Page 17 of Bred To Be Owned

“You’re too valuable to be left unattended, and when you’re mine, I’ll have no problem replacing Angelo as your guard.”

“That will never happen. I’m just another commodity to be sold, and you’ve already bought.” There was a bite to my tone that I couldn’t hide. There was no one to save me. I could only rely on myself, and it made me angry all over again.

“You’re angry, malenkaya lisichka. Why?”

“I’m not angry,” I lied. I wanted him gone so that I could wallow in my self-pity.

“You are, but it’s alright. You don’t have to tell me. I already know.”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, not bothering to offer a response.

I could feel him crossing his arms over the back of the chair, near the top of my head. “It’s alright,” he repeated. “Be angry. My wedding is in a month, and I’m warning you, malenkaya lisichka. The only gift I want from you is between your legs.” I felt him kiss the top of my head.

I didn’t hear him walk out of the library, but we had limited time. Someone would come searching for him, and it would be disastrous if they found us together. Yet my body was on fire at the mere thought of spending the night with him, which made me angry all over again.

Chapter 10

Toula

Irini was a beautiful bride.

I was grateful the Russian had requested a small ceremony. My mother had made wedding plans, but my father had shut her down over breakfast one morning. She’d tried to tell him that a small, intimate wedding wouldn’t do anything for either side. She argued that a large production would show the Russians our success, forcing them to recognize our superiority. My father had told her no, which had caused even more conjecture to what the marriage contract had stipulated. There were whispers in the hallways that the Russian had made my father a deal that was almost too good to be true. They also talked about how my father had said yes to most things about the wedding because he didn’t want the Russian to back out. I could have told him that wasn’t the case, but no one had asked me, and I didn’t volunteer the information.

I watched from the front pew as my father walked my sister down the aisle. It made me wonder if my parents weren’t taking any chanceswith Irini’s cooperation. I had visions of her turning around at the altar and taking off, her veil floating behind her as she ran. A smile floated on my lips at the image, but before it could settle, my mother pinched my side. She didn’t chastise me, but I knew. We needed to be somber in church. My smile dropped, and I maintained the aloof expression that would work to appease my mother.

Once my father passed Irini off, he sat at the end of the pew. My mother was next to him, with me on her other side. Katalina and Sophia filled in the rest, with a guard positioned at the very end of the row. It was a simple church service, where only the most senior members of each faction were in attendance. The blonde frat boy sat in the front pew on the Russian’s side. He was next to an older, well-dressed man, whom I recognized as their pahkan.

The reception immediately followed at one of the Russian-owned convention centers. This was the first union, marriage and business, between us and the Russians, and every associate wanted a chance to network. These were new connections, and with them came new opportunities for more money. I didn’t blame them, but I also didn’t want to take part. This time, I was important, and I couldn’t escape the social game. My father had let it circulate that I was opening his next club in a year. There were people who had wanted to make my acquaintance, but mostly, I floated from one conversation to another. I never stopped long enough for anyone to monopolize my time. I just wanted this night to be over.

The Russian walked Irini into the reception hall. Most people ignored the blank stare on her face. They were too busy enjoying the reception to care about her mental state. The only consolation to this nightmare was that she didn’t cry. She never left her chair, her hands clasped together in her lap. The Russian checked on her at least once a half hour, but I was trying not to pay attention. Making sure I wasfacing the opposite direction, I couldn’t handle watching him bend in front of her. He would clasp his hands over hers and whisper in her ear. He’d been doing it the entire night. Irini barely acknowledged him, but it was enough to keep everyone happy.

It was towards the end of the night when he slipped out of the reception hall door with Irini on his arm. I waited another hour, and then I made my excuses. The bride’s family customarily stayed at the venue, and my father had instructed the guards to escort us directly to our rooms. This wasn’t his territory, and while we were safe enough, no one was going to take an unnecessary risk.

Angelo walked behind me, but when I approached my door, all he said was to stay put. I rolled my eyes as I walked in, wanting to slam the door in his face, but I let it latch instead. The sound lingered in the room’s stillness. Laying the back of my head against the door, I took a minute to breathe.

My mind wanted to relive the night in the library. He had asked for a wedding gift, and I was excited to see how far I could push him to break. However, every time that thought came to the surface, I immediately felt guilty. I never considered my undesirable status in these moments, and that thought alone should have scared me enough to abandon this path.

Kicking my heels off, I unzipped the dress I’d worn, throwing it on top of my suitcase. A shower sounded like heaven, and all I wanted to do was wash this day down the drain. I couldn’t worry about the future. I was my father’s daughter, and I would deal with whatever was thrown at me with complete control. My mother never looked over her shoulder or questioned if she’d made the correct choice. I would channel that same energy.

I leaned against the shower wall, letting the water pour over me, each droplet of water washing away a wedding memory, until therewas nothing left. Finishing, I wrapped a towel around my body, securing it with a knot. I didn’t bother with my nightly routine, not really caring. I went to turn off the light in the bathroom, and that’s when a shadow passed in front of the door. My heartbeat raced as the shadow moved backwards. A gasp escaped me as someone turned off the bedroom lamp that I had left on.

There were no weapons in the bathroom, but if I could reach a lamp in the bedroom, I could use it as a bat. I wasn’t afraid of fighting back, but the towel was going to be a problem. Being dressed would have given me an advantage. I counted to three before I moved towards the door, preparing to run. A man was sitting on the bed. His head hung low, yet his eyes focused on me. The window curtains were wide open, the full moon on display as it cast rays of light around the room. The shadows danced on his face, and I took a deep breath when I recognized the Russian. I was only in danger of losing my heart.

Neither of us said a word.

His eyes roamed me from head to toe as I relaxed, leaning against the doorway. I didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there, but it was obvious the Russian had intervened in his own wedding night. Still dressed in his tuxedo, his hands dangled in between his knees as he cracked each knuckle. Not a hair had been out of place at the reception, but now it stood on end, as if he’d been pulling at it. His gaze seared the towel, and I reached for the knot to make sure that it was still tight. The Russian crooked his finger at me.

Deep in my subconscious, I was aware I didn’t want to be with any other man but him. We had been damned from the moment he stepped out of the shadows of that patio. It was ironic that we only thrived in the darkness. There was no fairytale ending for us. Just tonight.

I wouldn’t cower, and I wouldn’t lower my head and play the vestal virgin. If this was going to happen, it would be on my terms. I’d pack the memories away for a rainy day and wonder what could have been later.

Walking towards him, I didn’t stop until my knees hit the edge of the mattress, standing between his legs.

The Russian loosened the knot of my towel, letting it fall to the floor. I felt his eyes roam over my naked flesh. They started at the top of my head, down my breasts, to the apex of my thighs. I tried to rub my legs together, so that there wasn’t much visible, but he caught the motion. His eyes darkened, his nostrils flared, and I thought it made him look like a starved animal. He was hungry, and I was his last meal. The intensity made me nervous, and I didn’t want to ask him if that was normal. Shivers ran up and down my spine, and I focused on the moon in the window.

He gripped my hips in his hands, and I let out a gasp, bringing my focus back to him. His strength surprised me, even though I didn’t care if he left a bruise. No one would know, but I’d wear it like a badge of honor. Leaning forward, he laid his forehead against my stomach. He blew out a deep breath, and I felt it against my skin as he whispered, “I am going to Hell.”

I didn’t have the heart to respond to him. He was a made man. I was a mafia princess. Chances were good that we’d pay for our crimes. Karma was a cruel bitch like that.

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