Page 32 of Viparious

I don’t understand this man, he kills people. On more than one occasion, I’ve seen him covered in blood, and I never even blinked, knowing what he is, but his requirements for everyone’s safety are strict.

Don’t ride the horses without a helmet, don’t leave the pool cover off, don’t suck my dick while I’m driving even though we’re both in need. It’s all strange, especially with the windows. Vlad will lose his shit if a window is left open at night. There could be a heatwave, and the air conditioning could break, but he would rather die than allow the window to be open while anyone sleeps.

He wraps his hand around my thigh, stopping me from clenching harder. Grinding my hips down instead, the vibrations suddenly stop, and he’s still hard in my hand. He squeezes my thigh three times as he calmly shows his control.

“You’re not going to come until we’re at home. No one gets to see or hear what isn’t meant for them.”

I stare out of the window as anger works through me and move my hand away from his undone belt.

It’s all rooted in frustration, not just carnal but mental. I want to understand him, to have him in my life in a cemented place. But he’s too controlled and focused on his one goal of taking over the world or whatever the fuck else he’s plotting that it will never happen. He has secret phone calls and a phone that holds no contacts or logs but is always in his possession. He doesn’t even allow anyone else inside, he’s covered himself in brutality as a defense.

My stupid, traitorous heart wantshim, the man, the devil, the violence, everything. I don’t care about what he’s capable of, or how many deaths he’s responsible for. I don’t even care that I know he’s using me to solidify his position because he does little things that tell me to trust his actions rather than any previous agreement.

* * *

I remindmyself for the thousandth time that there’s press and too many witnesses, I stop my hands from killing Vlad. His stupid fucking smirk comes over the top of his tumbler as he slides his phone back into his pocket, and I step down from the podium on shaky legs. I’ve heard of edging, but this is just sadistic fucking torture, constantly building me up to never allow me release. My brain knows it’s not going to happen, and my body ignores every signal confirming it.

The other Vartanovs have managed to behave themselves with Ana, Stasya, and Dima joining our table, keeping them occupied. Keeping my shoulders straight and my face blank, I’m only focused on how to destroy my husband’s phone when the mayor blocks my path. I hate this prick; he pretends to care about citizens and whatever other bullshit manages to get him votes, but he’s a slimy bastard with no integrity. I may have been raised within the Bratva, but I’ve never met a criminal worse than a corrupt official.

His lips are wet as he kisses my cheek, making my insides recoil, and I stop myself from swiping at my face to get him off.

“You’ve done a fine job tonight. I’m sure your grandfather is proud. Where is Maximoff?”

I wonder if his lips are wet when he kisses Grandfather’s ass too or is that only reserved for my cheek. I don’t have time to answer his question when a warm hand lands on my back, and Vlad overshadows everything, holding out his inked, brutal hand.

“It’s poor manners to kiss a man’s wife, especially when you haven’t greeted him.”

The low, deadly tone doesn’t call anyone else’s attention, and the gentleman is all they can see as he threatens the mayor without saying a single violent word.

The mayor takes his hand and winces as his fingers bleach white from the force. Vlad pulls him closer and continues with the thinly veiled threat.

“I’m sure there was no disrespect on your part.”

He nods his head in agreement, to save his own life. I smile the polite, practiced smile I was taught. I’d rather be watching pimple-popping videos with Vitali and Viktor, but being the heiress means these parties and galas have been the norm for as long as I can remember. It’s all bullshit to try to legitimize relationships and show your bank balance. But right now, it’s working in my favor as my devil effectively goes in the mayor’s pocket, forcing his donation.

“How much have you helped the citizens of your own city? You are aware my wife isn’t even a resident of any of your boroughs?”

I zone out, not paying attention, as I lean into Vlad’s side at his claim.

After adding a few zeroes on the initial donation, Vlad is satisfied and dismisses him. He guides us away and without moving his lips, says. “Don’t allow any of these pricks to see you uncomfortable.”

I straighten my shoulders and stand taller, but he stiffens as we approach the bar. The head of every family is standing, staring down at Viktor as he stands in front of Horatio Verelli. The harsh stares have me wanting to rip him away from them.

“Where is Mara?”

There’s an order in his tone as he asks for my business partner. Xiomara may be kind and one of the most beautiful souls I’ve ever met, but her husband is the head of the ‘Ndrangheta for fuck’s sake. His hard stare comes up, calling Gio forward and instructing him to take Viktor to see Mara, and I can breathe. There’s not enough time to remind Vlad to not be himself, and they’re like deadly teenagers passing hate through their eyes.

Repositioning himself on my other side, Vlad puts his body between me and the other three. It’s stupid when they’ve all visited Steorra and could easily kill me on the days they pick up their wives, but I leave that information out. My attention is diverted from ensuring they all behave as Parker sips her martini and exchanges niceties.

“Marriage suits you, dear.”

She’s an older woman, a guardian Angel who never asks for anything and has been there for the children since the doors opened.

The devil on my other side is vibrating with excited anger and I’m more focused on his conversation with Verelli.

“I heard you were dead.”

My stomach sinks at his commentary and the rumors about Vlad. If Vlad kills him now, I won’t even be angry. He laughs lightly full of bullshit and taps in his pattern of three, three, four on my back with his thumb. The pattern is wrong and that should be my first warning when it’s always the same set of three.

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