Page 5 of His Queen

I haven't had a moment's trouble since my teenage years. Yet here I am, rejecting her like some chaste virgin. All over some redhead, I don't even know. If I was smart, I would have at least gotten her phone number so I could see her again and actually enjoy my time in Russia.

Well, there's no point in dwelling on such things. She was a one-nighter, a one-night stand, a little bump, and grind. Except she isn't. My stupid mind keeps betraying me every time it reminds me of the fact of our connection. A very unwanted reminder that is making me a sour bastard. I look outside the window of the plane and let my mind go while I try to it shut off.

Chapter 4

Rose

BythetimeIreach my father's compound, I'm already over it all. I run up to my room because the last thing I need is to smell like another man. But I still can't get him out of my mind. I wish I could have left my number or, even better, just stayed and been there when he woke up. Why in the hell does this hurt so badly? This was just a one-night stand and not the first one I have ever had.

Why can't I get him out of my head? This was a one of. Nothing more. But the way he made me feel. The way he touched me set me on fire. Everywhere I turn, I remember the way he was looking at me. At least I have the memory of him.

Can I live in a world where I never feel like that again? Because no one else has ever had eyes that burned like fire into mine and caused me to flush in anticipation of what might happen. The way his gaze held mine. I have never met another human being who could match the way he looked at me. As if I was the only woman he had ever seen and he couldn’t get enough.

But that's not the life they have dealt me. I’ve been dealt a life filled with choices that are not my own. A life where I am being forced to marry a man I despise. The reality sets in. The love and magic that I got to feel in just a few hours with a random man won’t ever happen again.

Why couldn't I have just stayed and woken to see his smile while I reminisced about the passion from the night before? I guess at least I have the memories to keep me going throughout the next part of my life that I have no control over. To be a broodmare for a despicable man.

Now here I sit like a good little soldier in the seat across from my father and his new whore wife. I waited for my father to get off the phone so he could lecture me. I'm tired of hearing her mouth already. Wedding this wedding that I've been here for all of ten minutes. Honestly, why can't she just sit in his lap and suck his tiny cock like the bitch she is instead of trying to pull shit on me?

I don't want to marry Sal, but, because he is good-looking and rich, I should count my blessings. I would rather be poor as fuck and marry a man of my choosing. Fuck, I didn't want a husband at all. I want to focus on business and that's the issue with the family and especially that man.

I don't want to birth to his babies and suckle them at all. I don't love him. I don't want to be his fucking wife and I damn sure don't want his damn kids. Not that I don't eventually want kids.... just not his. I don't even want him to touch me. He scares the shit out of me. For him, I hold no genuine attraction. None.

No one could compare to the Russian man, anyway. My father finally got off the phone with whom I assumed was Sal.

"So nice of you to show up."

"I was tired when I got in and didn't want to deal with this yet."

Lena scoffs. She acts as if she has something to say about everything. So, of course, she decides to voice her opinion.

"Why am I not surprised?"

I look up at Lena, my face in a bored frown. "Not only are you not surprised, but you voice your opinion when it isn't wanted or needed. Is there any reason you needed me here, or is this another reminder of the life I have to lead? I already know Sal. I've already told you how I feel about this. What else do you want from me?"

"I'm pretty damn tired of you talking about me controlling your life. You know what I expect of you. We aren't holding you against your will. You will grow to like him and eventually, maybe even have some respect. He is going to be here shortly." My dad says.

There are exactly nine words and those last four sentences make the entire ordeal all come down to one thing and one thing only.

FUCK! THAT!

Life would have been so much fucking easier if my mom wasn't dead. Maybe if she was here, things wouldn't be as heavy on me. A motherly comfort or a more reliable companion would be something I would cherish. I can't imagine she would have let him marry me off to someone like Sal.

"You care so much about me that you are selling me to a monster."

"Listen here. You were to be here on the first flight and you chose to not come when requested. I have a million-dollar contract that says you will behave the way you should. You will sit in my house and be glad I am providing a roof over your head. Don't think you have earned anything that allows you to do whatever you please and come home when you see fit. When I call you, you come where and when I want you. If I say get here in fifteen minutes, I don’t care where you are you better make it here in fifteen fucking minutes."

My face goes hot as it reddens in fury. Fuck. This.

"I don't want to marry him. If mom were here, you know she would be against this. You know she wouldn't want him anywhere around me."

I can't help it when a sniffle makes itself heard. Fuck, he can't make me do this. He can't. Fuck him. Fuck him so hard. Fuck my life. The sound of Sal's tires on the gravel driveway comes to my ears. Well, the Mercedes sound is more like a high-pitched tire screech. Like a fuck boy driving in a rice rocket. A bright orange one at that. A fucking traffic cone on wheels. The kind you wish you could scrape the shit out of on curbs. He has always been like this, though.

And then there he is, Mr. Stuck up with a big head. Sal thinks the world and everyone should stop and notice him. That everything should revolve around him. His snide glare makes its way to me and he just has to look so confident. It's worse than the migraines my mother used to get. I hate him and I hate my father for forcing this on me. Because where do you run when the Don of the Italian Mafia says you're doing this like it or not?

Now I can barely breathe because not only does my heart race and break a thousand times in my chest, but it’s filled with dread. Fear sinks into my bones and leaves me feeling cold and empty. Not even the thoughts of Vlad can help me now.

Right now, all I can think about is when my father called and told me to come home for the wedding. The sickening butterfly feeling inside my stomach isn't the fun time type. The fluttering in the pit of my stomach that Vlad brought on was a happy little dance of lust. This feeling is like my guts being ripped from my body as dread settles in.

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