Betrayed Honor: A Dark Mafia Arranged Marriage Romance (Ivanov Crime Family Book 3)

by Zoe Blake

  I forced a third finger inside of her.

  Nadia broke our kiss and cried out. Her small hand reached down to wrap ineffectually around my wrist as she whimpered, “Stop, it hurts.”

  With my free hand, I broke her grasp. Interlacing my fingers with hers, I lifted her arm high over her head and pinned it against the leather bindings of the books behind her. Her silver charm bracelet jingled and chimed with the movement.

  I rasped against her neck, “That’s it, baby. Take it. Take the pain.”

  The pad of my thumb swirled over her clit, applying just enough pressure to make her hips squirm, as I continued to thrust my three fingers into her tight pussy, opening her, preparing her. My abdomen muscles clenched as the pressure increased along my shaft. “Baby, I can’t wait any longer. Mne nuzhno tebya trakhnut'.” Christ, it was true. I needed to fuck her like I needed my next breath.

  Turning, I swiped an arm across half of Gregor’s desk, sending several ledgers, pens, and a small lamp crashing to the ground.

  I bent her over the desk. Pushing my hand into her soft strawberry blonde curls to hold her down, I flipped the hem of her dress up, exposing her cotton panties. With a swift twist of my hand, I tore them off her body.

  Nadia flattened her palms on the desk and pushed up her torso with a shocked cry, but the pressure from my hand forced her prone again. Circling my palm over her ass and hip, I growled, “Were you a bad girl, tonight?”

  Something sick and twisted rose up in me. I wanted to voice all the dirty things I wanted to do to her. I wanted to see that angel cheek of hers blush in horror and fascination at the crude sexuality of my words. I wanted her to feel the pain of desire and the release of pleasure. I wanted it all. Every piece of her. Every gasp. Every breath. Every inch of her skin. Every clench of her body. It all now belonged to me.

  She tried to look at me over her shoulder, but my grip on her hair prevented it. “What?”

  Raising my arm, I brought the flat of my hand down on her ass. The crack of skin against skin reverberated around the room. A bright crimson handprint marred her perfect skin. “Were you a bad girl?”

  Nadia cried out, “Oh my God!”

  I spanked her again. “Answer me.”

  She sniffed. “Please, don’t spank me. It hurts.”

  Ignoring her pleas, I spanked her twice, once on each cheek. She bounced up on her toes as much as her clunky Doc Martens would allow. “Ow!”

  I pushed my hand between her legs and teased her clit with the tip of my finger. “I want an answer, kroshka.”

  “Yes! Yes! I was bad.”

  I slipped a finger just inside and swirled it, wanting to tease the sensitive nerves right at her tight entrance.

  I pulled her hair, just enough to give her a sharp sting. “I want to hear you say you were a bad girl. Let me hear those dirty words from that sweet mouth of yours.”

  Slipping the edge of my hand between her now warm ass cheeks, I teased her tiny, puckered hole with the pad of my thumb. My cock strained against the fastening of my trousers at the thought of one day taking her there, deep and hard, till she cried for mercy.

  Her bottom clenched as she tried to shimmy her hips away from my invasive touch. “Oh my God! Not… not there!”

  “Say it. Say what I want to hear, and I’ll stop,” I commanded.

  “I was a bad girl,” she whimpered. Her breath fogged the polished surface of the desk.

  I pushed her dress up higher, bunching it at her lower back. It was then I saw it: a tiny pink heart tattoo, high up on her left hip.

  “Is this a fucking tattoo?” I growled.

  Images of her exposing her body in some seedy tattoo parlor to be pawed by some degenerate convict as he pierced her flesh with his needle over and over again flashed across my mind. Now was not the time, but heads were going to roll when I found out who was guarding her the day she slipped away to get this done.

  Her voice was high-pitched and tense as she squeaked, “Yes.”

  I leaned over her prone body and nipped at her ear. “Looks like you just gave me another reason to punish this cute little ass of yours.”

  Her only response was a low, throaty moan.

  With my knee between her legs, I pushed at her inner thighs, opening her. I lowered the zipper on my pants and pulled my cock free. Wrapping my fingers around the thick shaft, I pumped my fist up and down a few times to ease the mounting pressure. I threw my head back and closed my eyes, trying to rein in the overwhelming desire to pound ruthlessly into her pliant body, knowing if I thrust into her sweet pussy at this moment, I might tear her in two.

  I took a deep steadying breath through clenched teeth and opened my eyes to find Nadia staring at me from over her shoulder. Her bright blue eyes were wide with unshed tears as her lower lip trembled. I followed her gaze to my fist.

  She was staring at my large cock like some frightened virgin.

  Jesus Christ.

  A virgin.

  I was a monster.

  In the heat of my rage and desire, I had forgotten Nadia was a virgin.

  The very innocence that drew me to her was the very thing I had deliberately thrust out of my mind the moment my hands touched her. I had treated her no better than a shluha vokzal’naja, a train station whore. Rudely thrusting her untutored body into my world of dark and twisted desires that involved supplication and pain as a means to achieve higher depths of pleasure. My filthy touch had tainted her gentle innocence.

  It would only take a deeper thrust of my fingers to confirm my suspicions, but it wasn’t necessary. I knew deep in my bones she was untouched. She was too sheltered not to be. Between her family’s name and the fierce reputation of her brothers, Nadia had never even been on a date, let alone had a boyfriend.

  Even if someone had managed to get past our security for long enough to get that close to her, there was no doubt in my mind I would have known about it. Mainly because her brothers would trust me with the disposal of the body of whoever had dared to touch their little sister.

  The same little sister who was at this moment half naked and bent over a desk, ready for me to fuck her from behind.

  Trakhni menya, I’m a dead man.

  Chapter 4

  Nadia

  Mikhail stepped away from me, his gaze filled with horror.

  He turned his back to me, and I heard the ragged metal clicks of him zipping up his pants.

  I shoved the hem of my dress down as I straightened, wincing at the slight warm sting that still radiated across my ass from his erotic spanking. I pulled up my bra straps and clutched at the remnants of my dress while watching his agitated pacing, afraid to speak.

  Oppressively silent tension once more filled the room.

  The ticking time bomb had returned.

  Tick, tick, tick.

  Mikhail ran a hand through his hair as he paced a few steps away from me.

  Tick, tick, tick.

  I sunk my teeth into my lower lip. Catching my reflection in the window to my right, I quickly smoothed down my hair, which had become a riot of wayward curls. The reflection that stared back at me was nothing more than a watery pale ghost with unnaturally enormous, anxious eyes. Although there was no hint of color in my mirrored image, I could feel the heat on my crimson-blushed cheeks.

  As I stared down at my boots, I broke the silence. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

  Mikhail turned and stormed toward me, stopping barely a breath away. He raised both arms as if to reach for me but then paused. His fingers curled into fists, and he clenched his jaw. “Don’t. Don’t do that.”

  I took a step toward him, already missing his warmth. “Do what? Mikhail, I don’t understand what just happened.”

  Without responding, he turned, and once again paced.

  Tick, tick, tick.

  Not knowing what else to do, I bent to retrieve the lamp from the floor and set it back on the desk. I then kneeled to gather up the ledger books and the loose papers that had f
allen free from them. My brothers followed my father’s same quirky habit of preferring physical ledger books to a computer or accounting software. I once offered to help teach my father QuickBooks. I thought it might be a way for us to bond if I showed an interest in the family business. He just yelled nonsensical things about the government being able to trace those transactions and them being discoverable in court and ordered me out of his office, all the while muttering about the uselessness of daughters.

  I guess it was fitting Mikhail was rejecting me in the very same room my own father had years ago.

  Tears ran down my cheeks. Feeling silly and foolish, I swiped them away with the back of my hand but more continued to flow. Just then, gigantic hands fell on my shoulders. I looked up to see Mikhail down on his haunches before me. He had moved so silently, I started at his sudden nearness.

  With his steady grasp, he drew me to my feet. I had to tilt my head back to look into his eyes. He was so very tall. The top of my head barely reached his shoulder. I had always liked that about him. I had spent countless nights wondering what it would feel like to just walk up and press my cheek to his chest as his muscular arms wrapped around me.

  He cupped my face. His hands felt slightly calloused compared to the smoothness of my own. His thumbs swept over my cheeks, wiping the tears away. There was such a sadness to his gaze. His eyes were the brightest sapphire blue I had ever seen, so unlike my unremarkable bluish grey ones. It made his gaze that much more intense and mesmerizing. I held my breath, dreading what he may be about to say.

  “My sweet kroshka. My little poppet. It is I who am sorry. What I have done is unforgivable.”

  Reaching up, I wrapped my hands around his wrists. “Don’t say that. I wanted it. I still want it. I want you!”

  His gaze dropped to my chest, and he softly swore. The ripped neckline of my dress had sagged off of one shoulder, exposing the top of my breast. There was the faint outline of a bite mark and several bright red scrape marks from the bristle on his jaw.

  His fingertips lightly traced the marks. “They should shoot me like a rabid dog for doing this to you. You are far too pure to be subjected to the brutal touch of someone like me.”

  I could feel my chance at finally being with Mikhail slipping through my fingers. “No. I told you. I wanted it.”

  “You are too young to know what you want.”

  “I’m eighteen now!”

  Mikhail dropped his hands and stepped back. “Exactly. Christ, you’re practically still a child, and I was treating you like... like a... fuck.” He rubbed his eyes with his hand.

  I swiped at the fresh tears falling down my cheeks. “I thought this meant you liked me.”

  He wrapped his hand around the back of my head and pulled me close. I placed my hands on his chest. I could feel the steady beat of his heart and desperately wanted to press my cheek to it like in my dreams. The spicy, masculine scent of his aftershave tickled my nose. I couldn’t help but smile. There was just something so girlfriend-boyfriendy about being so close to a man I could smell the faint remnants of his aftershave from earlier that morning.

  His head dipped to the side as he stared at my mouth. Self-conscious, I licked my lips and felt the low vibrations of a growl emanating from deep inside his chest with my fingertips. “Babygirl, like is far too tame of a word for what I feel for you.”

  Elated, I rose on my toes and lifted my arms to wrap my hands around his neck, wanting more than anything to once again feel his mouth on my own. I had only been given the tiniest taste of what his kisses felt like and already craved more. It was everything I imagined it would be. The feel of his lips was like when a rollercoaster paused at the very top of a sharp incline. In that moment, I was both terrified and thrilled. My body would brace for the impact of the g-forces while my brain tried to reconcile the excitement I felt from putting myself in such mortal danger.

  He broke our embrace and took a deliberate step back. “This can never happen again, Nadia. You need to understand that. You are an Ivanov. You are meant for better.”

  “Don’t say that. I don’t want better. I want you. I lov—”

  “Stop,” he roared. “Don’t say another word.”

  Tick, tick, tick.

  “Is this about my brothers? I can talk to them.”

  “Do you honestly think I would let anyone, even your brothers, stand in the way of something I wanted? No, baby, this isn’t about your brothers, but this is about honor. Your family’s honor, and my tattered sense of honor. This is about me being far too old and far too tainted for someone as innocent and guileless as you.”

  “That’s not true!”

  He snatched at the neckline of my dress. “Goddamn it, Nadia. Look at your dress. I did this to you. I tore at it, and you, like a fucking animal. Christ, I would have taken you like one as well if we hadn’t stopped.”

  I wrapped my arms across my chest and squeezed them tight, trying to contain the tremors that were racking my body with each fatalistic word he uttered. With another muttered curse, Mikhail grabbed his discarded suit jacket and wrapped it over my shoulders.

  He placed a finger under my chin to force my tearful gaze to his own. “This ends here and now. I would only bring you pain, kroshka.”

  “Don’t I have a say in this?”

  “No, my decision is final. As far as I’m concerned, this never happened.”

  “I could tell my brothers.” It was a petulant thing to say, and I regretted it the moment I said it.

  He nodded sagely. “You could.”

  We both knew I wouldn’t. I wasn’t as naïve as my family assumed. I knew some things they did weren’t exactly legal. It was hard not to notice that my brothers were both feared and respected by the influential people who often came to our house. I was sure they wouldn’t hurt Mikhail, but they would definitely fire him, and maybe even get him deported back to Russia, which meant I might never see him again.

  I didn’t trust myself to speak. Mikhail wrapped his arm around my shoulders and gently guided me to the door. I swiveled my head to survey the destruction we had left behind. “What about the mess?”

  “I’ll take care of it. First, let me take care of you.”

  Fresh tears welled up in my eyes. His voice was back to the distant, professional tone he always used with me. Gone was the gravelly voice full of passion and need.

  Mikhail escorted me to my bedroom and waited outside my door for me to change. When I emerged, he surveyed me from head to toe and gave an approving smile. We walked down the long dark hallway without speaking. At the end, I could see flashes of warm light and hear the laughter and music from the guests. It felt like we were travelers returning from a distant planet back to civilization.

  Could it really have been only an hour that had passed? It felt like a lifetime. In the span of a few brief minutes, I had glimpsed a future with Mikhail and then lost it. Having it ruthlessly wrenched from my grasp, not because of who I was, but because of who my family was. It wasn’t fair.

  We stopped just out of sight of the guests.

  I tried to plead with him one more time. “Please, Mikhail, can we at least talk about this?”

  He refused to even look at me. “No, this was a mistake. One we’d both be better off forgetting. We’ll never speak of this again. You need to get back to your big party before you’re missed.”

  I pressed my hand to the center of my chest. A mistake. In his eyes, I was nothing more than a mistake. The word had caused a physical stab of pain. I looked down, genuinely surprised not to see blood.

  Mikhail shifted. He placed a warm hand on the side of my face and leaned down to place a chaste kiss on my forehead. “S Dnem rozhden'ya.”

  Happy birthday? The last thing I was having was a happy birthday.

  I closed my eyes and leaned into his touch as I held my breath.

  Please.

  Please say it.

  Just say it.

  Please.

  It would’ve given me at l
east a tiny shred of hope.

  Mikhail paused.

  I waited.

  With a resigned sigh, he turned and walked back down the dark hallway, each step taking him further away from me.

  Kroshka. I had so desperately wanted him to say the endearment. I wanted to be his little poppet at least one more time. I was so elated when he called me it earlier. If I had known that would be the last time, I would have savored it. I would have clasped it to my heart and played it repeatedly in my mind.

  I turned to watch him go, willing him to turn around, begging him silently in my mind to at least glance back.

  He didn’t.

  Tick, tick, boom.

  Chapter 5

  Mikhail

  I returned to the party in time to see the cake with its eighteen lit candles being brought in. The guests launched into a drunken rendition of Gena the Crocodile’s song, our version of Happy Birthday.

  My poor babygirl looked anything but happy.

  The soft glow of the candles gave her pretty blue-grey eyes a stormy sadness.

  Fuck. I needed to stop this. Thinking like this would get me killed, or worse. And yes, there were worse things than death. Several occasions throughout my time with the Ivanov brothers, I’d personally been the fate worse than death for many a man.

  She wasn’t mine.

  Never would or could be.

  It would not only be betraying her brothers, but her as well. I would be taking advantage of what was probably only a schoolgirl’s crush.

  I flexed my hand before balling it into a fist. I could still feel the warmth of her skin against my palm. I couldn’t believe I had taken things so far. Not only had I lost control with her, but I had also shown her a side of myself I'd never intended for her to see. The animalistic side that wanted nothing more than to toss her over my shoulder, drag her back to my cave, and fuck her senseless for days. The side that wanted her on her knees, begging with her eyes for me to allow her to breathe as my cock was shoved deep down her throat. The dark and twisted side that wanted her crying for mercy as I ruthlessly pounded into her tight asshole. My sexual preferences were too dark, too perverse, for an innocent such as she, and that would be true even if there wasn’t my loyalty to her brothers or our age difference to consider.