Page 17 of Kneeling for Daddy
I should regret it. Instead, every muscle in me aches to do it again.
For a moment, Alek studies me in silence, his gaze occasionally flicking toward his sister. He might give off the persona of a wannabe gangster, but he’s sharp. Calculated. The way he’s eyeing me, I can tell he’s wondering why his sister isn’t giving me hell.Or him. Or why I can’t disguise the smirk of a man with a dirty little secret.He finally breaks the silence. “You’ll let me know if there are… issues, Ani.”
“There won’t be,” I answer for her, my voice clipped and firm. “She’s my wife now. And that means she’s my responsibility.”
“That might be, but”—he holds my stare and releases a heavy exhale—“she’s my sister. And while I know this arrangement was my idea, her safety is not negotiable.”
I meet his glare head-on, my smile faint but sharp. “Trust me. Her safety is not your concern. No one touches what’s mine.”
“It isn’t other people I’m concerned about.”
“If you have something to say, fucking say it,” I bark, resenting his insinuation that I would ever lay my hands on her—or any woman—like that.
Without pulling her gaze from the view beyond the windows, Ani quietly mutters from across the room, “He didn’t hurt me.” They exchange a few curtly toned words in Armenian before she gives him a timid nod.
“Take care of her,” Alek demands, his voice low and firm.
Without hesitation, I match his tone. “I intend to.” We stare at each other in silence for a moment before he nods to his men, and they head for the door. The mood shifts the second it closes behind the three of them, but the tension doesn’t dissipate with their departure.
Ani doesn’t move from where she stands. She stays planted at the window, her spine stiff, so focused on the world beyond that glass it’s almost like she can’t bring herself to turn around. I watch her without a word, every nerve in me pulled tight between the memory of her wrapped around me and the reality of her guilt-laced silence.
I think about crossing the room, pressing up behind her, and dragging her back to that brief moment where we were both so wrapped up in each other that neither of us could breathe. But if I push too hard too soon, I’m going to snap the fragile thread keeping her from exploding at me.
After grabbing my jacket from the barstool, I slide my arms into it and clear my throat. “I’ve got some work to take care of this afternoon.” My announcement doesn’t garner even the slightest reaction from her. “You’ll use the time to put away your things,”I continue, ignoring the slight tightness in my chest, “and get yourself ready for dinner tonight. My family is expecting us.”
She turns slowly, her eyes narrowing with disdain. “Dinner?”
“Yes.” I keep my tone firm, ensuring she understands this isn’t a request. “Six, sharp. It’s informal.”
Her lips part into a slight scowl, on the verge of arguing. She bites it back and mutters something under her breath with a heavy sigh as she looks at the pile of bags. With a stiff tilt of her chin, she turns on her heel and heads to the bedroom. I watch her intently, her tiny frame swaying gracefully with every furious step.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I should be thinking about the meeting I have with a Colombian drug lord in a couple of hours. Instead, all I can think about is fucking my wife.
I wait in the bedroom until I hear the front door shutting behind Nikolai. The silence of the apartment is almost worse than his presence. Walking through the living room, my eyes drift to the mountain of luggage cluttering the foyer, and his order echoes in my ears.Use the time to put away your things.It’s a ridiculous command. I have never had to put my own belongings away. At home, staff managed every suitcase, the placement of every hanger, and the folding of every blouse. But there is no staff here. Just me and his command… A command I actually intend to follow.Just not as he expects.
Grabbing a suitcase, I immediately wish I had one of my brother’s muscle-bound idiots to carry it for me. It has to weigh almost as much as I do. With determination burning in my veins, I grit my teeth and drag it out of the room. “You said unpack,” I grumble, pulling the suitcase past the master bedroom. In the guest room on the other side of the hall, I let the suitcase fall to the floor with a heavy thud. “But you didn’t say where.”
I unzip it and flip the lid open with more force than necessary, relishing in how good this tiny act of defiance feels. Every item hung or tucked away in the large walk-in closet is a minuscule cry of victory.
By the time I finish, my arms ache and sweat beads at my temples, but satisfaction hums through me at the sight of my things neatly arranged inmybedroom. I can hardly pull the smile from my face as I shower and get ready for dinner, like the compliant little wife Nikolai is expecting.
Is having a drink waiting for him too much? Yeah… going full Stepford wife is probably too obvious.
The lock clicks on the front door, and I slide from my stool at the kitchen island, smoothing my hot pink Valentino mini dress over my thighs as I find my footing in my matching stilettos. Nikolai strides in, his tie askew yet somehow still looking immaculate.And tempting.He stops in his tracks when he sees me. His eyes skim the length of my body, either surprised I listened or enjoying the view before him.
“Ready,” I chirp with a huge smile before he has a chance to say anything.
His lips curve up faintly with his approval. “You look good when you listen.”
“Bite me.” Lifting my clutch from the counter, I cross my arms over my chest.
He chuckles, the dark rumble rising from deep in his chest. “Is that a request or an offer, my little pet?”
Traitorous heat flushes my cheeks, and I shove past him before he can notice, my heels clicking furiously against the hardwoodfloor. He follows immediately behind me into the hallway. “Up,” he corrects when I reach for the down button of the elevator.
“Up?” I echo in confusion, pushing the button. When the cab arrives, he swipes a card granting access to the top floor.The elevator doors open, and Nikolai lets us into the apartment like he owns the place. Maybe he does.
