Chapter 6 - Raisa

“Ugh.” I feel myself waking up, and the headache pressing against my temple as I roll over in bed. Opening my eyes, I blink a few times, then bolt up in shock—remembering everything.

Sitting on the bed in his guest room my heart is beating heavily. Waking up instantly stressed out is a horrible feeling.

I look down at my legs and the blanket that has fallen off me, lying around my waist now.

I know I didn’t climb under the blankets last night. Oleg must have come in to check on me after I’d passed out.

I tried so hard to stay awake, but my eyes were so heavy. I was so exhausted.

I can’t believe I fell asleep.

That he put a blanket over me.

I bite my lower lip, pulling the blanket to the side and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.

My head really is throbbing. I need a painkiller. Stress always gives me a headache and this is probably the most stressful situation I’ve been in.

At least—I think—he doesn’t want me dead or anything. He obviously has some plan to use me as a bargaining chip for something—something he needs or wants from my brothers.

I sigh and rub my eyes.

Standing up, I pull my dress straight. I wish it wasn’t so short.

I wander through to the ensuite bathroom linked to the guest bedroom. In it I find a fresh towel and a folded pile of clothing.

A pair of jeans, a crop top, a white hoodie and some sneakers—and fresh underwear. Lace . He’s got a fucking cheek buying me lace underwear.

I sigh and flick the shower on.

Kidnapped or not—I need a hot shower. I still smell smokey from that club and I feel gross. I think I still have grass in my hair from my failed attempt at escaping last night.

Oh my word.

Last night.

Images flash through my mind of him lying on top of me—my legs spread around him and his hand over my mouth.

Fuck—it was so kinky—dammit—I hate the fact that I was so turned on by it then and just the thought of it now is making me feel all hot and bothered again.

A shower will clear my mind, wake me up and hopefully give me some fresh perspective on how to handle this situation.

The shampoo and conditioner in the shower are definitely a girls' brand. I can see the bottle is new so it makes sense that he bought this for me.

It’s odd—to be kidnapped by someone who is thoughtful.

The hot water runs over my skin and I instantly feel better.

I stand under the running water, soaping myself, washing my hair, and letting it massage the tension from my muscles.

My guess is that Oleg will already have contacted my brothers and started negotiations. That means that my brothers will already be working to get me home.

All I want to do is get home.

It’s all that matters to me right now.

I dry off, sweep my damp hair up into a bun on top of my head, and get dressed. Oleg has provided everything I need in the bathroom—so when I am done, I feel so much better. Which is a relief.

I peak out of the bedroom door. Looking up and down the passage I find no one there.

Maybe I can try to escape again. Last night it was dark and I was tired and panicked. This morning might be much easier.

I want to get to my brothers and warn them about what the Dubrovs are really like—what they are capable of. I know my brothers have been causing some trouble around the city—making some noise—but I don’t think they fully understand who they are up against.

I remember there being a big sun room at the end of the passage upstairs here. I run as quietly as possible towards it.

There was a big balcony outside it, and maybe if I can get onto the balcony, I can make it down into the garden.

I push against the sunroom doors—but they are locked. Staring through them into the garden below, my heart sinks.

There are so many security guards walking around outside.

It’s like he’s prepared for the absolute worst-case scenario. Does he think the entire army is going to come and rescue me—because it looks like that’s the kind of defense he’s got set up here.

“Fuck,” I mutter angrily.

There is no way in hell that I am going to be able to get off the property without being stopped.

I have to wait this out.

My brothers will strike a bargain—they will do whatever it takes to get me home. My family looks after each other. I know I haven’t been fair to them—keeping my secrets from them—but when it comes down to it, we would all do anything for each other.

They will negotiate a deal quickly to get me home as soon as possible. Maybe by this evening, I’ll be safely back with them.

I bite at my lower lip as I walk downstairs towards the kitchen.

My stomach is growling. I’m so hungry and I really need a cup of coffee.

I walk into the kitchen and stop dead in my tracks.

Oleg turns around to face me.

“Good morning. Did you sleep ok?” he asks, as though I was a guest, and not here by force.

“What do you care if I slept ok or not?” I snap angrily.

He shrugs and takes a mug down from the cabinet above him. “Can I make you a coffee?”

“I don’t want your coffee,” I say, knowing it’s not true. I really want coffee. But I don’t want him to make it for me and then somehow think I owe him something.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Raisa. How do you like your coffee? Or are you a tea person?”

I sigh.

"One sugar. With milk."

I stand as far away from him as I can. The kitchen is massive, so it’s easy to keep the distance between us.

Despite my intense anger towards him I still find myself checking him out as he stands with his back towards me.

I can see the muscles of his back beneath the thin white t-shirt he is wearing.

Dammit.

He’s sexy.

I wish I wasn’t so intensely attracted to him.

I wish I could stop thinking about that damn kiss—and how it felt when he pinned me down last night.

Oleg turns towards me, a cup of coffee in his hand.

He places it on the counter next to me.

“Thanks,” I mutter, not wanting to speak to him at all.

“Pleasure,” he replies casually.

Looking up at him and taking a deep breath, I dare to ask, “When can I go home?”

His dark eyes pierce into me as his eyes narrow. My breathing gets faster, heavier. My eyes drift to his lips. He doesn’t say a word. His gaze seems to cut straight through me.

“Do you prefer eggs for breakfast or a fruit salad and some oats?” He asks, turning away again—completely ignoring my question.

“Coffee is fine,” I sigh, then walk out of the kitchen because I can’t handle being so close to him and thinking inappropriate thoughts that won’t get out of my head.

The sooner I get home, the better. The less time I spend near him, the better.

I don’t like the effect he has on me.

I don’t like the fact that I want to throw myself into his arms so that I can experience that kiss again.

It makes me really angry that I’m even thinking about that.

I decide that the best thing for me to do is to hide away in the guest bedroom as much as possible until my brothers come to get me.

When I do get too hungry, I sneak downstairs and find leftovers in the fridge. I heat them up, then carry them back up to the room where I can eat in private and not have to face Oleg.

The morning drifts by painfully slow because I am so impatient to get home and I have absolutely nothing to do to try and make the time go by faster. By late afternoon, I am ready to tear my hair out I’m so agitated.

I hate waiting. It’s such a waste of time.

Downstairs, I hear someone arriving.

The front door closes and voices drift up towards my room.

Is that my brothers? Are they here? Am I going home?

I push off the bed, feeling hopeful and excited.

Rushing towards the door, I run straight into one of Oleg’s guards.

Crashing into his chest, he grabs my arm and says, “Hey, slow down.”

“What’s going on downstairs?”

“Come on, I was sent to fetch you. I’m sure you will find out soon enough.”

My heart is beating fast and I feel a smile of relief spread across my face. My brothers must be here. I’m going home. Thank goodness.

The guard leads me downstairs, but not towards the front door. Instead, he turns towards the back of the house and guides me into what looks like an office.

“What the hell is going on?” I stammer, seeing a priest standing in the room.

The guard pushes me towards Oleg.

Oleg takes my arm and pulls me up against his side.

“What is going on?” I say more forcefully.

“We are getting married,” Oleg answers, curt and short. To the point.

“No, we are fucking not,” I snap back in shock.

“Yes, Raisa. We are. Now do as you are told.”

His fingers grip around my arm as I try to turn away from him. He yanks me back to his side.

“I’m not marrying you,” I cry out in desperation.

“Marry me, or your family will suffer.”

His threat is simple, but the possibilities of what he might do to the people I love are endless.

My jaw drops open as I stare at him in disbelief.

“Why?” I beg to know.

“Do as you are told, Raisa,” he says again.

The priest starts reciting the usual ceremonious rantings and before long he turns to me and says, “do you, Raisa Kuznetsov take Oleg Dubrov to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

I stammer, stuttering no reply at all. Oleg’s fingers dig into my arm.

As soon as I get out of here, I will divorce him. Whatever he has planned—it won’t work. “I do,” I mutter.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride,” the priest says and my heart beats in a wild flutter of confusion.

Oleg steps right up against me, wraps his hand around the back of my neck and presses his lips against mine.

I am so angry it feels as though that anger is going to rip through my chest. But the worst part—the absolutely worst part of this—is that the kiss feels so fucking amazing.

Oleg steps away and looks down at me with a dark streak in his gaze. Something behind his stare tells me he felt the same way about the kiss.

I want to go home.

This isn’t right.

I don’t want any of this.

I want to become a doctor and escape this horrible mafia life.

The priest slides a piece of paper across the desk towards us. “Please sign over here.”

I pick up the pen on autopilot, not even thinking anymore but feeling sick to my stomach as I scribble my signature onto the marriage certificate. Surely this can’t be legal. This can’t be happening.

But there it is. A marriage certificate with my name, right next to my husband’s name. Oleg Dubrov.

“Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Dubrov,” the priest says with a smile.

“Mrs. Dubrov? “ I blurt out in absolute horror.

“Thank you for your time,” Oleg says to the priest. Ignoring my emotional turmoil. I don’t believe what just happened. I can’t even seem to process it in my own thoughts. Am I really married to him now?

I stare between them. I can’t process any of this.

The priest leaves and Oleg nods to his security guard. “Please take her to my room. I think her and I need to talk,” he says. The guard takes my arm, which I immediately pull back. “Don’t touch me,” I snap angrily. He takes my arm again and pulls me out into the hallway, then pushes me ahead of him—leading me to Oleg’s bedroom.

Oh, we are going to talk alright. I am going to tell him exactly what I think. He’s going to—

“Raisa.”

His voce makes me jump and I spin to face him. My guard is up, my fists are clenched at my sides and my jaw is biting down so tightly it’s starting to make my neck muscles ache.

“What the fuck just happened?” I blurt out, loud and aggressive.

“Raisa,” he speaks gently, not matching my energy. “It had to be done. I’m sorry, that you were put into this position, but this is for the best.”

I shake my head, no, this is bullshit.

“The best for who? You? Your family? Do you care about other people?“ “I hate you, Oleg. I will hate you till the day I die,” I whisper, the words spilling from my lips like a curse.

He smiles sadly.

He is standing too close and it’s making my skin tingle and my stomach flutter as though a hundred butterflies have escaped and are now flapping around inside me.

I bite my lower lip and squeeze my eyes closed to try and ignore how freaking sexy he looks.

Get a grip, Raisa. I repeat to myself.

“Raisa, you don’t deserve this. But somehow—maybe it is—maybe this is what was meant to happen,“ his hand brushes over my cheek. I want to turn my face away from him, but I seem to losing control of myself. I’m so angry, so full of rage, with blood pulsing through my veins so fast it’s making me dizzy.

His touch is warm and it sends shivers down my spine. What is happening to me?

“You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. You are smart, strong and passionate about everything,” he whispers, his voice is deep and it rumbles through me.

When I do open my eyes to look at him his eyes are dark chocolate pools of warmth—and desire.

My heart begins to beat faster, harder. The rhythmic thunder of my blood pulsing in my veins is making me lean towards him. I should not be leaning towards him. This was not my plan. I was going to—

What was I going to do?

“I don’t want you to be upset about any of this, Raisa. I promise you I will take care of you. I will protect you through all of this. You are my wife now.”

His reassuring tone and gentle touch is confusing me. My mind is screaming no—telling me to be angry and push him away—but my body is doing the complete opposite.

I can’t help it, the way I am tilting my head back, lifting my lips towards his. I can’t help the way my skin is alive and begging for him to touch me, I can’t stop myself.—

He leans down and his lips are against mine. Electricity bolts through me as his hands slip beneath my top, running over my naked skin.

I’m so nervous, but everything feels right.

I gasp against his kiss and he lifts me in his arms. I wrap my legs around his waist and the kiss becomes more passionate, deeper, harder.

Warnings fire in the back of my mind. Stop. You shouldn’t do this. This isn’t what you want.

But right now, it’s all I want—so I shove those thoughts aside.

A deep moan rumbles through his chest as he walks to the side of the bed, and stands me on the mattress.

My hands are shaking.

I am taller than him now as I look down at him. He slides both hands over my waist as he pushes my top up and over my head. His lips play over my exposed nipples and I moan softly, running my fingers through his hair and hoping that he can’t notice how nervous I am.

“You are a goddess,” he growls, grabbing the buttons of my jeans and tugging them open, sliding them off my legs.

I kick them away. Heat is building in my body it feels as though it is vibrating between my legs. A sensation I’ve felt before, but never this intense. Never with this much desire and urgency.

I grab his shirt and without unbuttoning it, I pull it over his head.

I take in the sight of him, shirtless, sculpted perfection. The tattoo across his collarbone is much bigger than I expected it to be. I reach up and touch it, sliding my fingers over the black in, etched in abstract patterns that curve to the shape of his body, complimenting the muscles and tendons that ripple beneath it.

He pulls his pants open and my eyes lock onto his cock.

It’s massive. Thick veins running up the shaft.

Suddenly, I’m shaking even more. The nervous thread tugging at my thoughts has grown tighter.

I want this.

But I’ve never done it before.

I’ve never even seen a fully naked man—so—ready.

He pushes me backwards onto the bed and I want to tell him. I want to say something so that he knows. But I’m embarrassed.

What will he think when he finds out I’m a virgin?

He lies down over me, his body pinning me down and his hand caressing my face.

His cock is rock hard and throbbing between my legs. He rocks against me and his cock rubs over my pussy. Oh my word. It feels so good. My body is begging me to just let him take me. To let him do whatever he wants with me.

Fuck. I want this so badly.

But—I have to tell him.

It feels wrong not to.

He pushes his hips forward and I tense up.

This scene feels rushed.

“Wait—“ I gasp, just as he is about to thrust into me.

“Mm,” he growls, trying to control himself, leaning up to look at me.

“It’s—I’ve—“ I stammer, trying to find the right words.

“What is it, Raisa?” His deep voice vibrates against my breasts.

“I’ve never done this before—“ I whisper, my cheeks flushing bright pink and burning with embarrassment.

“You’re a virgin?” He growls, and I can’t tell if he is angry or not. He sounds upset. The way he pulls his mouth into a snarl makes my stomach twist with shame.

He pushes off me, shaking his head and grabbing his pants, quickly pulling them back on without looking in my direction.

He doesn’t want me anymore. My heart sinks as I grab at the blankets and tug them over my very exposed body. I’m dying inside.

“You should have told me sooner, Raisa,” he says softly, with his back to me. The muscles ripple as he moves.

Oleg takes a deep breath and lets it out heavily. His shoulders are tense. The way he’s standing—I think he’s definitely angry.

Then he walks out of the room, leaving me lying on the bed, confused, aroused, heated, angry—trying to hide myself beneath the blankets.

I’m more embarrassed than I have ever felt in my entire life.