SWNOVELS Tempted by Deception: Chapter 20
It takes all of my self-restraint not to watch as Yan drags a half-dazed Lia out of the venue.
If I do, if I look at her, I’ll be tempted to go after her, and that’s the most foolish thing I could do under the circumstances.
By the time Boris informed me she was here, thanks to that fucker Matt, who’s a close associate of the brotherhood, I barely had time to tell Yan to get her out.
That plan was obviously a clusterfuck since she came to me as if she had every right to be by my side.
She doesn’t.
Even though I don’t stare at her, Igor and his daughter, my fiancée, Kristina, do, both measuring her up until she disappears with Yan.
Igor’s attention finally comes back to me, his face hard. “Do I need an explanation, Volkov?”
“No,” I speak with an ease I don’t feel.
“Good. Because I won’t allow you to disrespect my daughter.”
I nod in a show of respect, but he doesn’t nod back as he turns around and leaves.
Kristina continues to stare at me, then at the door through which Lia left, her face remaining as emotionless as her father’s. As a mafia princess, she was born ready to be married within the brotherhood. Pretty and flawless, Kristina’s role in life is to bring honor to her father and become the obedient wife.
When Sergei suggested this alliance a year ago, I didn’t see why not, especially since Igor and his brigade are surrounded by a high wall no one can penetrate. I thought this would bring me closer to his methodical reign.
If I had to marry one day, Kristina seemed like the safest and most logical choice.
I can see the doubts on her face, but she doesn’t voice them. She wasn’t raised to. For Kristina, being the obedient wife is everything that matters.
Unlike my Lenochka, whose feelings are usually written all over her face, Kristina’s are locked under a makeshift façade.
“If you’re keeping her as a mistress, let me know.” She fakes a smile. “Have a lovely night.”
And with that, she turns and leaves as if nothing happened.
It takes everything I have to continue with the dull event. While I loathe the empty socializing these parties are all about, I need the networking and information they provide.
However, it’s hard—almost impossible—to concentrate when I recall the shock and hurt in those blue eyes. Conjuring those emotions in her was everything that I initially strived for, but now it feels like a rusty knife in my gut.
After some thirty minutes of mindless talking to influential men whose only worth is their networks, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I excuse myself and check it.
Yan: She’s in the apartment.
I should take it out on him for not escorting her out soon enough, but it’s pointless. I couldn’t have kept her in the dark for too long.
Adrian: Stand guard.
Yan: Got it.
The night feels like a thousand years. Lia’s ballet producer comes to talk to me, introducing the French director. He says his prima ballerina is here somewhere, but he can’t find her.
And he never will.
After the night is finally over, I ignore the small gathering Sergei is having with the other leaders and leave. Kolya drives at high speed until I reach Lia’s apartment.
Yan blows smoke from his cigarette and nods from his position in front of the door. I motion at him to join Kolya downstairs, but he hesitates.
“What?” I don’t bother hiding my impatience.
“You said you’d talk about a new plan for Lazlo.”
“This isn’t the time to discuss that, Yan.”
“I’m just saying, we need to do something about this situation.” He tips his head toward the apartment door. “She didn’t seem to be doing so well.”
He leaves before I can say anything.
I put in the code and go inside.
The light flicks on as the door closes behind me.
“Is she really your fiancée?” Lia’s apathetic tone greets me. She’s standing at the entrance to the living room, crossing her arms over her chest and still wearing the blue dress that gives her a softer edge. Her face is flushed, but her eyes are ablaze with a mixture of volatile emotions.
I start removing my coat.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she bites out.
“Why not?”
“Whether you’re leaving or staying is up to the answer to my question.”
I throw the coat on the entrance table, not bothering to hang it, and charge toward her. She startles when I grab her by the chin, my hold harsh and firm, prohibiting her from moving.
“You seem to have some misconceptions, so understand this, Lia. Whether I leave or stay is only up to me. You don’t get a say in it, never have and never will.”
Her eyes are wide, lips pale, and chin trembling. She’s obviously scared, but she meets my gaze as she repeats, “Is she your fiancée?”
“Whether she is or isn’t doesn’t concern you.”
“Of course it concerns me! I will not be the other woman!” she strains, trying to squirm free from my hold.
I wrap a hand around her waist and slam her front against me, knocking the breath out of her lungs. “You are whatever the fuck I say you are.”
She shakes her head. “No…no, Adrian. Don’t…”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t put me there.”
“Put you where?”
“In this damn position.” She hits my chest with closed fists. “I’m not your whore.”
“I own your cunt, Lia. I own you. Titles don’t matter.”
“It matters to me!”
“Why? You think if you’re my whore, you’ll want me any less? You’ll open your legs for me any less? You’re a slut for me, Lia.”
She raises her hand and slaps me across the face. Hard. The sound reverberates through the silent apartment as the sting etches across my skin.
My vision reddens, but it’s not with the need to hurt her for hitting me. It’s for the reminder of what being hit means. My fucking mother.
I close my eyes for a brief second, tightening my jaw. When I open them again, Lia’s eyes have widened further and tears cling to her lids as if she’s realizing exactly how fucked she is.
Literally and figuratively.
She opens her mouth to say something, but my lips crash to hers. She thins them in a line, her small hands pushing against my chest. It’s her rebellion against me, one that doesn’t last when I bite down on her bottom lip. She tries to fight me, to hold on to her anger, but I tilt her head back to plunge my tongue inside and feast on her. She whimpers as her fists go limp against my chest and a tear slides down her cheek, clinging to my lips until I taste salt.
But that’s not the only thing I taste. There’s also her desperation, betrayal, and lust. I take all of those as I kiss her, sucking her soul from her lungs.
Using my hold on her chin, I push her small body backward. Her lips part with a gasp as her ass flattens against the wall. I pull her dress up and bunch her panties in a fist, tugging until they rip into shreds.
It takes me a second I don’t have to unbuckle my pants as I lift her leg and loop it around my waist. Then I’m ramming inside her with an urgency I haven’t felt before. My back snaps in a line as I thrust into her tight heat with a rhythm that leaves her gasping for air against my lips.
Her leg squeezes me as more tears slide down her cheeks, soaking us both. I’ll take her emotions and everything she has to offer.
My fingers dig into her thigh as I power into her, feeding off her moans mixed with sniffles. Off the way she holds on to me, even when she hates me.
I hit her sensitive spot over and over until she’s sobbing out her orgasm. She tightens around my dick like a vise and I empty inside her with a deep growl, my harsh breathing echoing in the air.
It takes me a second to come back to the world of the living. Lia turns her face away from me while still crying, her body shuddering as she whispers, “I’ll never forgive you for putting me in this position.”
“You are mine. Get used to it.” I pull out of her and watch my cum streaking down her thighs to her ankles.
That view will always be my fucking favorite.
I grab her by the elbow to test her balance, but she pulls away from me, using the wall as an anchor.
Gritting my teeth, I tuck myself in, then I turn around and step out of the apartment before I lose the cool that I’m barely holding on to.
Before I confiscate her from the world and keep her for myself.
Maybe that’s what I should do, anyway.
Because tonight, I made irrevocable decisions.
Lia isn’t the other woman. She’s the woman.
And I’m not my fucking father.