Page 61 of Unleashed

“Rafail,” I whisper. “Are you serious?”

“Of course.”

“Why?” I whine.

“I have a business meeting, and it’s in my family’s best interest if you join me.” He gives me a wicked smile. Tipping his head to the side, he clucks his tongue. “Surely, you don’t have any plans on disobeying your husband in public, do you?”

I blink and shake my head wordlessly.

“Good,” he says, satisfied. “Because I’m very much looking forward to your reward.”

Chapter 17

RAFAIL

Turnsout it was Rodion risking his life by interrupting us when she was sitting on my face.

Years later, Rodion sometimes still needs the fear of god put in him. As a boy, he’d tested the patience of saints and devils alike. These days, I’ve eased up on him a bit; he’s managed to avoid the staggering amount of trouble he once found himself in.

My wife is pouting and trying to pretend she isn’t. I spoiled her at first. I couldn’t help it. She was so eager for anything and everything in the bedroom—she was putty in my hands.

But she loves when I tease her. She loves being edged. She’ll come like she never has before, even if I have to torture her a little to get there.

And shewilllearn to yield to my authority. I won’t ever back down andwillinsist. She has no choice. It’s the only real way I can keep her safe.

“Now, Rafail,” she says, holding onto my arm as we go downstairs. “You can’t forget it’s Rodion’s birthday.”

Shit. Ididforget.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” she says, her lips twitching. Anissa’s been able to forego her crutches and walk on her cast, but she still needs a little assistance.

I shrug.

“Did you have birthday celebrations for them growing up?”

“Um.”

“Rafail,” she says reproachfully. How can I tell her I had more important things to tend to? I was holding together an empire, finding my way as a man, and maintaining my family’s legacy. And my parents never made too big of a deal of birthday celebrations.

“We did,” she says with a smile before her words catch up with her. She pauses, gripping the railing for support. “We did. I know we did. I had a mother. Brothers. She made a big deal of birthdays. She made sure we had our favorite food and cake and lavished us with gifts. I can… I can still see a room decorated in pink and gold and a huge pile of gifts waiting for me.” Turning to me, she looks distrustful and confused. “But you said I didn’t have brothers.”

She didn’t. I don’t know why she keeps bringing this up.

“I promise you, Anissa, you had no brothers.” Jesus, if she did, I’d have a lot more to worry about than I do. “Listen, I know you remember brothers, but maybe you had a large extended family? I don’t know. Cousins? I have a few myself.”

“I know,” she says quietly, her normally placid brow troubled. “But… I don’t think they were cousins.”

“Alright.”

“Anyway,” she says, shaking her head. “That doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you wish Rodion a happy birthday, you partake in the birthday festivities, and tonight, we have dinner with your whole family.”

I nod. “Fair enough.” I scratch at my chin. “So what did we get him for his birthday?”

I gave her a credit card last week and carte blanche to buy what she wanted. I thought she might be too timid at first to use it, but it seems another package or three turn up at the doorstep every day. “Pillows for the bedroom,” she said. “You need more color in the office,” or, “I really do need some more yoga pants.”

I don’t care. She can buy anything she wants. She’s prettied up our bedroom with her signature touch. It’s more feminine, and I like it.

“I got him one of those traditional Russian daggers.”

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