Page 24 of The Pakhan’s Stolen Bride

Even now, my trousers are uncomfortably tight, my cock thick and throbbing against the heavy denim.

I let out a slow, rough breath, forcing myself to turn away from the bed. I walk to the heavy double doors, my boots making no sound on the plush carpet. The digital lock chirps as I step out into the hallway, the sound a sharp contrast to the quiet of the room.

Dmitri is waiting by the stairs, a tablet in his hand, his face shadowed with exhaustion.

"The perimeter is clear." He swipes a finger across the screen. "Petr’s men have retreated past the river. But the city is buzzing, Boss. The Russo family is already calling for a meeting of the council. They want to know why the North is executing Bratva soldiers in the streets."

"Ignore them." I lead the way down the marble staircase, my hand resting on the handrail. "They’ll have their answer tonight at the summit."

"And the girl?" Dmitri stops at the landing, looking at me with a steady, questioning gaze. "Are we keeping her locked in the north wing?"

"No." I halt, turning my head to look back up the stairs. "She’s a Kovalevskii now. Tonight, the entire city is going to see her on my arm. They need to know that any move against her is a direct declaration of war on me. Make sure she’s ready for tonight.”

"I’ll call the design team." Dmitri nods, already typing on his tablet. "They’ll be here within the hour."

I walk down to my office, my mind still trapped in the memory of her skin.

An hour later, the front gates chime. Yara leads three women into the foyer, all of them carrying heavy black garment bags and leather cases. They look nervous, their eyes darting to the armed guards standing at the corners of the room. The lead stylist, a tall woman with sharp glasses and a severe bun, bows her head slightly when she sees me.

"We brought the winter collection, Pakhan," she murmurs, gesturing to the bags. "As requested. Dark silk, velvet, and the custom jewelry."

"Take it up to the north suite," I direct, my voice flat. "Transform her. I want her looking like a queen."

I follow them up the stairs. When I open the bedroom door, the light is still dim. Via is stirring. She blinks against the sudden glare of the hallway light, her eyes focusing on me, then on the three women entering behind me with the racks of dark clothes.

She sits up quickly, pulling the silk sheet up to her collarbone, her eyes instantly turning sharp.

"What is this?" She looks at the black garment bags being unzipped, revealing dresses of deep burgundy, dark emerald, and silk. "W-What’s going on?"

I stand by the door, my arms crossed. "You’re dressing for the summit tonight."

"I’m not going anywhere with you!” She glares at the stylist who tries to step closer with a measuring tape. "T-Touch me, and I’ll use that tape to strangle you."

The stylist flinches, stepping back toward the door with a pale face.

I wave my hand, gesturing to the women. "Leave the clothes. Get out."

They don't need to be told twice. They set the bags down, leave the leather cases on the vanity, and scurry out of the room like mice, the door clicking shut behind them.

Via stays huddled in the center of the bed, her fingers clutching the sheet so hard her knuckles are white. Her eyes track me as I walk slowly toward the vanity. "I told you, Ilya. I’m not playing your little game. I’m not going to be your trophy."

"You're going to be whatever I say you are, little bird." I reach down and pick up a pair of dark, provocative heels from one of the boxes, stiletto heels made of black leather with thin straps designed to wrap around her ankles. "You're my wife. And tonight, you will play the part."

"I’d rather die."

She reaches down, snatches a heavy, solid wood shoe from the floor, and hurls it straight at my face.

The heavy heel flies past my ear, slamming into the plaster wall behind me with a loud thud and leaving a deep dent in the drywall.

I look at the dent, then slowly turn my gaze back to her.

Her breath catches, her eyes widening slightly as she realizes her little display didn't even make me blink. She tries to scramble backward toward the headboard, but the sheet catches on her legs, trapping her.

I close the distance in three long strides and climb onto the edge of the mattress and grab her by the ankle. She lets out a sharp, angry gasp, kicking out with her free leg, but I catch that one too. I drag her down the bed until she’s lying flat on her back, her golden hair splayed across the sheets, my massive body looming directly over hers.

I pin her wrists to the mattress on either side of her head, my chest pressing against hers, my bandage rubbing against her bare skin. Sweet, warm vanilla fills my lungs, turning my blood to liquid fire.

"You have a lot of fight in you for a girl who was begging me to stop four hours ago," I rasp, my mouth inches from hers.