Page 47 of Viripotent

It’s distorted with being older than her and she shakes her head.

“That tells peopleyouare a Vartanov.” Straightening, she points to her finger and continues. “That, is a Vartanov claim. But I’m not one, and I deserve my own.”

She loses some of her anger as I grab a fresh piece of ice and she actually waits for my confirmation. She’s covered the marks on her neck, and I cup her nape tracing the lines hidden under her makeup. Softening my voice as much as I’m able to, I stroke along her jaw with my thumb.

“You will never own me. Or brand me. I belong to no one.”

The anger comes back, and she moves her head back to evade my touch.

“Why do you have to be such a fucking prick all the time?”

Her outburst has my fingers itching to wrap around her neck. Gripping her hair at her scalp instead, she glares up at me and I press the ice harder to keep her hand in place. She doesn’t allow me a breath to remind her about her tongue and sadness coats her features.

“Did I do something to you I don’t know about?”

My brows come together, and I move my head back confused as fuck at what she’s saying.

“Why the fuck do you hate me Vlad?”

The small voice makes me feel weird, and the truth comes out.

“I don’t. I’d have to feel something for you to hate you.”

It’s not a lie. Hate requires some betrayal or expectation of more. The only thing I expect her to do is give me an heir, once that’s completed she’s no longer of use to me.

She takes it as an insult, and tears line her lashes as she deflates. It’s uncomfortable as fuck witnessing it when there’s usually a smartass comment. Her mouth opens again, speaking to herself and my entire body turns rigid.

“This is the man I’m supposed to have a child with, you would destroy it before it was a year old.”

Lead drops in my stomach and every muscle in my body. I let her go and take a step back controlling myself, so she doesn’t know how much those exact fucking words affect me. It takes everything in me not to push them down her throat and I move further away when my hands itch.

I keep walking until I’m out of the room and pick up a random set of keys not giving a single fuck over who will throw a tantrum in the morning. I need release, it’s not sexual release but aggression. Someone has to pay for my sins, and I don’t look back as I leave the house. The door doesn’t click, and the sound of heels follow me.This fucking woman is going to driveme crazy; she’s given her stupid fucking quip hitting the only weakness I have and now she wants to follow me.

Ignoring Inessa’s mouth, and presence, she becomes inescapable getting in the passenger seat before I can throw her out.

“I told you not to abandon me.”

She has a death wish or enjoys being in danger constantly fucking running towards me. Buckling herself in like we’re going shopping, she looks at me like I’m an idiot and bugs her eyes out.

“Drive then.”

Why the fuck couldn’t she have had a sister? Or even a brother, I’d fake being gay over dealing with Inessa. I’d have chosen Maximoff’s favorite fucking dog as a bride if I was given the option and it would get me where I need. It would be quieter hearing that bark than her constant chatter.

But I don’t push her out and she sits primly in the seat as I drive towards the warehouse we use away from any other business under the Bratva. Her head turns looking for a reference point. Anastasia has already left, and Dima’s car is parked at the back when we get out. Before more noise can leave the hole in her face, I glare at her lips making them close.

“Good girl, now walk and make sure they stay shut.”

My previous assumption that Inessa is a pillow princess is bullshit, she’s a brat and needs to feel in control. Also translates as hard fucking work.

She stays in step with me as we enter the warehouse and I ignore her. The next time Valentin throws a fucking tantrum I’m siccing my bride on him. Her mouth not only rivals his outburst, but she’ll outdo him. I trade places with Dima and his brows go up seeing her sitting like a queen in the chair that did have his things on. She’s piled them on the floor beside her and has her legs crossed dressed in a white dress surrounded by blood. Theonly thing saving her is those pouty lips being closed.She carries authority too well, too naturally, and he doesn’t question it.

Shrugging to himself and accepting the change, he drags the dead fucker away and goes to get the next in the lineup. There’s only curiosity on Inessa’s face as she examines the space like it’s an art exhibit and her anger comes back seeing me remove my shirt. The lips that will haunt me until the day I die, open when my fingers go to my belt, and she spits out, “Are you going to fuck someone right in front of me?”

I’m going to start paying myself every time she speaks when she’s told to shut up. I’ll have a couple of million by the end of the year.

My belt buckle clangs like a gavel with each step I take until I’m in front of her and I don’t put out the flames of her anger. Stoking them higher, I gesture to the door.

“You don’t have to watch what you’ve never experienced.”

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