Page 36 of Prince of Control
I push him away, shaking my head.
Belonged to him?
What the actual fuck?
He realizes his faux pas. “I don’t mean it that way. I just meant that it felt like it was meant to be.”
“Of course it was meant to be for you. Your father hands you a bride, and you’re happy to jump to his bidding. The pakhan in training. I had a life and dreams, and none of them involved marrying a man like my father or yours. I don’t want this life. I don’t want to be married to the bratva. We are not meant to be. Don’t write pretty stories in your head about us being meant to be just because I like being fucked by you.” I gesture him out of the way and step under the water to rinse out the conditioner.
When he leaves the shower without another word, I register the loss of him in every cell of my body.
Regret leeches in, but it’s too late.
The magic is gone.
Mood broken.
And I refuse to be sorry for offending the man who calls himself my husband.
Chapter Nine
Baron
“What did you find out about that little fuck moving in on my wife?” I demand, falling into step with Anya as she heads out the door for class the next day.
Lara already left, giving me the polite but mostly silent treatment for the rest of last night and this morning.
Anya sends me a startled look.
Blyad’. I let my emotions show through. I’m usually measured and controlled. It’s the reason my friends trust me to lead.
This frustration is a result of going to bed with blue balls and having to share the bed with a beautiful woman who hates me.
Lara’s hurting, I know that. She’s using anger and righteousness to glue herself back together. I’d rather she let me mend the shattered pieces, but that’s not going to happen anytime soon.
“His name is Denis Penkin. I’m still digging, but I haven’t found a connection between him and the Rostovs. He’s not part of the oligarchy, but his family does seem well-off.”
I grunt, dissatisfied.
“I also didn’t find his application to Thornecroft in the pool submitted last spring.” Anya raises her brows.
It takes me a second to process. “Meaning someone pulled strings to get him in here.”
“Right.”
“Last-minute strings.”
“Probably.”
Just like the ones my dad pulled to get Lara transferred and into the necessary classes on short notice.
“So he’s definitely a spy."
Anya shrugs. “I don’t know if I’d say definitely, but I thought it seemed suspicious.”
“Good work,” I tell her. “That was smart thinking.”
Anya flashes me a quick smile as she pretends to buff her nails on her shirt. “I know, I’m a genius.”
