Page 32 of His to Ruin

I turn my head to look at him. While I feel like a sweaty mess, he doesn’t show any signs of having exerted himself. The man clearly has greater stamina than me.

“Did you come?” I ask, my voice tinged with uncertainty.

“Yes,malyskha.I came harder than I thought possible.”

I wring my hands together as anxiety grips me. “So, I guess we’re compatible, then.”

Piotr strokes my arm. “When it comes to fucking, at least.”

That’s not the reassurance I was seeking, but I guess it’s something I can build on. This marriage may not have been what I planned for my life, but I’m going to make it work.

I shiver as a cold waft of air breezes over me. Piotr draws the sheet across the bed to cover us. It strikes me as a sweet gesture. Perhaps he has a caring side. Snuggling under his arm, I revel in the closeness. I shut my eyes and will myself to sleep.

CHAPTER 11

Piotr

Olivia slept for most of our flight, waking only to dress in wide black pants and a white blouse before taking her seat for landing. I watched her for hours, basking in her serenity. My life is hectic with legitimate deals and Bratva business competing for my time. It’s rare I sit back and enjoy a moment of stillness. There were ways I could have occupied myself while Olivia was asleep. A hundred emails awaited my response. But I couldn’t take my eyes off my woman.

There’s something about Olivia that makes me feel things I never have before. I know I didn’t get the whole truth out of her about Dario Maroni and the message she received at the wedding, but I found myself unable to keep pushing her. The way she sobbed over being called a slut told me all I needed to know about the photographs I have in my possession. It left her feeling worthless.

When I saw her tears, something stirred deep inside me. An instinct to protect this woman rose to the surface. I will allow no man to hurt her, not even me.

“What are you doing to me?” I murmur as I brush the hair back from her face.

She fell asleep again the moment we got into the car, but she doesn’t appear to be resting as peacefully as she did on the plane. Her nose is scrunched up as if she’s grappling with some minor irritation. I guess the back of a car, even one as luxurious as this, is not the most comfortable place to slumber. Thankfully, the drive to Sev’s building, where we’ll be staying for the next seven days, will only take thirty minutes. I have something planned for Olivia at the apartment, but I may have to put her straight to bed and surprise her in the morning instead.

As we drive through the city, I turn to glance out of the window. It’s still early, but already Paris is coming to life. Municipal workers sweep the streets and collect garbage. Vendors arrive at their stores to prepare for the day ahead. This is my favorite time, before the masses wake.

When Marko, the driver Sev has loaned me for the week, pulls up at the apartment, I get out of the car first and go around to Olivia’s side. I carefully unbuckle her seatbelt and lift her into my arms. By some miracle, neither the sudden manhandling nor the whisper of cold air on her skin wakes her.

“Have our bags taken up to the apartment, but tell the housekeeper to leave the unpacking until this afternoon,” I tell Marko.

Sev’s building is an eighteenth-century apartment block with no elevator, so I carry her up the narrow staircase to the third floorwhere our accommodations are. The apartment is below Sev’s penthouse. I don’t have my own place in the city, but that may change, depending on how much Olivia enjoys being here. Paris is one of the few places I spend time that I don’t own a home in. I have apartments in London, New York, Las Vegas, Florence, and Rome, as well as a villa in Majorca and a bungalow in Sri Lanka. Buying a Paris pied-à-terre won’t make a dent in my bank balance, but it might be a worthwhile addition to my property portfolio.

As I step into the apartment and shut the door behind us, Olivia stirs in my arms. Her eyes pop open and she looks around.

“Damn,” she says sleepily. “I missed it.”

“Missed what?”

“You carrying me over the threshold.”

I furrow my brow in consternation. I didn’t realize she cared about those sorts of tradition. “Isn’t that just for our own home?”

Olivia shrugs. “I don’t know. I just wanted to…”

Her voice trails off. She doesn’t know why she wanted to experience the moment. I suspect she’s trying to create something romantic out of our union. It’s not a priority for me, but I guess I can give her that.

“You want me to take you outside and carry you back in?”

The suggestion is so absurd I can’t believe I’m making it, but Olivia’s face brightens with a huge smile. “Please.”

It’s impossible to deny her. As I open the door and walk back out into the corridor, Marko gets up from the seat where he’s posted himself to ensure nobody enters the apartment without ourknowledge. I shake my head to let him know he’s not needed. Olivia reaches for the handle of the door and closes it.

“Okay, Mrs. Rezanova.” I open the door and enter the apartment once more. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you.” She stretches up to kiss me with her soft, warm lips.

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