Page 69 of Captured Solace

“My God,” he breathed.

I whimpered and he thrust with a heavy groan. When I turned to look back, he kept his hand on me, forcing my head down. I bit my lip, confused as to what he wanted. He wasn’t taking me roughly. No, his cock worked inside me with gentle strokes, caressing my innermost points as softly as he knew how to circle the tip of his tongue around my clit. But his hand on the back of my neck, his fingers spread, kept me down like he wanted it rough.

He expanded inside me, stretching my inner walls until I whimpered against the bed. For a moment, I expected him to pull out, but he didn’t. His cock jerked inside me as he spilled himself and a quiet groan escaped him.

I kept still as he pulled from me and I heard his footfalls move from the bedroom and the door shut.

I propped myself up on my elbows, feeling his cum sting between my thighs. Staining the sheets. The light through the window caught the ring on my finger and I turned it this way and that. Watching it glitter and thinking about the way he’d touched me in the hotel and the way he touched me now.

I couldn’t give that up.

In the bathroom, I washed and dressed in a lace bra and panties and pulled my satin dressing gown over it. My fingers trembled as I washed my face, dabbing pink onto my lips and my cheekbones. Then I combed out my hair, taking longer than I needed to, and studied my reflection.

I was beautiful to him, but I had a feeling he wasn’t the kind of man who was swayed by beauty in the face of what he surely felt was the most painful betrayal.

The house was still as I padded down the hall in my bare feet. I entered the kitchen where the door to the back porch was wide open. Viktor stood on the deck in gray sweatpants, shirtless and wreathed in cigarette smoke. When he heard me coming, he turned and took the cigarette from his lips.

“I’d like it if you’d make breakfast this morning,” he said quietly.

I nodded, glad for something to distract myself with, although it was strange that he asked me to cook for him. Usually he offered. Stomach twisting with renewed nerves, I watched him through the window as I fried eggs and made buttered toast. He just stood there, looking out over the marsh, his naked back to me.

When the food was ready, we ate on either side of the counter in silence. I watched him finish his last piece of toast and wipe his fingers. Then he took a sip of black coffee and laid it aside and for the first time, he looked me in the eye. And I looked back at him, my insides fluttering and my heart pattering against my ribs.

He rested the fingertips of his right hand on the countertop. “We need to talk,” he said, his deep voice monotone.

I just looked at him, my body tensed.

He winced, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “I know it was you, Sienna.”

My throat went dry. “I—I shouldn’t have said anything.”

His brows rose, but he said nothing, his gaze never wavering from mine.

“This is all a miscommunication. I was angry because you were going behind everyone’s back and I was drunk, so I sent a picture of your car screen to Lucien,” I said, a sudden wave of anger moving through me. “I’m not the only one at fault here, you betrayed Lucien and broke your alliance.”

“This isn’t a fucking miscommunication, Sienna, you betrayed me. I’m your husband. Whose side are you on?” His voice was hard now, his stance tense.

“I’m on the side of not being in a war, of keeping this alliance because it brings us peace,” I snapped. “Why do you want those fucking ports anyway?”

He held up a hand. “Don’t raise your voice at me.”

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want,” I shouted, finally losing control. Every ounce of anger in my body burst out like a dam had broken. I jumped up, my dressing gown tangling in the chair and slipping from my body as I stormed into the living room. He followed me, his footfalls pounding like a drum.

“You disrespect me like that again and—”

I stepped close, looking up into his face. “And what? You’ll hit me? Because I know you have it in you now, I know you’re the same as all the fucking psycho men—you care about money, you care about running your fucking drugs. You fucking use people like it’s nothing.”

My voice had risen to a shout and my arm was up, ready to defend myself. He stepped back, running a hand over his jaw, pacing across the room. When he turned, his face was tight with anger and his chest rose and fell quickly.

“It’s what men like me do. We expand, we make money,” he said. “You don’t understand, you never will.”

“Why?” I said, throwing my hands up. “Why don’t I understand?”

“Because you’re a woman,” he hissed. “You never had to get your hands dirty, you never had a legacy to carry. You mafia princesses have it easy.”

“Easy? You think I have it easy?”

“What’s so hard about it? Hmm?” He drew near, looking down at me. “I gave you everything you could want. Everything. And you stabbed me in the fucking back.”

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