Time flies by swiftly.
It’s past noon now.
I sit by the window in the bedroom with a glass of vodka in one hand and my tablet in the other, watching closely as she assists with the yacht arrangements.
She moves along the deck like a boss,like me,with a confidence that none of my men can intimidate out of her as she gestures at several objects on the yacht.
I tilt my head back, taking a sip from the glass.
Her proactive mannerisms don’t fool me.
As I watch her double-check the passenger manifests and signal the crew, I notice the subtle deviations from my exact instructions.
It’s almost minor, but it’s there nonetheless—a slight alteration in the docking sequence and a ledger left open just a second too long near a secure terminal.
Every instinct drilled into me by the bratva demands absolute control.
From the first night I brought her in, the first course of action should have been the total breaking of her will, until she was nothing but obedient, following my every command like a lost puppy.
But every time I look at her, a dark fascination paralyzes that ruthlessness.
I don’t understand it, but I am utterly obsessed with her mind. How the analytical gears turn behind those defiant green eyes.
Just as much as I’m obsessed with her body.
She’s like a puzzle I want to solve, even if the pieces cut my hands.
And that fascination sizzles through the rest of the afternoon, until after dusk settles.
I’m leaning against the doorframe, a full glass of vodka loose in my hand, when Elena walks into the room. Her eyes widen for only a fraction of a second when she sees me.
Then she tears her gaze away, shutting the door behind her. “Hello.”
Maybe it’s the amount of vodka I’ve consumed today, but I feel lighter and more loose-lipped than usual.
I put down the glass and grab my phone, scrolling through the recent updates from Artem. “That’s how you say hello to your husband?”
I hear her snort, then shut the wardrobe. “Do you want me to kneel down and worship you? Because I could do that. After all, you did spare my life and give it a whole new meaning.”
I suppress a smirk.
The tone of her voice is low—not nice, but not aggressive either. But the look in her eyes when she turns around is sharp, highly alert, and somewhat evasive.
“Sounds like something I’d love to see…you on your knees with your eyes lifted up, adoring me.”
“Doesn’t surprise me that that’s the only part you heard,” she murmurs, then tears her gaze awayagain, to look at the mirror.
“So, will you?” I push, hoping to get some sort of rise out of her.
It works.
She huffs, lifting her hands as she starts to change out of her day clothes. “Will I what?”
“Kneel and adore me?”
She thinks I’m paying attention to my phone, but my gaze is locked on the slow glide of fabric over her skin.
A teasing smile pulls at my lips.
