“What will it be like?”
He shrugs. “It’s a party.”
Full of bratva and other various criminal royalty. It’s ten times worse than the typical meet your parents which I’ve not officially done. His father, Lev, patted my shoulder, his amusement bright on the day of our wedding. Yelena, his second wife, never bothered to introduce herself.
I’m inclined to believe they don’t particularly care who I am. This is another chapter in a game, showing everyone that Marissa didn’t get to them. As far as they’re concerned, Maxim is happily married to what’s-her-name.
I took an hour doing my hair, not that it amounted to much. My brown hair is sleek but flat and as soon as I step out into the wind it’ll be a mess. Slowly and methodically, I applied my makeup, but I’m so-so on that front too.
Meanwhile, Maxim is runway-worthy in a pair of black slacks and a steel gray button-down. The longer strands of his hair are curled in that way that always enchants me. I’m still in my pajamas because I have no idea what to wear.
“Come on,” I whine. “Please give me something.”
But that would require him to talk to me.
He never does. The most talkative he gets is when he whispers dirty little things during sex. Otherwise, it’s just silence. When I ask him about his day and what he wants Olga to prepare for dinner I get the bare minimum. Good, fine, grilled chicken and veggies. He doesn’t bother to ask me anything.
Sometimes I push it saying the random thoughts that pop into my head. What was it like growing up as a mafia prince? Do you get along with your brothers? Why are the walls inthis place so fancy (turns out it’s wainscotting). His dark eyes slide to mine but my chatter never amuses him. It never opens the floor to discussion.
I am merely here.
Exactly where Marissa wants me to be.
Two days ago, I went through Daisy’s social media. She hasn’t posted much, but I went back through every memory, remembering where I was when it happened. Normally, right beside her. All our lives, that’s how it’s been. Whatever adventures we went on, we went together.
There’s a painful gap, growing bigger, now that she’s not here to talk to. I’m used to the constant flow of messages and various memes sent to one another. Venting about work and getting annoyed by people doing weird things on the bus.
I know if Maxim talked to me, it wouldn’t replace all the girlish gossip. But I can’t help but wonder if it would help.
Did he really want to get married that badly? What did he think it was going to be like? I doubt Marissa’s daughter, as meek as she’s known to be, would get ordered around like this.
But I’m not Marissa’s daughter.
Which is why when Maxim snaps his finger pretending to remember something my stomach knots.
Here’s the ugly truth. Maxim knows what he’s doing in the bedroom. Or maybe I’m just fucked up because I like the harder stuff. But still, there’s a line of dread every time that gleam comes into his eye. My panties shouldn’t instantly grow wet.
“You know what I do have something to give you. On your knees by the bed.”
My lips pop open. “We’re going to be late.”
He orders again, voice darker, “On your knees by the bed.”
I drop the makeup brush letting out a deep breath.
“Pants off,” he demands as he follows me through. “Ass in theair.”
Like always, I do exactly as he says. My chest presses into the side of the mattress, my fingers digging into the sheets. Something cold hits my ass and I jerk into the bed.
“Wait, wait, wait!”
He doesn’t. He spreads my ass cheeks and my fists twist into the sheets further.
“Relax.” The word is surprisingly gentle. It’s the one he uses in the middle of the night when his fingers trace my skin to wake me. The soft touches turn into something stronger, harder, working me up.
It’s the same now. He coaxes my body, his hand sliding around to circle my clit. I breathe deeply, falling into the sensation.
“Just like that, sweetheart.” His praises kiss me like a reward. “Relax.”
