“You never wish to be somebody else, angel moy. You are perfect to me. Yes, I say you are too skinny, but that is only because I want you healthy—so that you will be with me forever.” His words are but a whisper, but I hear them as if he has screamed from the rooftop.
I am unable to speak. Instead, Maxim lays me down on the soft, cool grass and holds me. One of his hands cradles my head, the other around my waist, and half of his body is over mine. I feel like we are in a movie. His eyes focused on me and his face so very serious.
“I want very much for you to be happy with me, Maxim,” I admit. Because I do.
I want this second part of my life to be filled with joy, a major piece that had been missing from the first part of my life.
“I choose you to be my wife, Haleigh. You make me happy by being mine.”
His lips crush onto mine before I can think about his words or what they mean. Then I feel his length harden against my belly and his hips push into me as the hand on my hip slowly slides under my shirt. His warm hand travels up my belly and covers my breast, over my bra.
“We’re outside,” I gasp, breaking away from Maxim’s hard kiss.
“We are alone, angel moy, and in a few moments, you will know how it is to be free, making love in the warm sunshine.” He grins.
I open my mouth to say something to stop him, but Maxim’s tongue slides deep inside, warm and strong. I moan and truly forget that we are, indeed, outside in the wide open. I forget further when Maxim slides the clothes from my body and makes love to me with his mouth, causing me to scream with my release. Then he slides his length deep inside of me bringing me to another orgasm.
I wonder why I ever resisted in the first place. He is right, it feels very freeing—my body bare and the sun shining down on us. Just two people enjoying each other, loving each other’s bodies, and finding our place with one another.
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, I am dressed in a coral strapless sweetheart dress that is tight at the bust and waist and then flares out at the hips to the mid-thigh. It makes me look younger than my age. I feel a bit like Taylor Swift, but it is extremely feminine. Paired with nude high heels, I feel like a woman instead of a girl.
I wrap my hair in bun on top of my head, and the only jewelry I wear is my gigantic wedding ring. Sonia called a different spa to make an appointment later this afternoon to try to get my hair fixed after we have lunch with the other wives. I am so nervous; I don’t know whether to throw up or smile.
Sonia honks a few times in the drive, and I rush to lock the door behind me before I slide into the passenger seat. She shoots me a sideways glance and then smiles widely before she winks and takes off toward the city.
I wish that Maxim lived closer to the city. I feel so isolated out here on his sprawling estate. Perhaps one day soon I can talk him into an apartment in Manhattan. It would be nice to go out and enjoy the culture, a show, or the ballet and not have to drive all the way home. I am lost in thought when Sonia clears her throat.
“So Maxim fired that horrible woman, Yulia?” Her eyes are twinkling, and it makes me smile too.
“She was horrible. Yes, he sent her away yesterday morning.” I try not to smile, but I can’t help myself.
“That woman wanted in Maxim’s bed and tried so hard. He refused her every time, you know?” she offers.
I suppose that tidbit of information is supposed to make me feel good or something, but it doesn’t. Just because Maxim refused Yulia doesn’t mean he refused every woman or that he will refuse every woman. Nothing on earth will ever make me forget that he did not turn Catia down, that he sought her out, that he needed something from her he was convinced I could not give him.
“He called Pasha the other night asking for advice. He was very upset that he hurt you the way he did,” she murmurs.
I know Sonia is trying to make me feel better, but I feel like a fool for staying with him and for forgiving him. I don’t respond to her. Instead, I just twist my fingers in my lap.
“Pasha stepped out on me once. We were young and I was suffering from depression after having my first baby. Pasha didn’t know what to do with himself, with me, or with the baby. He was lost and so was I.
“Our marriage and our friendship suffered dearly. We were both floating around adrift and he succumbed to an easy woman. He confessed immediately, and we had to take a long look at ourselves, at our lives. We had to decide how we wanted to live.
“I wanted Pasha, but I was so angry with him. It took us some time to heal and to trust again, but I couldn’t be happier for choosing to stay with him. Don’t be embarrassed that it happened. Grow from it. You are young and hardly know each other. You will grow together.
“Maxim is a good man who has lived a very difficult life. He will make mistakes, but with Pasha and you by his side, I think he is invincible,” she says, her kind eyes looking at mine. I see wetness brimming in them. I have to admit; I feel better—I feel less foolish. Sonia is right. Maxim and I are new and we don’t know each other.
“Thank you, so very much,” I whisper. I mean the words, every single one of them.
Pulling into the valet parking area of the very exclusive restaurant, Sonia grasps my hands.
“What you and Maxim are building is going to flourish and be beautiful. Some of the women are only with their men for wealth and status. Do not let them fool you into thinking their lives are perfect or better than yours is. I see that you care for Maks even in your short time together, and that caring will flourish and grow into something magnificent. I just know it,” she advises.
Sonia’s advice also seems like a warning, as if she is preparing me for these women to be hurtful and possibly cruel. She really has no idea who my mother is and how she has treated me. I can take anything these women have to dish out. I will not break.
The restaurant is stylish and modern reminding me of every restaurant my mother has dragged me to. Though I am used to the elegance, I find that I prefer something simpler, plainer, and more relaxed. The pomp and circumstance is dull and distasteful after a while.
Sonia doesn’t even bother to check in with the maître d’. Instead, she guides us toward the back of the restaurant and we stop at a large round table full of six, out of this world, stunning buxom women.
“Hello, ladies. I have brought Maxim’s new wife, Haleigh, with me today.” She waves her hand at me, and I smile shyly as I sit down in the one of two empty chairs, hoping and praying the surprised looks I'm getting are going to turn into kind smiles soon.
“To your right is Veronika,” Sonia says.
I look next to me at a creamy skinned woman with perfect makeup and long black hair. She is wearing a skintight tank top that shows off her ample cleavage. Her purple eyes flick over me, and she smirks.
“Nice to meet you, Haleigh.” Her Russian accent is thick and her words lack true conviction. Her dancing eyes and tipped up lips make me think she holds a secret of which I am unaware.
I am introduced to a blonde named Dominika, a redhead named Irina, another sable-haired beauty named Elena, a brunette named Zoya, and another blonde named Natalia. They are all looking at me the way Veronika did—with dancing eyes, secret smiles, and hidden knowledge. Of what I do not know. I feel beyond uncomfortable around these women. I feel like a young child. I feel like I want to cry.
“You danced the ballet, correct?” the brunette, Zoya, asks, taking a sip of her mimosa. I nod, sipping on my cool water. Declining alcohol earns me more looks of surprise and disdain.
“I did until recently,” I admit. She smirks. Natalia decides to interject, interrupting the conversation.
“Maxim won’t allow you to dance anymore. You know that, right? I’m surprised he’s allowing you out of his massive hidey-hole,” she says, acting as if she is telling me something shocking. I cannot figure out why she thinks this is some major news.
“Maxim and I have discussed my dancing, and I am his wife now. My career would not last much longer as it is at my age. I
am happy to take care of the household instead of spending fourteen or more hours a day dancing,” I say with a smile.
She clamps her overly puffed up lips together and glares at me. I have offended her, but I’m not sure how. She was the one being a bitch to me.
“I am helping Haleigh redecorate the house. We are having a great time. She has also decided to do the cooking, and Maxim is thrilled to have a domestic wife by his side. He was just telling Pasha last night that he couldn’t have picked a better woman than Haleigh to share his life with.” Sonia smiles widely, laying it on thick, or so I think.
Maybe Maxim did tell Pasha those things? Wouldn’t that be something? I know he is excited that I wish to cook for us, but a better woman to share his life with? I’m not so sure that part isn’t exaggerated.
“What, you didn’t like Catia’s decorating skills?” Veronika asks, a wide, bright smile on her face.
I know I should stand up for myself, and maybe I should say something, but the hurt is too fresh and I find that the only thing I can do is bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from crying.
“Please. Maxim dropped Catia like a bad habit as soon as he found his ballerina. She’s just jealous and pissed off she isn’t Mrs. Lasovska,” Elena says. Her voice is so soft and sweet that it jolts me with surprise.
“That woman would never be Mrs. Lasovska. Every Russian in town has used her pussy. None of the men would ever take her as a wife,” Dominika sneers.
The shift in our conversation surprises me. The women have decided to direct their venom at Catia. Am I glad they have moved on to her? Yes. Am I glad they dislike her as greatly as I do? Hell, yes.
“I think Maxim did well. A beautiful little ballerina in exchange for a horrible woman who was trying to sleep her way into his checkbook as a permanent fixture. I don’t care how it happened, but I’m just glad he didn’t end up with that awful bitch,” Natalia says.
Then the conversation quickly shifts to another subject. I take the break to just breathe and enjoy my delicious lunch. Sonia grabs my hand under the table and squeezes it as a form of support with a small smile on her lips as we are finishing.
“We do lunch again next week, yes?” Irina asks, her voice rough and not at all matching her sleek body and sweet looking face.
Every one of these women is ruthless, and I wonder what kind of men have married such ruthless women? Are they all like Maxim? Big and brawny, scary at times, and controlling? Possessive and downright frightening when they want to be? I decide they must be just like him; maybe even worse; maybe scarier.
“Yes, of course,” Sonia says with a wave before we are off to the spa. Once I let my hair down, the hairdresser Sonia has chosen takes one look at me and almost cries. He is distraught that some evil bitch would do something so sinister to my locks. While my hair is drying and my toes are being painted, my phone rings.
“Hello,” I say without looking at the caller ID.
“Angel moy, you have been gone all afternoon. What are you doing?” Maxim asks, sounding distracted and busy.
“I went to lunch with Sonia and some other women, and now, I am trying to get my hair fixed,” I admit, chewing on my bottom lip, nervous that he will be upset I am spending another day at the spa.
“Good. I be home around six this evening. Not too late, yes?” he asks.
I shake my head with a smile. He is distracted and his broken English makes him sound so young and so very human. I love it.
“No, that is not too late, Maxim. Hopefully, I’ll have dinner ready by the time you arrive.” I hear him grunt softly into the phone and then, in almost a whisper, his words rock me to my core.
“My wife making me dinner, so fascinating.”
Without another word, he hangs up, leaving me smiling like a fool.
When we are finished at the spa, tears prick my eyes at the transformation. My hair looks almost the same as before, blonde, soft, and pretty. I never thought I would love my naturally blonde hair as much as I do now. Sonia hugs me and tells me how beautiful it looks and how she’s positive Maxim will be very pleased with the change back.
Sonia and I make appointments for two weeks from today to have manicures and pedicures done, along with waxing and massages.
Once I am back in the car with Sonia, she informs me that in two days, we will continue decorating the house and I should be ready to shop until I drop.
I can’t stifle the yawn that escapes my lips as I gather the ingredients to make a ziti bake for Maxim’s dinner. Sonia sent me a few recipes she thought I could attempt, and this looked the easiest. I am so tired, and it seems like all of the wedding stress, and the anxiety of being a newlywed to a man I hardly know, is finally wearing on me.
I boil the pasta and dice tomatoes along with fresh zucchini as I brown some ground beef. Then I shred mozzarella cheese and pile it all into a baking dish. I'm finished by five forty-five in the evening. Setting the timer for one hour, I decide to rest on the sofa until Maxim comes home. My eyelids grow heavy the second I sit down.
“Angel moy,” I hear Maxim mutter above me. I slowly open my eyes to find him crouched down beside the sofa; his eyes look tired but soft.
“Maxim,” I whisper just as I hear the timer go off.
“Whatever you are cooking smells delicious. Are you too tired to eat at the table? I can bring it in here for you.” Maxim’s finger trails the side of my cheek as his blue eyes roam over my face, searching for my answer.
“I’m all right. Let’s eat and then we can go to bed. I’m sure you’ve had a long day,” I offer.
Maxim eyes me warily like there is something he is trying to figure out about me. I grin and walk into the kitchen to take the ziti out so we can eat. Suddenly, as if it all clicks, he snaps his fingers and points at me while I’m removing the ziti from the oven.
“Your hair, angel moy. It is beautiful,” he says with a wide smile.
I turn around and look at him, my smile beaming at the simple compliment. He noticed. I didn’t think he would truly notice something as simple as my change of hair color, but he did, and it fills me with warmth and butterflies.
Our dinner is quiet, as Maxim is busy composing e-mails and answering text messages on his phone. I don’t mind. Even if he is working, at least he came home to do so with me and he isn’t gone. Just being in the house with me makes me feel like he cares.
I gather all of the plates to clean up. I haven’t found a housekeeper yet, so I am trying my hardest to keep the whole place as picked up as possible until I do. As I rinse the plates, I silently decide that I will call Sonia tomorrow and ask her to help me find somebody.
I feel Maxim’s presence just as I am beginning to wash the last dish. I don’t even have to see him to know he is in this space. The air crackles and my body lights up whenever he is anywhere near me. I hear his expensive leather shoes lightly click behind me and then his heat is at my back.
I take a deep breath and let it out as I wash the cheese and pasta sauce that is stuck to the dish. Maxim’s hands slowly slide around my waist as his head dips and his chin rests on my shoulder. I take a deep breath, enjoying not only his touch but also the simple way he is holding me.
“How was your day, my beautiful wife?” His voice is so soft.
I feel my heart swell with pride. I am proud that he thinks I am beautiful, that he chose me to be his, and that he cares for me. Also, that he cares enough to inquire about my day.
“Long. Sonia introduced me to a group of women who are married to men you work with,” I admit, drying the now clean dish.
I turn around in his arms and face my handsome husband. His brows are furrowed, and he looks confused. It is a lovely look for him; he looks so young.
“Were they nice to you, angel moy? They better have been. I will not tolerate anybody being mean to you anymore,” he almost growls. I smile, though, inside, I am grinning like a fool.
“They were leery of me at first, but once Sonia told them how Catia has been
dismissed, they all rallied together and discussed their distaste for her. Just like that, I was accepted.” I slide my hands up his chest to wrap around his neck, my fingers toying with the soft, thick hair at his nape.
Maxim’s head dips down and he kisses the corner of my lips, my cheek, and then my collarbone as his hands travel down to my ass, gripping me tightly.
“Never again, angel moy. Catia is no longer a worry. I hope you realize this?” he asks, his breath tickling my skin. I sigh, arching my body even closer to his—craving the contact of his steel body against me.
“I am trying, Maxim. I truly am,” I whisper, my insecurity raw and out in the open.
Maxim slowly slides the zipper of my dress down my back and lets the fabric fall to the floor, leaving me barefoot and in only my panties and strapless bra.
“So beautiful, golubushka, and all mine,” he moans.
Maxim pulls a knife out of the back of his pants and grabs the expensive silk panties I am wearing before he cuts them off my body. I shake with fear and apprehension. He grins at me setting the sharp object on the counter before he pulls a gun out of his waistband as well, setting it aside.
He then wraps those same hands around my hips and I look down at the contrast. Maxim has his dark, golden tattooed skin pressed against my creamy white. It looks like danger lies against me, and I shiver with anticipation.
This man is oozes danger, he is scary, and he is all mine. I rip the bra off my body and send it flying as Maxim lifts me to rest my ass against the countertop’s edge. I automatically spread my legs in sudden impatience.
“What do you want, Haleigh?” he murmurs, a faint smile on his lips. I can feel my body quaking, waiting and wanting whatever he wishes to offer.
“You, Maxim, just you,” I whisper as I watch him strip the clothes from his body.
My eyes take in all of his tattooed, muscular form, and my mouth waters. Every inch of him is fascinating.
Maxim drops on his star adorned tattooed knees, tattoos I have just noticed in the brightly lit kitchen, and kisses the inside of my ankle, my thigh, and finally my core. His tongue slowly slides through my center, flicking against my clit and then sucking it deep.
Owned by the Badman (Russian Bratva Book 1) Page 8
