The only time we had Byki were when we were at a safe house, or under house arrest, and they served as more outside armed guards than personal protection. My mother always had Byki, as a Pakhan’s wife, but they always stayed out of view. If I had my own on a regular basis, they stayed hidden.
Mika waltzes out of the bathroom, underwear and socks on as he searches for an undershirt and then grabs a suit from his closet. I look between him and his pile of dirty clothes, wondering how many suits he actually owns. He must have dozens. It doesn’t look like he’s laundered anything, or sent his suits to the cleaners, in at least a month.
“Remember what I said. Stay in the building today,” he reminds me before he leans down and presses his lips to mine.
“I will,” I nod.
“There’s an extra set of keys on the counter for you. It’s yours, and they open the building and this condo. See you when I can. We’ll go grocery shopping. I’m sure there’s nothing edible in here,” he grunts and walks away.
I hear the door slam closed and look around, realizing that I’m smack dab in the middle of a bachelor pad. I shiver at what is actually in the fridge, what’s in the pile of dirty laundry, and how it must smell, and then the bathroom—it frightens the hell out of me.
Once I’ve laid between the only thing that I know is clean in the entire house, I decide to get up and brave the rest of the condo. I tiptoe to the bathroom and am mildly relieved to see that it doesn’t look dirty as much as it just looks messy. I can deal with messy. Messy is easy. I ignore Mika’s talk of a house keeper. I’m not an invalid. I can at least clean—maybe not well, but I can.
I shower, then grab a pair of jeans and a slouchy t-shirt from the bag that Mika brought with him from Russia. After I’m dressed, I throw my hair up and decide to get down to business; and by business, I mean picking up all of this house so that I can see what exactly I’m working with here.
It doesn’t take me long to separate all of Mika’s clothes, setting his suits aside in a pile, and start a load of laundry. I’m ecstatic that he has a washer and dryer in the condo and I don’t have to go down to a laundromat or anything. I’ve never actually done that before, and it would probably take me a while to figure it all out.
Then I make his bed and decide to tackle his room and work my way out before I find another room, work on that, then move right along. I have a feeling that, before he gets home, I’ll have completely cleaned his condo. All we’ll need to do is grocery shop.
I wonder if that would shock the shit out of him?
Once I have everything picked up, put away, and counter tops cleaned throughout the entire place, I start deep cleaning.
Thankfully, Mika has all the products I could need, including stuff to mop the floors. Unfortunately, I’ve never mopped floors, so I spend more time reading the instructions than is probably normal; but the last thing I want to do is mess up.
The directions say to sweep all of the floors first, and I feel stupid for not having thought of that before. I go in search of a broom and am glad to find one in the front coat closet. The entire condo is tile flooring. By the looks of the piles of dirt and dust I’m sweeping, they haven’t been cleaned in a while.
I make my way back to the bedroom and decide to sweep under the bed. The first swipe of the broom brings forward something I didn’t quite expect to find. A pair of women’s panties. They’re skimpy—really, really skimpy—and I wonder if they actually cover anything, since they mainly look like a bunch of strings. I’m not about to pick them up to find out anything about them, though.
A knock on the door interrupts my staring at the bright red pieces of string, and I place the broom against the wall before walking to the door. Looking through the peephole, I smile when I recognize both Leonie and Quinn standing on the other side.
I quickly open the door and give them a smile. Quinn is holding a bag of food, and Leonie is holding a tray with drinks. They both look at me and Quinn narrows her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” she asks as I step aside to let them in.
“Nothing,” I lie. “What’s this?”
“I had lunch delivered. Now tell me what’s happened,” she demands.
I sigh as I follow them into the kitchen. Leonie doesn’t say anything, but her wary gaze is enough to make me spill. I heave myself up onto a barstool and I explain to them about the little argument Mika and I had about cleaning; then I tell them about the panties.
“Ew,” Quinn remarks, turning her nose up as she takes a bite of her sandwich.
“I can’t really even say anything, either,” I sigh as I take a bite of my own food.
I can’t really taste it. It’s bland; or maybe I’m just so disappointed and sad that my taste buds have disappeared.
“You’ve been with others in the past?” Leonie asks with a smile.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “But not for a long time. Not since before my mother died.”
“You don’t know how long ago those ended up under there,” Leonie points out.
I nod, but the twisting feeling in my stomach doesn’t go away, it only intensifies. I glance over at Quinn, who is avoiding eye contact and eating her food. I think she probably knows something, but she’s not saying anything. I’ll be damned if I’m going to ask. I don’t want to know. I want that red fabric to disappear and all memory of it ever being in this condo to vanish.
“Let’s help you do the floors and then we can just hang out the rest of the afternoon,” Quinn suggests.
We finish eating and, a few minutes later, I watch as Leonie walks into the bedroom with a small dustpan. She rids Mika’s room of the panties without a word, and about fifteen minutes after that, the floors are clean. I’m surprised at how quickly we finished, and I’m glad that they came over. I probably would have retreated into myself about the panties for the rest of the day.
“Let’s watch something that will take your mind off it,” Quinn suggests.
“Like what?” I snort.
“Kardashians or Catfish?” she asks with a smirk.
“What is that, Catfish?” Leonie asks, furrowing her brow.
“Catfish. Leonie has to see it,” I laugh.
“Then Dating Naked. That’s a good one, too,” Quinn offers with a smirk.
“Oh, yeah, that one’s good,” I admit with a nod.
We spend the rest of the afternoon binging on trashy television. Leonie becomes engrossed with both shows. It’s almost comical; that is, if I wasn’t just as much into them.
Before they leave, Quinn explains that she has class the rest of the week during the day, so she won’t be able to hang out. I’m a little disappointed, but I turn to Leonie and ask her if she wants to hang tomorrow.
“Sure, maybe we can try and find a local orphanage to volunteer?” she asks.
“Oh, that sounds like fun. We can look into it tomorrow. I’ll ask Mika to borrow his computer.”
“Perfect, see you tomorrow,” she says with a wave. Both of the women then leave me alone.
Unfortunately, Mika isn’t home yet, so that leaves me with time alone to think; to think about the little red panties that were under his bed. They continue to fill my thoughts, and I can’t stop it.
I don’t want to think about the woman who owned them—if she meant anything to him, if he thinks of her, or if he plans on seeing her again. I couldn’t say anything if he did. It wouldn’t be my place, something I learned the hard way from my parent’s relationship.
I had always thought that my father adored my mother; and he had, as far as I knew. Then I found out that he carried on an affair with Inessa’s mother over twenty years ago. The knowledge of that shattered the perfect image I had of my parent’s marriage. It also shattered the hope that I had for my own future marriage.
Now, I’m basically just waiting around for what’s inevitable, and I hate it. I fucking love Mika. In some ways, staying married to Gavril would have been easier, because I couldn’t stand him. If he stepped out on me, I wouldn’t h
ave even cared. With Mika, I care—too much.
THERE IS NO AMOUNT of trashy television that can keep my mind off of the fact that it’s after midnight and Mika isn’t home yet. I give up trying to wait for him, trying to pretend to watch television, and I make my way back to the bedroom.
I take a shower, then go to the drawer that now holds what lingerie I have here. I hope Mika doesn’t mind me moving a bunch of his clothes around to make room for mine.
Sliding into bed, I feel as though the only thing I’m capable of doing is staring at the damn doorway, waiting for him to appear. I shake my head, feeling like a fucking idiot, and decide to try and get some sleep. I’m still tired from everything that’s happened the past few weeks. I’m running on nothing but fumes and feeling extra emotional because of it all.
I close my eyes and try to relax my mind and body enough for sleep to take over. Eventually, it works; but the last time I glance at the clock, it’s after two in the morning, and I’m still alone.
A noise startles me awake, and my heart starts to pound against my ribcage as I wait for whatever comes next. A few minutes later, a shadow darkens the doorway. It takes me a second to realize it’s Mika. He strips his clothes off and walks to the bathroom, leaving a trail of his suit behind him.
I bite my bottom lip, trying not to let my mind go to a place of what the reason could be that he’s taking a shower at four in the morning. I wonder if it’s because he’s washing a woman’s scent from his body? I hate to automatically think that, but I can’t stop my mind from going there, no matter how hard I try.
“You’re up,” he rumbles as he walks from the bathroom naked, crawling into bed. “You cleaned.”
“I am, and I did,” I confirm.
“I told you I’d take care of it,” he says, sounding irritated.
“I know you did, but I was home all day long,” I shrug.
“Had some shit to take care of today. Should have called to let you know I’d be late.”
“It’s fine,” I say, sliding down in the bed and turning my back to him. I try and go back to sleep. I try really damn hard not to cry.
“Hey, you pissed because I had to work all day? Trust me, I wasn’t having a party. I’m exhausted,” he says. To his credit, he does sound truly exhausted.
“No, I’m just tired,” I whisper into the darkness.
Mika slides his hand up my thigh, my waist and then under my shirt to wrap around my breast. I shiver at his touch, like I always do. Then I arch so that I press my breast into his hand, silently urging for more of him. He pinches my nipple and gently tugs on it while his lips press against my neck, his tongue snaking out to taste me.
I whimper when his other hand wraps around my waist and dives into my panties, his finger pressing against my clit as his hips shift and I feel his hard length against the crack of my ass. He growls when he slides two fingers inside of me and finds me wet, wanton, and so ready for him it’s shameful.
The hand at my breast disappears as his fingers fist in my panties and wrench them down my legs. I hear the delicate fabric rip, but I can’t seem to care. He shifts so that I’m on my belly, both of his hands wrapped around my hips. Then he’s yanking me back as he fills me from behind.
“Mikhail,” I gasp as he groans.
He doesn’t speak a single word as he pounds inside of my body, using my hips to pull me back along his cock each time he thrusts forward. I reach up to the headboard to bring my body up, but he presses a palm against the center of my back to push my face and chest to the mattress with a grunt before he returns his fingers to grip my hip.
Mika’s grunts fill the air around me, along with the slapping of his skin as he mercilessly slams inside of me, pounding into my body over and over again. My thighs shake as I try to hold myself up against his punishing thrusts. I bite my bottom lip at the pain. He’s so powerful that each pump of his hips sends a dull ache throughout my entire body.
The first tear falls, and I can’t hold back my hiccup, gasping as his fingers bite into my flesh even more. He’s being rough, which isn’t unusual, but what is unusual is he’s only taking right now. Mika has always given pleasure with his bite of pain; except right now. It makes my heart break with each thrust of his cock inside of me.
When he stills and I hear his groan as his cock twitches and fills me with his release, I can’t help but let out the sigh of relief that it’s over. For the first time I’ve ever been with Mika, I’m glad it’s over.
Mika taps the side of my ass before he slides out of me and then walks to the bathroom. I curl into a ball and face the wall, wondering what the fuck just happened.
He returns a few minutes later, and my whole body goes rigid after he settles in bed and pulls me against him, my back against his front and his lips on my shoulder in an almost affectionate graze.
“Sorry I didn’t get you there, lapochka. I’ll make it up to you when I wake up in a few hours. I really needed that, though,” he rumbles. A few seconds later, his soft snores fill my ears as his body relaxes against mine.
I close my eyes tight and try not to cry. With slow even breaths, I manage to keep my tears at bay. After about thirty minutes of staring at the wall, I decide to go to the bathroom to clean up.
Once I’ve cleaned up and am washing my hands, I lift my head and look at myself in the mirror. I cringe at the face that stares back at me. She looks scared, and that pisses me off. I’m never scared. Even when those Irish assholes had me held hostage downstairs, while they were upstairs, killing my mother, I never once showed my fear.
I exhale a heavy sigh, turning to leave the bathroom, switching the light off when I do. Instead of going back to bed, I decide to go into the living room. My stomach growls on the way, reminding me that I didn’t have dinner. It wasn’t that I skipped the meal on purpose, but Mika has no food. Well, that’s not true. He has Top Ramen, but… ew.
Making my way to the sofa, I grab the remote control and turn the television on as I curl into the corner of the sofa. I tuck my knees against my chest and rest my cheek on them as I search for something mind-numbing to watch. I’m not fool enough to think that there’s anything that can take my mind away from what just happened between Mika and me, whatever that was.
I find the old movie Daddy Long Legs and hope that it will lull me to sleep. It must, because the next thing I realize, I’m being lifted into the air. When my eyes open, I see that the sun is bathing the room that I’m being carried out of.
“What’s happened,” I whisper.
Mika grunts before I’m flying through the air, and I land on the bed with a bounce. He quickly crawls up my body and presses his hips against mine while his face lowers to just inches away from my own.
“What the fuck is with wrong with you?” he asks on a growl.
“W-what?” I stammer.
“I thought you were kidnapped from my bed. I go in search of you, and you’re curled into a ball asleep on the fucking couch?” he barks.
I press my lips together and refuse to speak. If I do, then he’ll know. He’ll know about the panties, about how he hurt me, about how much I truly do care for him and love him, and he’ll know—he’ll know how scared I am.
“Talk to me,” he grunts as his hand slides up my chest to wrap around the front of my neck.
I keep my lips pressed tightly and he gives my neck a gentle squeeze before he shakes it slightly. I narrow my eyes, but other than that, I don’t react to him. He growls and then he squeezes my throat a little tighter.
“Speak or I’ll make you talk,” he growls.
The feral look in his eyes, the way he’s growling, I don’t doubt that he’ll find a creative way to make me talk; and I’m not sure that I want to be on the receiving end of whatever that is.
So I speak.
“Where were you last night?” I finally ask.
His head jerks and he looks at me with something akin to disbelief.
“Work. I told you,” he says, looking completely bewildered.<
br />
“Yeah, until four in the morning,” I scoff. “Listen, I know you’re going to fuck whoever you want to, but please, please don’t pretend like you’re devoted to me. I’d much rather know the truth than be that woman walking around looking like a complete fool. Let’s not play games.”
Mika’s eyebrows furrow and knot together before he releases my neck and rolls off of me, rolling onto his back. Lying on his side of the bed, he exhales a breath.
“You think I was out fucking another woman?” he asks, sounding dumbfounded.
“Well, yeah,” I say as I stare at the ceiling.
“And you think this because I came in at four in the morning?” he asks, his voice oddly calm.
I turn my head to the side and look at his profile. He’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. He’s my husband, and yet I don’t feel like he’s mine at all. I know so very little about him, but I truly believe that I know more than probably anybody around, aside from maybe Sergei.
“Partly,” I mutter.
“The other part?” he asks.
I press my lips closed again, and he turns to look at me. His dark blue eyes are piercing mine and making me feel shaky and weak. I rapidly blink a few times, trying to keep from crying. Then I imagine the red panties on the floor, and tears spill down my cheeks.
Mika waits for me, his eyes taking me in, but he doesn’t move to hold me or to even touch me.
“I found women’s panties while I was cleaning,” I blurt out after a few minutes of silence.
“And?” he asks in confusion. It pisses me off.
“They weren’t mine,” I deadpan.
“This makes you think I’m cheating? You found women’s panties, from god knows how long ago, and now I’m cheating on you?”
Oksana lets out a sound of frustration and sits up, her eyes full of fire. The sadness disappears, and I can’t help the way my cock twitches at the sight of her emotion. My gorgeous wife. She’s right. I could fuck whoever I wanted and she couldn’t say shit to me. But that’s not what I was out doing. I was working.
Forever my Badman (Russian Bratva Book 7) Page 15
