The way the towel clung to him, outlining everything…
I leaned too far forward and rattled the handcuffs. He smirked and loomed over me. My proximity senses went off, but not in the normal way. Usually, I wanted people out of mybubble, but the warmth of his skin as he leaned over me didn’t evoke the need to recoil.
So, this was finally happening. My mind went blank, the urge to fight shriveling up as fear and something I refused to identify warred inside me. It wasn’t desire. That was impossible.
He unlocked the cuffs and rubbed my raw wrist for a second before dropping it. It fell onto my lap since I was unable to move, or speak, and breathing was becoming a problem. He pushed me aside and climbed into bed, thumping the pillow before resting against it.
“I’m a light sleeper,” he warned. “You won’t get far if you try, so don’t try. I’ve been up all night, so be quiet.”
I scurried off the bed as he stretched out his long, muscular legs, which threatened to bulldoze me off. The look he gave me made my blood boil, and not just with wrath at being so ignominiously bound to the bed like that. His eyes dropped appreciatively, much the same as mine must have done when he first came out of the shower.
I turned and ran into the bathroom to the sound of his self-satisfied chuckle. I took my own shower to get the grime of hiding behind a dumpster off of me, then perused the linen closet and all the drawers in the big bathroom. There was no way I’d leave until I was certain he was asleep, and pressing my ear to the door didn’t tell me anything.
The bathroom was basically a small palace, with gold fixtures and white marble counters, and a huge window overlooking the garden. After my quick shower, I found his robe hanging on a hook and wrapped up in it. The big, deep tub called to my aches and pains, but I didn’t dare get in and luxuriate with Gavril just on the other side of the door. The view outside only kept me entranced for so long, with only a few breezes rufflingthe trees and a sighting of one of the discreet guards talking to a gardener. I was fading fast, but the idea of lying down on the thick white rug near the closet didn’t seem dignified.
After the need to sleep overrode my fear of what would happen if Gavril was still awake, I cracked open the door to take a peek.
“You must have a very in-depth beauty routine,” he said, still awake, still resting against the pillows, his phone in his hand, but his eyes on me. “Here I thought you were more the natural type.”
“I’m actually very low maintenance,” I said, wrapping the big robe tighter around me. It smelled like his intoxicating cologne, but it was better than putting on my own clothes, which were sweaty and dusty from my escape attempt.
He laughed. “Not that I’ve seen.”
I ignored the jibe but couldn’t ignore the long, assessing look he gave me. Did he really think I’d join him?
“What will happen if I refuse to sleep in your bed?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
“You’re welcome to go ahead and find out if you’re that curious,” he said, rattling the handcuff that still hung from the post.
I ignored his low, rumbling laugh and got on the other side of the bed, staying as far away from him as possible. I was practically half off the mattress, but could still feel the heat radiating off of him. And he was still naked under the blanket that rested across his firm stomach. Was he flexing?
I turned away, grabbing my book and curling into a ball. The room was a comfortable temperature, but as I read and slowly drifted off to sleep, I felt chilled and wished I dared getunder the covers. But that was where he was. I only curled up tighter and read a few more pages until the book finally fell out of my hand.
The sweet lure of sleep was dragging me further under, and it almost seemed like I was already dreaming as a blanket dropped over me, a big hand tucking it in around me and smoothing gently over my side.
A very nice dream, with the warmth feeling so real, I let myself drift completely to sleep.
Chapter 18 - Gavril
I canceled all my meetings for that day. Maybe I could have carried on with my regular schedule with no sleep if I hadn’t had to deal with Lilia’s failed escape attempt. Now I had my wife cuffed to the bed, and hell would freeze over before I let her out of my sight any time soon.
As soon as I set her free, she cowered in the bathroom for almost an hour. No amount of exhaustion would have let me close my eyes until she returned and knew where she belonged. The sight of her in my robe, three sizes too big and gaping open in front, no matter how she tried to keep it tugged around her, woke me up again in a hurry.
She was as determined as ever to pretend I didn’t exist after her feeble attempt to defy me. Once she knew my bed was her bed now, she got in, but as far away as possible without rolling onto the floor. Eventually, she fell asleep, stubbornly refusing to get under the covers, so I put a spare blanket over her huddled form. My hand just happened to slide down her body of its own accord.
Sleeping next to her was hell, and it remained that way for the next several days. I wanted her more and more, but my wife was still skittish. I needed her to be the one to tear my clothes off, not the other way around, and she still viewed me as an enemy.
Wasn’t I just that? Could the marriage I forced her into ever be real? For some reason I couldn’t understand, I wouldn’t mind if it was. I couldn’t name that reason, because she was absolutely more trouble than she was worth.
Or, was she?
I was still having problems with Luigi and his underlings and had taken to organizing secret meetings with the men I would stake my life on being loyal to me. I called more over from Russia, and soon I would have the numbers on my side. Luigi might be the one thinking he was arranging a takeover, but he’d be surprised when he was the one on the wrong side of the gun.
If a coup had to happen, I’d be leading it. And I’d win.
When I wasn’t taking secret meetings and doing shady deals to either dismantle or rebuild the Collective, which I was starting to view as a bigger annoyance than my bride, I was spending all the time I could with my biggest and most beautiful problem.
Strategic? Maybe. I couldn’t name a reason why. She infuriated me half the time, but I still went back for more, making sure we ate every possible meal together, listening to her talk about books, and dragging her into the theater every evening to watch more of those adaptations she loved so much. A waste of time, all of them, but somehow still fascinating when she was beside me.
