Page 39 of Bratva Queen

“Oh, darling…” Stepan physically turned his body to me this time, frowning. “I told you this before, when you become a bratva wife, you’re taking on a job of its own. You won’t be going to college.”

“What?” I snapped. “But I told you it was one of my life goals! I—”

“Calm down, Isabel. You need to be cool and collected for this lunch meeting.”

“Fuck that! If I’m going to be a woman of stature in this city, I need some kind of degree behind my name! Something to help me start up a business and have the credentials to back it up!”

“You’ll have enough opportunities with Koslov as your last name, I assure you.” Stepan now looked out of the window. “We can discuss whatever your little business ideas might be in the future, but right now, your focus should be on the wedding and on taking your place in the household. You need to assert your dominance over the housekeeper, the chefs, the maids, even the guards.” He took my hand and squeezed it. “You’re going to be the Koslov queen, my darling. Start acting like it.”

I pulled in a deep breath and squeezed my jaw shut. I wouldn’t argue with Stepan over it anymore; not right now. That was one of the rules I’d set for myself—drop the subject if it becomes heated. But I would definitely bring this up again. I wasn’t going to let Stepan control my entire life. If I had this “power” he kept referring to, I was going to use it to my advantage.

I looked toward Alek, who seemed to be looking down at the floor, frowning. His jaw popped in that way it did when he was angry or just thinking really hard. I looked away. While we obviously had a deep connection, a true love between us, I couldn’t indulge in it. I couldn’t let myself see his emotions and be affected by them.

* * *

Later that evening,I was reading alone in our bedroom suite. It was quite beautiful, embellished with plush furniture and small crystal pendant lights, cordoned into sections of the dressing room and full en-suite bathroom; the wide bedroom with big windows showing a view of the gardens; and the lounge area a step down from the bed, where I now sat curled up on the large sofa.

The door burst open, and Stepan smiled widely. “My love! There you are. Look at you sitting there all beautiful… If only you were naked, right? You’d look like one of those old French paintings with the chubby women all draped over the—”

“Stepan!” I accosted him, closing my book. “Firstly, I am not chubby. I am curvy. And secondly, what’s going on with you? Are you drunk?”

He nodded slowly, dropping down next to me and giving me a shrug. “It’s what whiskey does, right? But it only makes this more fun—” he slid his hands around me and pulled me closer to kiss me. I pushed back slightly, not wanting to upset him, but I wasn’t in the mood, not at all. He was still attractive to me; it wasn’t exactly off-putting to have his charming smile and baby-blue eyes aimed at me. But the slur in his words and the smell wafting from him was definitely off-putting.

“Stepan, I don’t feel like doing this now. Maybe tomorrow morning, alright? When you’ve slept the whiskey off and maybe gotten rid of that smokey stink…” I turned away, looking for fresh air.

He stilled and dropped his hands. “Come on, you’re my fiancé… Can’t a man get a little loving from his one and only woman?”

“When a man smells clean, yeah,” I said impassively.

“Isabel,malyshka,” he pleaded, pulling on my arms. “You look so good tonight… please… I’ll make you feel like it, we’ll start like we did that first time, yes?” He bounced his eyebrows enticingly.

But I was not enticed. I hated the stench of whiskey and the reek of cigarettes on his fingers. It reminded me of my father and those nights I wanted to leave in my past.

I stood up, hoping to walk to the bathroom and ready myself for bed. “No, Stepan, not tonight.”

His grip on my arms tightened, and I was caught standing with him holding me in place. “Isabel, be reasonable.”

“Reasonable?” I asked him. “About what?”

“About a man’s needs!” He stood up and threw his hands out. “They don’t just go away because youdon’t feel like it,” he sneered the words as though they had no validity at all.

“What aboutmyneeds?” I asked.

“What?” He didn’t understand the question.

“My need to get some sleep! Or my need to feel like you’ll listen to me when I say no! How about my need to feel safe around you?”

That awoke something inside him. He narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to me. “Is this about thatonetime I pushed you and you tripped on your own goddamn stripper heels?” He gripped my upper arm and pulled me to him, pushing his face down to be nose to nose with me. “Because trust me, darling, as the bratva king, you are no safer with anyone else than you are with me!”

I fumed, breathing deeply even though his breath repulsed me. “Then let me go, bratva king, because youarehurting me.”

He started laughing, looking at the ceiling. “This?” He pulled on my arm, hurting me even more, and locked his gaze on mine. “This is fuck-all compared to what my enemies would do to you if they got their hands on you.”

“Stepan,” I tried to speak calmly. “I’m with you right now. I’m in a house full of guards. I’m safe, remember? So can we just let this go, please?”

“No!” He was officially pissed. He’d crossed over from the fun kind of drunk to the blackout, aggressive phase. “You need to understand that this—” he jerked my arm, and I stumbled to the side, “this is nothing!” He let go and shoved me against the shoulders. I stumbled back but held my balance, glaring at him. “This is just some playful fun between lovers. A passionate tumble.”

He shoved me again, and this time I fell. “Stepan!” I called out in anger and reached out to stop my fall. I knocked over a vase of flowers from the side table next to the couch, staggering and finally falling back with my hand landing on the broken glass.

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