Page 1 of His Disobedient Bride

1

ANDREI

I should stop and wash my hands more thoroughly. Maybe take a shower. But I can’t wait. I hastily run my hands under the sink to get the worst of the blood off, my fingers fast and vicious on the dried streaks and smears as Vladimir cleans up the bodies behind me.

There’s blood all over my snowy white cuffs. I don’t give a shit. I can’t wait any longer.

My father and I head back to the limo, Vladimir and Mikhail, my two right-hand men, beside me.

I knock on the window for Fyodor and rap out that I want him to drive home quickly.

I feel on edge, jittery, like an addict without a fix.

I am an addict without a fix.

I’ve had to be without Cerise for a week.

My skin buzzes and hums with need, the hunger twisting in my belly.

My father sits down next to me, wants to talk about what happened, what information that I, with my skills, was able to wring out of the rival Bratva lieutenants.

I can’t concentrate. All I can do is count with an unerring precision exactly how many miles are left until I can sink my cock into Cerise’s warm, wet pussy.

I can’t even fucking think straight without being able to fuck her. My brain is fuzzy, unfocused. She’s my dark obsession, my drug, the fire in my veins.

I call for home, tell them to have Cerise there waiting for me at the front door.

It’s all I can do not to roar at the driver to go faster as we head back to the family vacation house in Sochi where we are staying beside the Black Sea for the summer. It’s a trip for pleasure and business, because my father and I are interested in expanding the reach of our Bratva and we want to know how strong the Bratva families are here. Can we divide and conquer? Offer partnerships?

Or should we just eliminate each Bratva one by one?

When the driver finally parks the limo in the driveway to our beach house, I’m out the door before the car has barely stopped. My body is pulsing with need, searing with a fierce, burning heat because I can feel Cerise nearby. I take the stairs quickly and wrench open the front door.

Of course, she’s not fucking there like she’s supposed to be when I get inside.

“Where the fuck is my wife?” I bark at Viktor, who is in charge of security while I’m gone.

I reach out and grab him by the throat, my big hand wrapping around his neck.

“She was told to be here!” he gasps.

He’s a big man, but I’m bigger.

And deadlier.

It’s hard to keep my fingers from closing and tightening around his throat in my rage, but then I hear her behind me.

“Hello, husband,” she says, her voice low and throaty, and sexy as fuck, as it always is.

I drop Viktor, and whirl around.

She’s standing in front of me in a yellow sundress, her long dark hair loose and flowing on her shoulders. My hands are already itching to wrap that long hair up in my fist and pull. There’s a touch of pink on her shoulders and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. She’s been enjoying the Sochi beaches.

There’s a smile on her face, and her dark lashes brush against her skin as she tilts her head to look at me.

My body clenches and fills with need, and I growl out, “Turn around and walk to the bedroom.”

She obeys.

---