Page 40 of Debt to the Mafia King
“If I find out you have contacted him again, I will kill him. Is that understood?”
The paleness of her skin told me it was.
“And I’ll think I’ll keep these for now.” I stuffed the sleeve of contraceptive pills into my pocket.
“Viktor, I’ll need those.”
“No, you won’t. Just like you don’t need your old friends or the freedoms you think you deserve. Maybe when you have learned your place, you can earn them back, but until then, you will stay in this room and think about what you did.”
She scrambled across the bed on her hands and knees. “You can’t be serious, Viktor. All I did was go and see a friend. You can’t lock me up for talking to someone.
I’m your wife and not an animal.”
From the doorway, I smiled at her. “Yes, you are my wife, Leah, and maybe some time alone with your thoughts will make you remember that.” I reached for the door just as something heavy shattered against the wall by my head.
Slowly, I looked at the remnants of the shattered lamp, and then lifted my eyes to hers.
She looked like a wild woman, all fire and fight. But like all fires that burned with intensity, her rage would be short-lived. Leah would become what I needed her to become sooner or later.
The fire just needed to be suffocated a little so it would burn itself out.
“Clean that up,” I ordered and pointed to the destroyed antique.
“Go fuck yourself, Viktor Petrov, you can’t keep me here.”
And that’s where she was wrong because I could and would keep her locked in her room until she learned to behave.
Slamming the door, I turned the lock and pocketed the key.
“I hate you,” were the last words I heard before I walked away.
Chapter Fourteen
Leah
I hated him. I hated him for the way he came bulldozing into my life and taking it over, and I hated him for acting the way he did, but more than that, I hated the way I reacted to him.
Every time I told myself that this was just a business arrangement and that I could handle it. He went and did something that proved that I couldn’t. Would it be so hard for him to treat me like an actual person with hopes and feelings? I knew there was nothing romantic between us, but did that stop him from treating me with an ounce of kindness?
It was like he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, and maybe he was scared, but of what I didn’t know because there weren’t any feelings between us. We hadn’t known each other long enough for any to grow, and I already knew they wouldn’t.
Because I knew what this was.
So why did I crave even an ounce of niceness from him? Just a tiny amount of something other than this. Groaning, I flopped down on the bed face-first, burying my face into the thick quilted bedspread.
Why did he have to be so god damn coldall the time? It was like he wasn’t a human who had feelings. I didn’t want love, but a little affection? A little kindness? That would be nice right now.
The only time he had ever been nice to me was when he was buried deep inside my body, and as soon as it was over, he left. It made me feel like a cheap whore. Was I a cheap whore?
I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. Was that exactly what I was? After all, I had agreed to his terms, and he was going to pay me handsomely. So, what did that make me?
A fool. That was what.
I was a fool, a fool who was expecting too much from him. He wasn’t acting cold. He was acting like this was a business arrangement, and I had to start doing the same.
Except—
What had happened at the gas station hadn’t been about business. He had been in a rage, and all because I had dared to go and speak to another man? Was that normal?
