Taken by the Boss

by Brook Wilder

  “Danya, it’s time,” Lukas says as he walks toward me from the back doors. “Ready?”

  “Just remember what I told you,” I whisper. He nods and then follows me out the back door and into the gardens.

  White chairs line either side of the stone path while soft string music is played by a quartet off to the side. The man marrying us is one of Mikhail’s figureheads in the public eye. He runs the local parish and helps funnel money or drugs when the need arises. I take my place in front of him, then turn to face the doors. Joseph and Hannah Russo are already seated in the front row. He looks as if he’s just won the lottery, selling off his daughter. Hannah looks as thin and sickly as always. Does Stella really believe I would do that to her?

  I remember the bruises on Stella’s arms and tell myself Joseph will never lay his hands on his daughter again. She’ll be under my care and my protection from this night on, whether she likes it or not.

  The music shifts slightly, and everyone turns toward the mansion. I lift my gaze and my pulse ratchets up a few notches. Stella stands in the doorway, a small bouquet of red roses in her hands. The dark red dress she’s wearing has three-quarter sleeves and is overlaid with lace and satin. It hugs her curves and matches the four-inch heels on her feet. Her hair has been done up and the amount of makeup on her face is nothing like the woman I saw just the day before. Her father had a hand in her appearance tonight.

  From the stiff way she walks toward me, Stella is not happy. The smile on her face might appear real to those here, but it’s fake. Her green eyes find me, and they narrow slightly though the smile remains. The fact that she had to wear long sleeves to cover the bruises left by her father makes me glare at him. He only has eyes for his daughter, though. A daughter he thinks is his salvation. If only he knew the truth, that’d wipe the greedy smirk off his face.

  When Stella reaches me, she hands over the bouquet to Hannah then stands before me. We face each other. I offer a smile of my own, but can’t tell if she believes I’m happy to be here or if I’m merely putting on a show, too. I take her hands in mine, giving them what I hope is a comforting squeeze when I sense her nerves. Then the ceremony begins and after five short minutes, it’s all over. I move to kiss her, planning to make it short and sweet, but when our lips make contact, we both tense. Then she’s relaxing into me and I deepen the kiss on instinct. Memories of our times together crash into me, one after the other, until we break apart as if jolted by a live wire. Her eyes search mine curiously, but then we’re being turned to face the crowd. Mikhail nods approvingly while Mom keeps her hands clasped in front of her. Her smile is like a shark waiting to eat its next meal.

  I thought Mikhail would be the only one I’d have to keep Stella safe from. Apparently, I was wrong.

  “Now, who’s up for a drink?” Mikhail says loudly and announces cocktails and dinner will be served inside.

  “Guess we’re married now,” Stella mutters beside me.

  Gently, I tuck her arm in the crook of my elbow. “Guess so. We won’t stay long if you don’t want to.”

  “Whatever you want is fine with me, husband,” she replies.

  I clench my jaw. She’s not even going to give me a chance to show her the man I’ve turned into. All she sees is a younger version of Mikhail. A heartbreaker. A killer. I lead her toward the mansion and plan on staying long enough to suffice Mikhail. Neither of us needs to be around these people tonight.

  Chapter 8

  Danya

  I step inside the foyer of my home a few hours later with Stella right behind me. “Your things were brought over earlier today,” I tell her, though I’m sure she already knows. “I’ll show you to your new room.”

  She hasn’t said two words to me all night after the ceremony. The smile she wore for the benefit of both our fathers disappeared the second we were in my jeep headed back here. She kicked out of her heels and stared out the window as we drove toward Brooklyn.

  The silence is deafening, and I finally clear my throat and lead the way upstairs. She follows after taking off her heels and holds them in her hand.

  “This will be your new room. If you want to change it at all, just let me know. I’ll see it gets done.” I open the heavy wooden door and flip on the light. “My room is at the end of the hall if you ever need anything.”

  She steps into the room and walks slowly around. She tosses her shoes to the floor and begins to undress. I turn my back to give her some privacy. “Danya, what are you doing?”

  “Leaving you to get comfortable. I’ll be downstairs in the study for a bit.”

  “You’re not staying?” she asks, sounding genuinely confused.

  I chance a peek over my shoulder, then turn back when I see she hasn’t removed her dress yet. “No, I’m not. I figured I’d let you get settled in your first night here.”

  “But the marriage won’t be legit unless we consummate it.”

  “We’ll get there in time. I’m sure both of us can lie well enough if anyone asks any questions.”

  She crosses her arms and her face takes on an indifference that borders on cold. “You saying you don’t want to have sex with me?”

  “That is not what I’m saying at all,” I argue.

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  I run a hand down my face. I’d hoped to get out of this conversation quickly, but she just has to push like she always used to. “There’s no problem at all except when we fall into bed together, it’s not going to be because we have to.”

  I take a step further into the room, shrugging out of my tux jacket as I do. I toss it to the floor then tug on my tie to loosen it. Her lips part slightly and her breath catches. My eyes roam over her curves in that damn dress. My hands itch to hold her hips and tear the fabric from her body to see what kind of woman she’s grown into.

  “And who says I’ll ever want to with you?” she asks, but there’s a hint of uncertainness to her voice. “Not like we haven’t been here before.”

  “This time will be different.” I let my tie fall to the floor and work on the buttons of my shirt. I only undo a few and stop a foot away from her. “This time, I think we both know what we’re doing. I’ll make you tremble with pleasure. I’ll make you forget any other man you’ve been with.” I lean in and breathe in that scent of autumn that is all Stella. I move slowly behind her and rest my hands on her shoulders.

  “Just sex then,” she murmurs. “That’s all it’ll be for both of us. Not like we could ever have anything else.”

  I want to keep arguing with her, but I doubt I’ll win any ground tonight. Gently, I begin to pull pins from her hair. She sighs as the black locks tumble free. I massage her scalp as I go, taking my time, and loving the feel of the silky strands on my fingers. Once the last pin is free, I let my hands roam down her neck to her shoulders. She rests against my chest and I’m transported back in time to when we thought we could break free of this life and do what we wanted. Back to when we believed in love and happy endings.

  “Danya,” she whispers, catching me off guard when she spins around to face me. Her fingers tug at my beard as her eyes study my face like she’s searching for something.

  I can’t resist any longer and lower my mouth to hers. I capture her lips, quieting her surprised murmur that quickly turns into a moan. I wrap my arms around her, drawing her in as close as I can as I deepen the kiss. Her lips part without protest and then I’m lost in her taste and scent surrounding me. As her arms find their way around my neck, I let my hands roam across her back until I find the zipper to her dress. Just as I start to tug it down, she breaks the kiss and shoves me away.

  “Get out,” she snaps breathlessly, clutching a hand to her chest. The coldness is back in her eyes as she glares at me then points to the door. “I said get out.”

  I turn and go without another word. She slams the door shut behind me and I hear the lock flip. Running my hands through my hair, I start to head down the hall when the door opens. Thinking she’s changed her min
d, I make ready to talk to her some more when my tux jacket, followed by my tie, flies out of the room. The door slams shut again, and I’m left in the hall, trying to get control of my raging emotions.

  I snatch up the jacket and tie, then stomp to my room. I change into jeans and a T-shirt then hurry past her door on my way downstairs for a drink. I dig around in the kitchen until I find a bottle of whiskey, unscrew the top, and pour a tumbler full. I drain it, then fill a second glass. That one I take with me to the study.

  How did I ever think this would be possible? It’s barely been a few hours and she already looks ready to kill me. There’s no way in hell I’m going to get her to act anything like the obedient wife Mikhail expects her to turn into unless I become like all the other men in her life. That will never happen. I drain the second glass, then chuck it into the hearth as I stalk around the study. If I try to tell her the truth now, she won’t believe me. She’ll think I’m telling her whatever she wants to hear so I can win her over. In her mind, I’m no better than her father or mine.

  We’ll have to take this marriage one day at a time and somehow not kill each other in the process.

  Chapter 9

  Stella

  I throw the heavy black comforter from the bed with a grunt of annoyance. A quick glance at the clock on the cherry wood nightstand says it’s half-past one.

  “Stupid, you’re being stupid,” I mutter as I climb out of bed and walk madly around the perimeter of the massive bedroom. “Why did you kiss him back?” I’ve been arguing with myself ever since I kicked Danya out of the room. “This won’t work. All it’s going to do is make everything worse.”

  I promised myself yesterday morning that I’d marry Danya, but there was no way in hell I was falling into bed with him. No way in hell I’d believe anything he said. It’d all be a ploy to make me his perfect, little wife. He had his chance with me, and he destroyed it. No amount of groveling would win me back.

  I walk into the bathroom and flip the light on. I’m wearing the black lace bra and panties I wore under the red dress for the wedding. I was expecting to simply get it over with. Then he said he wanted to wait, and it threw me off my game. I fell into bed without changing, too aggravated to do much else after that hot kiss.

  Why couldn’t he have gotten worse instead of incredibly better? The way his lips moved against mine was intoxicating. I shut my eyes and feel his hands pressed against my back as if he’s in here with me. It’s more vivid than the dreams I’ve had of him lately, and it doesn’t help that the teakwood scent of his cologne lingers on my skin.

  “Stop it,” I scold myself in the mirror. “He didn’t want you back then. He doesn’t get to change his mind just because you were forced to marry.”

  I snag my white, plush robe off the back of the door, put it on, then quietly leave the bedroom. My stomach grumbles since I ate nothing at the reception. Food isn’t what I want, though. Danya and that damn mouth of his, that’s what I want. I huff, annoyed, as that familiar itch starts, an itch only one man will ever be able to satisfy. I glance toward his bedroom door, but it’s closed tight. I flip his room off then trudge downstairs to find a strong drink. Or several. Shit, I’ll take a whole bottle if I can manage it.

  There are a few lights on in the mansion, but for the most part, it’s in shadow. I don’t spot any guards near the front doors when I pass but assume they’re outside. Tiptoeing, I find my way to the kitchen and fumble for a light switch. The cabinetry in here is exquisite, all dark woods and warm trim. It’s cozy despite its size. Just like the first time I entered Danya’s house, another memory tugs at me. As it slowly unfolds, my heart sinks.

  This is exactly the type of mansion Danya described to me when we were younger. It’s the house he promised me we’d have together and grow old in. Nearly every detail is exactly as he told it to me all those years ago. My chest grows tight as I roughly clear my throat.

  None of that matters anymore. Danya showed me his true colors. He’s just another man owned by his family. He’ll do whatever is necessary to keep the business going. I straighten my back, force the tender memory into the shadows, then reach for the bottle. The whiskey burns going down but warms once it reaches my stomach. I smack my lips then take another, longer drink. Maybe it’d be a good idea to skip class tomorrow until I remember I had to skip it last week thanks to dear old dad. Thinking of him and his final warning makes me take another drink, then another. I’m considering finishing off the bottle when the floor creaks behind me.

  I whirl around to find Danya. His shoulder rests against the doorframe and those muscular arms that held me so tenderly and completely are crossed over a well-defined chest. His hazel eyes stay locked on mine as I set the bottle on the counter, then slide it toward him.

  “Want some?”

  “Already had my share,” he replies, the deep timbre of his voice sending a delicious shiver down my spine.

  How does he keep doing this to me? I hate him, that’s what I remind myself as we stand there staring at each other. I hate him. So why can’t I leave this kitchen? I’m rooted to the spot, feeling those hands on me again.

  “Can’t sleep?” he asks, but stays where he is.

  “Something like that. What are you doing up?”

  He shrugs. “Wasn’t ready to go to sleep yet. Thought I’d head up now, unless you want to talk.”

  A burst of bitter laughter slips through my lips. I can’t tell if it’s the whiskey or just too many years trying to get over the man standing within a few yards of me. Once it starts, I can’t seem to shut up. “Talk after everything you did to me? You’re dreaming if you think this is ever going to get any better,” I say, motioning at the space between us. “You fucked up, Danya. Accept it and move on. I have.”

  I walk around the island and start to head for the other door to the kitchen when he snaps, “Bullshit.”

  I skid to a stop on the hard floor. “What did you just say to me?”

  “Bullshit. You’re not over me, just like I’d be a fucking idiot to say I’m over you.” He pushes off the doorframe, all six feet four inches of him, and comes toward me. Just like in the bedroom upstairs, all I can do is watch as he gets closer and closer.

  His words finally kick in and I shake my head. “No, you don’t get to say that to me. You ended it, remember? You kicked me out of your house, Danya, remember? Because I do. I remember going home that morning. I remember reaching out to you and being told that you were no longer talking to me.” My breath catches as years of raw emotions I’ve buried rush forward. “I remember how my father treated me from that moment on, like I was nothing but a worthless piece of trash, and you have the audacity to say you’re not over me?”

  I can’t believe what he just said and wait for the retaliation from me shouting at him like this. I take a step back, half expecting him to charge me down as Dad would do. The seconds tick by, but the only change in those hazel eyes is the pain that slowly appears followed immediately by regret then sadness. He’s got to be faking it, but he swallows hard as if he’s fighting back his own tidal wave of emotions.

  “You think I wanted to do that to you?” he whispers. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Yeah, you did, and you chose your fucking family just like every other man in this shitty world will do. The family comes first,” I recite disgusted. “It’ll never change.”

  “I am not Mikhail,” he argues. “I’m not your fucking abusive father either.” When his eyes slip to my arms hidden by the robe, his neck reddens like it always used to when he was angry. “I’m sorry for what happened back then, but you have to understand—”

  “Understand what? That you’re a coward?”

  He shakes his head as he moves until he’s only a few feet away. “You have no idea what I went through that day.”

  “Oh poor you. You got to have sex with the girl you claimed to love then moved on to become the son of the most powerful man in the city,” I scoff as I take a step back. He follows me. I do it
again, but he stays within arm’s reach.

  “Are you honestly going to stand there and tell me I remind you of those monsters?”

  “You’ve done nothing to prove otherwise.”

  His face screws up, and he yells in Russian, then runs his hands madly through his hair. “You’re not the only one who has been hurting all this time.”

  “Fuck off,” I mutter, not in the mood to keep fighting. It’s pointless.

  I start for the stairs, but then he shouts, “I did it to save your life!”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I yell right back.

  He blows out a heavy breath. “I fought to stay with you. I fought with Mikhail and Nadia for days. I wanted to be with you. Shit, Stella, I still do.” He turns his back to me and when he whirls back around, the fury in his eyes takes my breath away. It’s not anger for me, though. It’s all for his father. “He told me if I didn’t let you go willingly, he would see temptation removed permanently.”