“That can’t happen again, Caroline,” he says. “Do you understand?”
I nod, and swallow hard.
“Good.” His voice hardens and he removes his arms from me. He’s done with this. “Now, I’ll not have my wife walking around dressed in clothes like these.” He plucks me off his lap and stands me in front of him. “Remove them.”
I blink. Of course this is what he’ll do next, and I hate it. The vulnerability vanishes, and in its place, anger rushes in like a stampede. Powerful, destructive, and all-consuming.
I close my eyes and grit my teeth, resigned to my fate. By Bratva law, he has to consummate our marriage. But this isn’t my first rodeo.
He won’t be the first man who’s taken me against my will. I could resist him and fight him and face whatever punishment he gives me. I have no doubt this is what awaits me if I defy him.
Or, I could surprise him and do what he says.
But he’ll get no affection from me. No tenderness. He might as well fuck an ironing board for all the reaction I’ll give him. I know how to shut myself off from the physical, to take myself mentally to a place beyond the present. And every time I do, the wall I build up around my heart gets thicker, stronger, a veritable fortress against any and all emotion that even hints at intimacy.
“Fine,” I tell him, lifting my chin and meeting his eyes. He doesn’t blink or look away but narrows his eyes. I suppose he’s prepared to punish me again if he needs to, but he won’t have to. I’m not going to disobey his majesty.
My hands travel to my bulky clothes as I hold his gaze. I hope he doesn’t like what he sees. It’s easier for me to hate him if I see repulsion in his eyes rather than lust. And he’s stuck with me.
I used to be thin and lithe, but that was before my innocence was taken. I’ve let my body grow curvy and full.
The truth is, he’s wed to a woman scarred inside and out. He chose me, so he’ll deal with what he’s got. Forever. And he may have punished me for pulling a knife on him, but he’s married no submissive wallflower.
“Of course you want me naked,” I tell him. “Isn’t that what they all want?”
“I wouldn’t know,” he says, his eyes narrowed on me. “I’ve never been married before. You?”
I huff out an angry breath. “Well, no.”
“Then how do you presume to know what all husbands want from their wives?”
I look at him in surprise. Is he joking? But no, there isn’t an ounce of humor in his eyes, and he holds his body erect.
“If you didn’t want to have a ready-made fuck toy, then why did you want me?”
“Ready-made fuck toy,” he mutters to himself. “Have to admit, I like the sound of that.” Then he sobers and shakes his head, and his tone grows curious. “Do you know my role in the Bratva, Caroline?”
“Of course not,” I snap. “I know nothing about any of this. I was taken from my home, forced to wear a veil, and told I had no choice but to marry you. I…” I swallow hard and my voice tightens with the realization that hits me. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Tomas.”
“Tomas,” I repeat. “And you’ll… expect me to call you by name?”
He shrugs a shoulder. “Sometimes. Though sometimes I’ll demand sir.”
I nearly snort out loud. Also, not a surprise.
I’ve taken vows to this man. I’ve kissed him and gone over his lap for a spanking. I’m about to strip, and I just found out his name. It’s ludicrous. Completely backwards. But then again, this is Bratva life. I’m only a pawn in this, and I know it. I always have been.
“You know I am Bratva, Caroline,” he says thoughtfully. “But did you know I am pakhan?”
Shit. I had no idea he was the king of a group, at the absolute pinnacle of leadership. I’ve seen over the years how the pakhan gets whatever he wants, how he’s king of his domain.
And I’m his wife.
“A leader in my position does well to have a wife,” he says. “Your brother owed me a favor.”
That’s what I’ve become? A favor.
“Lovely,” I mutter, and at that, I can tell I’ve pushed him too far. His eyes narrow and his spine stiffens. My mouth goes suddenly dry.
“This conversation is over. We’ll talk later. Now, your only job is to do as I say. Go to the bedroom.” He points to the bedroom. “And strip.”Chapter 5TomasI watch my wife undress, trying to remain aloof and detached. I don’t want her to know how she affects me. I’ve already demonstrated more tenderness than I wished to show this early. Those under the authority of another obey for two reasons: love or fear. Since we don’t love one another and may never, fear is the only option. If I show this woman too much leniency, she won’t learn to fear me.