He steps closer, invading my space. He’s close enough that I can smell the expensive scotch on his breath.
"I gave you what you wanted: your father's voice," he says. "Now, you give me what’s mine."
I look up at him. The conflict rages in my chest. I should hate him. I do hate him. He coerced me, trapped me, and forced a ring on my finger.
But my father... my father erased me. He made me feel small. Disposable.
"Konstantin," I whisper, my hands coming up to push against his chest. My palms tingle where they meet his shirt.
"It's been a long day," I breathe, my eyes searching his. "Can we... wait?"
"Wait?" He raises an eyebrow.
"We’re married, Helena," he says, covering my hand with his. "And I'm done holding back."
He releases me, but his gaze pushes me toward the hall.
"Go to the room."
I don't argue. I turn and walk into the master suite.
I’m standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the rain, when the lock clicks shut behind me.
It’s Konstantin. He’s removed his jacket and tie.
"Undress," he orders.
I don't move.
"He didn't even ask if I was okay," I whisper. "My father... he just wanted the shipping codes."
My husband crosses the room. I feel his heat before I feel his touch. He spins me around, pressing me against the cold glass.
"He’s the past," he says, voice rough.
"I have nothing left," I say. "I’m empty.”
"Then I’ll fill you," he growls, stepping between my legs. "I own you now. I take everything. That’s the deal."
He grips the neckline of my blouse.
I look up at him. I should hate him. He’s the monster who trapped me.
But looking into his eyes, the anger drains out of me, replaced by a hard truth. My father looked at me and saw a liability he could cut loose. Konstantin looks at me like a prize he’d burn the city to keep.
He’s a monster, yes. But he’s the only one standing between me and emptiness.
With him, I don't only feel safe. I feel seen.
And God help me, I want him. Not to forget the pain, but because he’s the only man strong enough to keep me.
I don't pull away. I step closer, pressing my body against his, craving his heat.
"Take it," I whisper, my voice breathless. "Show me I'm yours."
He doesn’t wait.
He snarls and seizes the front of my blouse in both fists, ripping it open. Fabric tears. My breasts spill free, bouncing hard, nipples already stiff and aching for him.
