Page 70 of Brutal Promise

IZZY

We’re in the limo that picked us up at the airport, and I wonder if it’s armored. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that we’re driving on the opposite side of the road. I’m nervous about crossing streets after Dmitry told me about all the Americans who get hit by cars yearly because they forget to look both ways before crossing. Good thing I will have a bodyguard to keep me safe, assuming traffic comes under the purview of his protection.

The air is cold, bitter cold. I’m in Dmitry’s coat, but I still shiver. I discreetly sniff the lapels and breathe in the familiar scent of my fiancé.

I pull my phone out of my purse and text Alena.

Me:We’re here. It’s late. I’m wired. What’s happening at home?

Alena:Nothing to report. I got an invitation to your wedding. We’re taking the jet with Alexsei. His family is coming too! Can

Me:Really? Is this wedding that important?

Are the Volkovs that big? According to Alena, they’ve been in Russia since the collapse of the Soviet Union and have expanded significantly in recent years.

Alenea:If you want respect, it’s a show of power and unity. That’s why a mob hit at a wedding is so personal. Remember in The Godfather when Sonny gets married, and then he remarries?

Me:Oh gee, don’t curse me. I’m doing this to stay alive. I’d rather elope.

Alena:Your wedding serves a purpose and sends a message. But there’s no reason you can’t enjoy all the glitz and glamour, woman!

Me:I suppose. I’ll text you later.

Alena:Send me all the deets on your day.

Dmitry is silent until I look his way. Then his stoic face turns to me.

“Are you concerned about something?” I ask. The thought of my big day being someone’s last day weighs heavily on me. I pray that won’t happen.

“Mm?” Dmitry looks distracted. He turns to me like I pulled him out of a trance.

“Why the long face? I thought you were happy to be home,” I quip.

It’s obvious Dmitry loves his family. I’m sure they’ve been through a heap of shit together. And his father dying so suddenly makes me wonder if that isn’t pushing hisI want a babyagenda. He hasn’t said the words, but why else would he make me beg for him to fuck me, knowing a baby is a real possibility? I can’t resist him. I don’t even try. I have no problem begging because I’m addicted to his body and massive cock. I’m not ashamed to admit it. I have needs, and being with him makes the hole in my heart less empty.

I want family attachments, even if they’re complicated and I don’t understand what they’re saying. Life has hardened me.

I was always the odd one out on holidays. Aunt Emma is much older and is a widow who never had children. She told me she helped my mom and treated her like a daughter, so raising me was like having a granddaughter. I wish I could get a message to her, but I can’t have anyone else dying because of me. We’re not that close, but she’s the only family I have left.

“By the way, we have a housekeeper,” Dmitry finally speaks.

“A housekeeper?” I’m shocked. “I don’t need that. I can clean a house, Dmitry.”

“I’m sure you can, but Volkovs don’t clean houses.”

“I wasn’t born a Volkov.”

Streetlights illuminate his face as we drive past them. I can see his eyes narrow, expressing his displeasure and putting me in my place.

“No, you weren’t, but by association, you are one. Besides, the house is too large for one person to run. We have a chef, too.”

“Most couples discuss things like this,” I huff.

“We are not most couples,” he says with a smug grin that ends the argument.

“This must be some house.”

“I think you will like it.” He goes back to staring out the window.

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