the adult you sings, is the secret to a long life. Vlad is that person, but I'm destined for a short life. I can't admit my feelings to someone who'll only see them as a weakness or as me acting outside the terms of our agreement.

Nerves flood my bloodstream as I go to our floor to get ready. I've never had the Vartanovs near Steorra other than the one time Vlad decided to randomly turn up. If they cause a war, I'll kill them myself, with the heads of the Conglomerate being in full attendance. Verelli may be cordial due to his reduced proximity with Grandfather and Alessi will most likely be the same. But they're allies with the Albanians. If these idiots who have become my family do anything tonight, they'll be inviting war.

I strip down, ready to change. But there's no pre-planned outfit since I usually have one delivered to fit the theme. But I forgot with Vlad's disappearing act. I stand in the closet, staring at my clothes like one of the dresses will magically scream they're the right one. But the devil appears over my shoulder.

"Is this how you're planning on raising money, meelaya?"he asks.

My skin heats as he stands at my back, making sure we don't touch.

It intensifies as he rakes his eyes over my nearly naked body with a smirk. There's no hint of jealousy and I wish there was. I want Vlad to turn into a caveman and beat his chest, shouting mine. I keep looking at the dresses hung up despite the way I'm begging for the emotion.

"I can't find anything to wear, so I might go like this."

I'm too transparent and he wraps his arm around my middle, grinding into my ass without giving me what I want.Flattening his palm on my stomach, he slowly massages down until he cups between my thighs and nips my neck with his teeth. His deep voice rumbles through his chest into my back and he flexes his bicep so I can feel it against my arm.

"There are no marks on your body for anyone to imagine what I do to you, and you are breathtaking, so go ahead."

Rather than focus on the fact he has complimented me for once, I let lust guide me.

"You don't care if other people see me naked and picture their own marks?"

His arm tightens around me, and he lifts me off my feet to walk to the large mirror opposite the window. His hand doesn't move from between my thighs, and the pressure of my body weight being held at that one point is relief. But the image staring back at me is pure torture. The sharp suit and devilish smirk against my plain everything. I don't even have lingerie on, just a nude, boring bra and matching panties, so they don't show through whatever dress I eventually pick.

Is this how people see us? How Vlad sees me? The plain, the boring, the unforgettable. It makes sense, and I suddenly can't meet my own reflection.

He notices the change. All deviant creatures are able to sniff out a person's weakness so it shouldn't be a surprise. It's how they drag them to hell after all. He sets me on my feet and his hand moves in my periphery to tilt my chin up, forcing me to look at myself.

"Never lower your head. You're a Vartanova, and you will make everyone else bow."

I'm being petulant and continue begging him as I mumble, "Hard to do that when I don't exist."

His fingers flex on my chin and his tone hardens as he straightens to stand as a wall at my back.

"You exist and take up more space than you should. Don't give anyone power over you."

I'm usually good at ignoring my childhood and refusing to carry that resentment with me. I can feel it more closely today than any other day. It's probably because it's my mother's birthday. She never failed to say the same thing when I'd give her a gift.

Oh, I forgot you were here.

She'd act shocked every year until I wasn't allowed to live with them anymore. I sink back into Vlad's chest, and he just holds me, waiting for the moment to pass.

His hand loosens around my jaw when I straighten my spine, and my chin doesn't gravitate to my chest. But he doesn't remove his touch from me entirely. He ghosts the tip of his middle finger below my collarbone and picks up my hand bearing his mark. The rings don't fully hide the insignia, and he toys with them as he stares at me through the mirror, his eyes following the pattern below my collarbone.

"Did this hurt, meelaya?"

I have to look at my chest, expecting there to be some wound I'm unaware of, but he squeezes my ring finger, indicating what he's talking about.

The brand didn't hurt when he applied it, the healing was a bitch, and it was itchy. But I can't tell him that, it's a weakness in his eyes. I stand taller and project strength.

"No."

He hums and dips his head to kiss up my neck, causing my lids to droop. His voice drops to a deep whisper that floats right into my ear.

"You can do whatever you want, moya koroleva. Dress however you want to, if anyone touches you, they have a death wish, and I'm more than equipped to oblige."

He's probably hoping for a reasonable excuse to murder. My voice sounds fake to my own ears, with desire coating my vocal cords as I push out.

"So romantic when you talk murder to me."

Air brushes my hypersensitive skin as he moves back down my neck to my shoulder.

"You don't want roses and candles. You want blood and ash, the dirt and violence, because you know that's the only way you'd become a true equal. Not by being the same as me, but because you can match me in the opposite."

I need to get dressed but I can't physically pull away and try to force him to do it for me as I ignore the feelings he stirs inside of me.

"What about if they masturbate to the memory of me?"

He hates that word, and I can't hide my laugh as he looks at me through the mirror with disgust written on his features.

"Your dirty talk is horrible, meelaya, we'll practice tonight."

Feigning shock, I hug his arms around me. He straightens and rests his chin on my crown.

"Oh, so you wouldn't like it if I said you have a very big erection?"

The disgust deepens, and I keep adding random words using the anatomically correct names for our parts.

"What about, you have a nice penis?"

With each word, he shakes his head, but he doesn't move away, and I lean back, losing steam on the final one.

"What if I said I want you to fill my womb?"

The disgust is chased away with fire as he moves closer, erasing the space that didn't exist between our bodies. He flattens his hand on my stomach and kisses my crown.

"That's what I've been trying to do, meely moy."

My good mood disappears with the topic of our deadline.That's what it is, a line to mark the death of the life I've become accustomed to. I like being here, around this family that has slowly become my own, rather than hiding in my room at Grandfather's house.

Focusing on his biceps to make myself feel better, my question is low, not really wanting to hear the answer.

"What happens when you do?"

He shutters his emotions, and he speaks against my hair.

"You'll have the option to live whatever life you want." He kisses my shoulder and his voice lowers. "Wherever you want."

I stoke across his forearms, forcing him to hug me tighter, knowing his next answer can break me.

"What if I want to stay here?"

His smile is slow over the top of my head, and I don't need to force the hold as he crosses his arms around me and allows me to breathe.

"Then that's where you'll stay."

I don't trust the reflection and look over my shoulder, but he plants the softest kiss on my lips, preventing me from searching for deceit. I'm smiling like I've been given the moon; he can feel it and he flattens his palm over my stomach. The Vartanovs are harder to obtain than that piece of rock, so it's justified. I enjoy living with them and it feels natural for me to be around his brothers, but the person I need to be around is Vlad. His presence is bigger than the rest and he cups my throat to position my head exactly how he wants it.

I want to feel him and turn in his arms. His fingers toy with the thin waistband of my panties, and the snap doesn't touch my skin. Neither does his hand as they fall away, and something silky moves across my cheek. Reluctantly moving back to see what it is, Vlad is a freak and keeps stroking my cheek with a pair of red, silk panties I do not fucking own. The little label showing they're brand new has me relaxing slightly, but then he opens his mouth.

"Wear these while you get ready, and think of me, meelaya."

His stupid, idiotic smirk touches my skin, distracting me from the way he hooks the material under my bra strap before he whispers, "They're yours," then he stalks away, and I'm sure there's a spring in his step.