Page 42 of His Disobedient Bride

“I know,” I say. “Go and get your father and come with me. I’ll have to go down to the basement and fix this myself.”

32

ANDREI

“Take us down to the basement,” Cerise tells me.

I look curiously at my wife standing in front of me, her little T-shirt stretched across her chest, riding up to let me see a few tantalizing inches of her belly. I’ve already fucked her twice today. Once when I woke up next to her, her warm thigh nestled under me, and once when I took a break for lunch. And I want to fuck her again right now, pull down that long dark hair and wrap it around my fist while I take her against the desk, my other hand on the soft curves of her belly, my dick in her asshole, forcing it in so she has no choice but to submit to my pleasure.

But she’s with Frederik and Dmitri.

“Why?” I ask.

“I want to see where you’re keeping him,” she says.

She doesn’t have to name him. I know she’s referring to the former boss of the Ivanovich Bratva.

“Why?” I ask again.

“I have the right to punish him too,” she says flatly, folding her arms over her chest.

I’d rather have my hands on her, my tongue between those breasts, but in my world she does have the right to punish him too. As the highest-ranking wife the women who were killed were murdered under her protection. So I nod shortly and stand up.

“Follow me,” I say.

Cerise follows me. I stop at the door to the basement, turning back to look at Frederik and Dmitri. “It is not necessary that they come too,” I say.

Cerise’s face is stony. “I want them to see him too,” she says.

I flick my eyes at my uncle and my cousin. Frederik is different since his marriage. Stronger, sharper. I don’t say anything to Dmitri. And the way he smirks at me means he knows I’m too obligated to him to deny him coming to the basement with us.

I open the door to the basement and we descend the staircase. It’s cool, well-lit, sterile as we walk along the white hallway. Then we get to the end of the hallway and I open the door to the former boss of the Ivanovich Bratva.

He’s suspended from the ceiling.

I have no compunction about what I’ve done to him. I’m going to wring every drop of pain from him. His order would have killed Cerise.

My wife walks up to where he’s hanging, limp and a bloody wreck. He’s barely even classifiable as human at this point. As I watch, he turns up one fleshy eye to her, the eyeball hanging in the socket.

She doesn’t say anything. She just turns to Dmitri, then, in one swift, smooth motion, she grabs the gun from his belt.

Goddamn Dmitri has always been soft as shit when it comes to her. He doesn’t even protest.

I start forward but before I can reach her Cerise turns to the man, and shoots him directly in the head, the sound echoing percussively in the small confined space.

Then she flips the gun around and hands it back to Dmitri.

“My punishment has concluded,” she says, and she just folds her arms and looks at me.

I feel an immediate clench and twist of my insides, and I can feel my cock hardening in my pants.

The way she’s absolutely ruthless, she way she takes what she wants without hesitation or fear.

God.

Her power sings to my blood like nothing else in the world does.

She’s looking at me, absolutely no fear in her eyes, and I try to force my voice to be calm. I don’t want her to see how what she did affected me.

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