Page 36 of The Bratva Contract
“I see. I do apologize again for the distress you and your wife experienced. I can assure you personally that the properprotocols are being followed regarding her skills and patient communication?—”
“Her job,” he repeats.
The doctor visibly pales. I hold his gaze, making no move to temper Dima’s demand. I feel untouchable, shielded by the fearsome power at my shoulder who intends to guard me from even the slightest discomfort. Maybe if I’d been coddled growing up, I wouldn’t crave this, his insistence that I be treated as something precious. As it is, I lap it up like a kitten at her first dish of warm milk.
The doctor nods and says he will see to it at once, as soon as my appointment is completed. He is sorry for the misunderstanding. He resumes, quieter, less jovial now. I’m told the due date and instructed to take vitamins. When we leave, Dima turns to me.
“I half expected you to argue with me about the woman’s job.”
“Not at all.” I say. “You think I’d behave that way in front of the doctor?”
“Yes. I think you’d argue with me in front of a priest and all our ancestors,” he chuckles. I roll my eyes.
“I didn’t see any reason to disagree with you. I wouldn’t have insisted on her firing, but you made your decision there.”
“Thank you,” he says and it surprises me. “I find that I appreciate your support. I did not expect to find you supportive.”
“Only stubborn? Difficult? A dish of cabbage?” I challenge playfully. He hugs me to his side with his arm around me and kisses the top of my head.
“All that and more, darling.”
“No one has ever stood up for me like that. Or like anything. I think I might get used to it.”
“Why would I not fight your battles? You are my wife.” He says it like it’s nothing, like it’s to be expected that he would stick up for me, take my side, and not treat me like an idiot or an inconvenience. I lift my face for his kiss and he gives it to me.
The car takes me home while Dima goes to the office. I had intended to work some today, but I’m queasy again. The short nap I decide to take ends up lasting about four hours. I wake up groggy and nauseated. It takes forever for me to have a bath and wash my hair. I try to stay awake until Dima comes home, but after some tea and toast, I go right back to sleep.
When he comes to me, I reach for him at once and nestle into his arms with my cheek over his steady heartbeat. All afternoon and evening I battled the feeling of sickness with all my will. It turns out that the comfort of my husband’s presence helps a great deal.
“I’m glad you’re home. I felt so sick,” I mumble sleepily.
“Go right back to sleep then. I would not have disturbed you but I’ve been told sternly that it is my duty to come to you every night,” there is amusement in his voice that makes me smile. I like it here.
“Go on then,” I say, “I feel better in your arms, and I’ve missed you.”
“Go on with what?” he asks.
“I need you inside of me, mypakhan,” I whisper. I feel the shudder that takes him when I call him that and I grin, my hands sliding over the bare skin of his back as he moves on top of me.
For days I feel seasick at best, and at worst I’m vomiting till my throat feels raw. I drink a great deal of tea, including some ginger tea the housekeeper forces on me which tastes awful but seems to help soothe the violent sickness in my stomach. My entire body seems to rebel at once. My face breaks out, my feet swell and I’m as exhausted as if I’d done a half marathon. Still, like clockwork, as soon as Dima is with me in my bed, I feel more like myself. Enough to climb on top and ride him for the first time in days, because I’m restless from his tender lovemaking. I want the fierce demands of the lover who took me in the cave at Montenegro, and at last he surges into me with all the luscious fury I’ve come to need from him.
“No one else ever filled me like this,” I tell him as I sink down the length of him, breathing through the burn of his heavy cock stretching me to the limit.
He presses his hand low on my belly, thumb already pressing my clit as I rock against him. The ripples of pleasure take me fast. Breathless, I’m blind with white-hot ecstasy, begging him for more. He gives me more, gives me all of himself. I look in his eyes as he presses me down into the mattress, burrowing into me until he’s seated fully inside my tight core. The tremors of my last climax have barely faded but something about the way he looks at me, the clarity and possessiveness scalds me down to my bones. This man knows me inside and out, fights for me, and takes care of me. I pant, unable to get a full breath. His hair is longer now and I can grip it with my fist, hold on when I fear that I’m being burned away completely. That is how he takes me, eyes drilling into mine, my hands in his hair, our bodies fused.Ruthlessly he pounds into me. Every time he withdraws fully I can’t help myself and I whimper in protest. Then I feel the wet heat of the head of his cock brush my hole, sending sparks up my spine before he drives back inside. My head goes back and I know I scream for minutes on end, every stroke igniting some secret spot deep inside me. I roll my hips, eager for him, gripping him with all my might until he groans and rears back like a wild animal and makes me bow up off the bed as he pours out a hot gush of his seed inside me. I score his back with my nails, grappling for purchase on anything as the orgasm threatens to turn me inside out. I’m sure I black out for a moment as another climax seizes me in its merciless grip.
The only time I feel alive and like myself is when we’re together. For a full week I’m so sick, morning to night, that I can’t even log in to my work interface, let alone walk down the hall to my office. On the sixth day I’m finally steady enough to open my inbox and check on the bratva security-breach resolution.
Propped in bed, I nibble toast and force down more ginger tea. I’m so damn sick of the stuff. I crave a Diet Coke, but the caffeine isn’t great for the baby, so I sip my “wholesome” brew and vow to be the kind of mom who listens. My kids will never be told to shut up and disappear. Somewhere in the haze of nausea I decided I want a houseful of babies with Dima. When I told him, he flashed that boyish grin. “Absolutely,” he said. “Let’s fill a bigger house.” The memory warms me, and I decide the feeling is hormones, not mere sentimentality.
As I flip through the latest reports, I can’t find an update on the bratva situation. After checking and rechecking, I make a call.
“I’ve been sick so maybe I’m missing something. Where’s the summative report on the Petrov case?”
“There isn’t one. We dropped it.”
“What?” I exclaim. “Explain.” My demand is clipped, but I want to give him a chance to defend this terrible decision before I fire his ass, and anyone else responsible for such a spectacular error.
“Karina, it wasn’t me. I promise. You told me to repair the breach by any means necessary, that if it was illegal you’d pay the fine, whatever. I take orders seriously, you know that. Which is why, when a top ranking official from the Petrov organization called and told us to close the ticket and mark it resolved, I did it.”
