Page 18 of Unveiled

“Always the master manipulator of words, aren’t you?” she snaps, her tone cutting.

“Not at all. I don’t manipulate anything. There’s no need. I speak the truth and don’t bother to sugarcoat.” I lean in, my voice in her ear. “So listen well, little Anya.”

She shifts uncomfortably. Good. I want her uncomfortable. Questioning. Off-kilter.

I need control.

“You took your vows to me in the presence of my family to save yours. That took courage, but you didn’t have much of a choice. I’ve allowed you to push back. I haven’t punished your disrespect.Yet.”

Her pulse flutters beneath my hand, and my dick springs to life.

“But we’re atmyhome now. I have people who work for me. Staff. Men under my control who’ve sworn their lives to me. Here, little Anya, you do not disrespect me. I promise you, if you do, Iwillpunish you. I know you haven’t been well-schooled in the expectations of my world, so consider this your first lesson.”

I flex my palm and lean on my forearm, caging her in as I hold her gaze.

Her fiery gaze locks onto mine, challenging me in a way no one has ever dared. She’s smaller, fragile, yet she stands as though she’s made of iron and steel. A goddamn queen in her own right.

“And what exactly does that mean, Semyon?” Her voice is low and cutting. “Punish me how? What else can you take from me?” She can’t hide the way her lower lip trembles.

I catalog every breath, every micromovement. I imagine her tied up in my bed, handcuffed and vulnerable. I imagine her kicking her legs over my lap while I teach her manners. I imagine her screaming my name and begging to come while I hold back pleasure and make her earn her climax.

I sigh and brush my finger along the curve of her lower lip. It’s dry, a little chapped. She’s worked long hours at the bakery and tabled her self-care.

Noted.

“You don’t seem to fear me, little Anya.”

Her voice is small but her stance immovable when she responds. “What is there to fear when you’ve already lost everything?”

Oh, she hasn’t lost everything.

“So dramatic. I thought better of you.” I take my hand from her neck and place it on the other side of her head so she’s caged beneath me. “But you forget something.”

She doesn’t take the bait. Doesn’t respond. Only stares at me, trying desperately to hide her fear.

“I don’t play by the rules.”

Chapter 7

ANYA

I trudgedup to the house, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes. I didn’t want anyone to see me cry. Crying was a sign of weakness. My mother was at work—she had just opened the bakery—and my father… I hoped he wasn’t home.

The sun filtered through the trees, half blinding me because, at twelve years old, I was still too short to see much of anything. I just needed to get home, find a bandage, and I’d be fine.

Voices came from the back of the house, and I immediately recognized them. Shit. It was too late to turn around—they’d already seen me. Semyon and Eli. I turned and made my way toward the front door, but they were scrambling with something, hiding it under a pile of books. I didn’t care what it was—a cigarette, a dirty magazine, could’ve been anything. All that mattered was that they didn’t see me.

“Anya?” My brother’s voice traveled the short distance. I didn’t reply and kept walking. I heard Semyon say something to Eli in a low voice, and Eli gathered a bunch of things and ran to the back of the house. It was Semyon who came for me.

“Anya, what did you—” He froze when he saw me—my knees bloody, abrasions on my arms, tears welling up in my eyes. I looked away.

And then he ran. Heranto me. No one had ever run to me before.

“Who did this to you?” I knew by then he was part of the Bratva, so of course Semyon thought somebody had hurt me.

I shook my head. “No one did this to me.”

I told him the truth, but I could tell he didn’t believe me by the way his eyes darkened with doubt. His body language spoke louder than words.

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