Sold To The Russian

by Isabella Laase

  “If I want a job, I’ll find my own,” she said stubbornly. “But if I want a tattoo or go downtown with friends, I want to make that choice by myself, too.”

  “I concede that the tattoo was your decision to make, but you still could have told me. I would like to have been there, and maybe shared something special with you instead of giving that experience to Galena. But something like going downtown without telling me is unacceptable. I’d worry about you, and that’s part of being a couple.”

  “Are you planning on telling me where you are at all times?” she asked in a sassy tone.

  “No,” he grumbled, the hints of his temper rising to the surface. “I’m still in charge in this marriage. That’s non-negotiable and you know it.”

  “I thought nothing was non-negotiable?” she snapped with a tilt of her chin. “Or are you saying that we have this invisible line in our lives? Any decisions involving just me, or even the house, I can make as long as they don’t affect you?”

  “Life isn’t that simple, Zoya. I have to live here too, and honestly, I hate the wallpaper you picked out for the dining room. It looked like a florist shop exploded after a random terrorist attack.”

  “Why didn’t you just say so?” she asked incredulously. “I had other choices that I was interested in. You have a voice. Use it.”

  “I agreed because I didn’t want to hear you complain. I can’t say anything without you thinking it’s a direction.”

  “That’s because it usually is. You don’t really understand how to ask or compromise, you know that, don’t you?”

  “Because you don’t give me the chance!”

  “You gotta reach out and take the chances when they are in front of you, for God’s sake!”

  The rapid-fire give and take was getting them nowhere, and Pavel paused to regroup. Moving the cabinet next to the bed, he removed a packet of papers from the bottom drawer. “Look, I can be taught, to a certain extent, anyway. We admittedly have some communication and details to work on, but we’ve come pretty far in just a few months. And I was going to give this to you over a nice candlelight dinner with just the two of us, but I can’t wait.”

  He handed her the documents, but she stared at him, waving her hand to get the translation. “Oh, yeah,” he said, pointing to the first one. “I keep forgetting. That one is the deed to this house that I transferred to your name, and this one is a bank account, also in your name with a shit load of money in it. If invested properly, it will keep you in tattoos and therapy for the rest of your life.” She crinkled her nose, and he added sheepishly, “Okay, that didn’t come out right.”

  “What are you saying, Pavel? Now that we have the boys here as a family, are you moving out on me?”

  “No,” he said with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I haven’t proposed to a woman since I was four years old, and I’m not very good at it.”

  “Proposed? Pavel, we’re already married. That’s kind of what’s caused this mess, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  After spending hours planning this moment, Pavel dropped to one knee. “I love you, Zoya. I want to marry you… the right way. I want you by my side for the rest of our lives, to raise our sons as men who will make us proud. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and nobody else, but I made a tragic mistake with Marie. I want you to choose to be with me, not just because you have no other options. So, the house and the money, they are yours, no matter how you answer.”

  “You haven’t done this since you were four, huh?” she murmured, holding the deed in her shaking hands. “What did Marie say?”

  “We were in a sandbox,” he said with another sheepish grin. “She said that I was too dirty to marry, but she came around eventually. They all do.”

  “You’re still dirty,” she teased, running her hand through the residual mud in his hair. “You need a shower after crawling through that pipe. I guess some things never change.”

  “I was blessed to have Marie in my life, but I betrayed her by refusing to allow her father to take her back. Yuri’s parentage is just one of many heavy weights that I will bear for the rest of my life, but I won’t betray your trust, I swear to you. Choose me and the boys. We can’t make it without you.”

  “I believe you,” she said simply. “But if she’d truly wanted to leave you, she would have. It was a rough patch in your marriage, but it doesn’t define your entire relationship, so don’t be so hard on yourself.” She stopped to run her hand along his cheek and grinned. “But if you do betray my trust, I will probably stab you, so remember that.”

  He laughed, catching her hand to kiss the back of it, but she grew serious. “And what about Damir, Pavel? He isn’t going to go away.”

  “Damir can be handled. Instead of dismissing you as irrelevant, I plan on marrying you in the biggest, most public and formal event we can manage, and that should shut him up. In some ways, even Damir is answerable to his, let’s call them, constituents.”

  She lifted her chin with a sparkle in her eyes. “I… I can live with that, but I have a few requirements of my own. I want to be the Cleaver family. I want our children’s lives to be all about baseball games and playing outdoors with their friends. We’re going to have a big dinner every night, and we’re going to eat in the dining room with nice plates and cloth napkins, and you’re going to listen to them patiently with a stern smile.”

  “Well,” he drawled, as the sound of breaking glass came from the living room. He cringed, adding, “I think you might be a little unrealistic given the three monsters that we have to work with, but I’ll do my best. But I won’t eat meatloaf or even roast beef every night, I want good Russian food, and I expect it on my table when I come home from work or there will be consequences.”

  “Or Georgian food,” she reminded him with another arched eyebrow. “And you’ll need to take me out to dinner at least one night a week so I don’t have to cook. Twice if you choose to make me happy.”

  “Making you happy should be my goal so that you don’t stab me in my sleep,” he mused.

  “Underestimate me, Pavel,” she responded with a smirk. “I dare you, because you have no idea what I’m capable of.”

  “Have we reached an agreement, then? Because I want you to understand that ‘no’ isn’t an acceptable answer. No matter how independent you think you are, I’ll spank your ass to a shiny red if you tick me off.”

  “Let me make this clear, Pavel Petruskenkov.” She wrapped herself around his side. “I love you. I love taking care of this house and my family, and if being an American gives me the freedom to make that choice, then I choose all four of you.” Picking up the necklace from the bed, she added, “What are you going to do with this? Are you going to send it back to Damir?”

  “No fucking way. I’m not even going to mention it to him until Yuri is grown. There is no way in hell my mother would consider Jelena the most important member of our family. Even if he got it, greed will always look for something else, so it wouldn’t really change anything, but with this to fall back on, we have a nice cushion if for some reason we can’t get the cash to pay him out of the new businesses.”

  “I guess you can put it in a safe,” she said, adding a shrug. “Someday, the boys will be married and maybe it can go to one of their wives.”

  “You are the most important person in the family, Zoya,” he said, fastening the heavy jewelry around her neck. “Not just the most important female, but the most important person. You’ve brought to this house life and love and serenity. I can’t live without you, not professionally and certainly never personally. I need you in my life. This necklace is yours until you decide who the next recipient will be.”

  Her eyes were wide open with surprise, and he moved to kiss her when Yuri banged on the wall between his room and the master bedroom. “I’m hungry, Zoya! What can I have to eat?”

  Pavel sighed, lowering his head in mock defeat. ‘You know that we’re never going to have sex in this house again, don’t you?”

  Giggli
ng, she held her finger to her lips to shush him. “Yuri!” she shouted through the wall. “Downstairs on the counter is a chocolate cake and the bowl of frosting is next to it. You guys can frost the cake and each take a piece.”

  There was a few seconds’ delay before the eight-year-old responded, “All by ourselves? Any piece we want?”

  “Sure,” she said with a laugh. “Just don’t make a mess.”

  Yuri’s excited screams were heard all the way down the stairs, and Pavel turned to Zoya. “You do realize that you’ll be picking frosting out of their hair and the living room rug for weeks, and at least one of them will probably throw up from eating too much of it.”

  “Well,” she said, pushing him to the bed and dropping on top of him. “Maybe, Romeo, but I just bought you a half an hour with a hot, sexy Georgian woman wearing nothing but an emerald necklace. And Linda just needs to babysit here and there to guarantee us some sort of sex life. Somehow, I don’t think she’ll object.”

  Pavel raised his eyebrow and she added, “Maybe I don’t hate her as much as I thought I did. I’ll work on it, but we’re adding new sheetrock between the bedrooms to our renovation list. We need more privacy in here.”

  Wrapping his thigh around her waist, Pavel flipped her to her back, pinning her against the mattress and sliding his hand into her sweatpants to stroke her clit. “In that case,” he murmured, biting her neck. “I think it’s time I reminded you exactly who is the master of this relationship, little girl. And I don’t need a half an hour.”

  He released his cock and pulled her sweatpants to her thighs, hungry for her wetness. Pinning her arms above her head, he took her, thrusting into her core with enough force to make her gasp. He moved along her slick channel until she cried out, but she took everything he gave her. The signs of her climax drew closer, feeding his arousal until he was granted his own release and uniting them as one.

  Under Byzantine-inspired domes that defined the Russian Orthodox Church, they married the day after Christmas. Decorated for the holidays, the brightly colored stained-glass cathedral was filled with the traditional red and gold icons while the candles delivered the familiar aroma of incense. After many days of searching, Zoya had chosen a classic white dress and long veil made from Parisian lace. At his insistence, she wore her hair long, but Galena and her mother had done her makeup, neither of them trusting Zoya to do it properly. They only had three attendants, the little boys in tiny tuxedos that left them pulling uncomfortably at their collars and vests, but they remained clean and intact long enough to get a few formal family portraits.

  The reception was held at an expensive downtown hotel. Pavel’s sharply creased tuxedo made as sexy of an image as she’d ever seen, and he insisting on showing off his newfound skills at the traditional Georgian first dance. All of Brighton Beach was there, and several high-ranking members of Damir’s bratva attended from Russia, but in his first public attempt to pull away from his brother, Pavel had made it clear that Damir was not welcome to attend.

  Assured that her father was alive and well in Batumi, she was content not to have any of her family in attendance, but Pavel had agreed to help him financially, eliminating any guilt she might have been harboring. But Galena and Liam, Galena’s parents and siblings plus Anton’s rescuer, Vadik, were all there to support her. At Zoya’s insistence, Vadik had been given the job as Pavel’s personal bodyguard, making himself available twenty-four/seven to follow Pavel like an oversized shadow.

  Even Linda and Steven were welcoming, leaving her to wonder about Linda’s motivations, but she accepted the gesture as a start to their new, tentative friendship. Linda had agreed to take the boys and their brand new golden retriever puppy while Pavel and Zoya took an impromptu honeymoon to a Finger Lakes region lake house that Pavel had borrowed from Johannes Dzuiba.

  “I think you’ll like it,” he’d whispered deliciously while they were snuggled on the couch back at the Brighton Beach house. “It’s got an entire BDSM dungeon, but we can’t get in until Tuesday.”

  “My God,” she grumbled. “The man is like sixty years old. Are we still going to be doing all of this when we’re that old?”

  “I sure as fuck hope so,” he said, pulling her in for a hug and kissing the back of her neck. “Stay with me this afternoon. I can think of a lot of things that would keep us busy in this peaceful house all by ourselves.”

  “I told you. I’m going to run into Manhattan and look for a warmer dress. I don’t want to freeze my ass off up there. And no, before you say anything, I’m not going clothes shopping with you, Pavel. It’s clearly a no-brainer.”

  “Keep up that sassy attitude now,” he muttered, turning on the television. “Because that dungeon has a cage, and we’ll see how well you do with that.”

  Her clit pulsed in anticipation, but the errand needed to be completed before her real marriage could begin. At the downtown store on Fifth Avenue, she quickly located the navy blue wool dress that she’d already picked out. After paying for it, she walked down the street to her rented post office box to retrieve the parcel that had been delivered by overnight mail, keeping an eye on her surroundings with enough diligence to complete a major drug deal.

  The plain white envelope was too innocent for the life and death information stored on the inside. The expensive laboratory had run the test anonymously with a generic money order for payment. Yuri and Slavic had been told that they were being tested for strep throat, and she’d done Anton as well so their stories would coincide if they happened to mention it to anybody, including Pavel.

  There were many reasons for keeping this a secret from her husband, but in the end, one of them needed to know the truth to be prepared for the future. At that point in their lives, Damir might not demonstrate any active interest in Yuri, but his mood could change, bringing to their lives an unpredictable furor that could destroy all of them. She would be prepared to stop him, but to be prepared meant that she needed all of the information.

  In the alley behind the post office, she opened the envelope, still keeping her eagle eye on the street. She’d prepared herself for anything in the report, making it possible to keep her closed expression and rely on her stoicism and strength to deal with whatever it said. Filled with percentages and sequenced strands representing their genetic code, the three boys’ molecular structure was compared in a surprisingly few pages.

  When she had her answer, she assured herself that she was still alone. Taking the lighter from her pocket, she set fire to the paper, dropping it into the concrete sidewalk and waiting until it had burned to ashes before going home to her family.

  Epilogue

  New York, winter of 2020

  The beautiful wedding had succeeded in uniting the two unique families in a perfect display of color and elegance. Her sons, three fine men just as their father had predicted, were all in attendance in black tuxedos, standing by their cousin with pride. The food and wine had been excellent, and the music had lasted into the night.

  Changed into jeans and a polo shirt, Pavel turned on the television and sprawled on the bed in their hotel room. She went to kiss him on his forehead, but he dragged her on top of him, twisting his thigh over hers to roll her on her back and cover her with his frame. “Stay with me,” he demanded. “I haven’t had a moment alone with you in… I don’t know… hours.”

  “Stop,” she said with a giggle. “You know that I need to talk to him one more time before we meet with Luka tonight.”

  “Hmm…” he dismissed, slipping his hand into the bodice of her gown to rub across her nipple. “I do. But don’t think for a moment that I’m not keeping track of all this arrogance. Eventually, you will pay for this. The lake house with all of those toys is waiting for you. We’ll go there next weekend and take care of this.”

  “Yes, sir,” she whispered, rubbing her hand across the gray in his hairline. “And it was very nice of Johannes to sell it to you, but I’m guessing it had more to do with the fact that he didn’t want his daughter
s to find out about it in his estate than any male bonding experience between you.”

  “I suppose not,” he said, nibbling down her neck and sliding his hand into her panties until he located her clit. Rubbing softly, he added, “But I’m sure they will all understand if we’re a little late.”

  “That’s enough,” she said weakly, pushing aside that demanding ache that still followed his every move. “You’re wrinkling my dress.” He started to speak, and she added, “And no, I’m not going to take it off, so don’t even go there.”

  Pavel laughed as he let her go, and she moved to the mirror to straighten her dress and comb her hair. “Twenty-five years is a long time, Zoya,” he said affectionately. “And you’ve only given me one concussion and a few stitches over the years, so I guess we’ve been successful.”

  “That’s not funny,” she scolded. “I didn’t even see you behind me that day. It was an accident and you know it.”

  “Well, at least we both decided that you were not the best person to teach our sons how to swing a baseball bat. It’s a good thing they had good coaches, that’s all I have to say.” He moved his arms behind his neck, and she was well aware that he was watching her. Even after all those years, there was something about his presence that made her complete.

  “Do you have any regrets?” he asked seriously.

  “Regrets?” she repeated. “Regrets for knocking you unconscious with a baseball bat? Yes, that was regretful. I thought I’d killed you, Pavel.”

  “No,” he scoffed. “I mean regrets over us. Do you wish you’d taken the money and the house and nothing else? I know that I’m not the easiest man to live with.”

  “Pavel,” she said with a sigh. “You are my other half, my soul, and my breath. I couldn’t live without you and every day has been an adventure. Some days albeit were better than others, but we’ve grown from every fight we’ve ever had until we’ve reached the point where you can finish my sentences. And now—”