Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92957 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Alright, then. Strange, but that’s fine. She’s so damn adorable leaning against the rail I can’t help but crook a finger at her. “Come here.”
She’s in my arms in two steps. I kiss her cheek and run my hand along the back of her neck. She breathes into me, a half sigh, half moan. “You’re such a good girl looking after everyone.” I whisper in her ear, “Now I’m going to look after you. Touch yourself.”
Her eyes grow wide. “Here? Rafail, are you serious?”
I feel my lips curve into a frown. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
“No one’s here,” I whisper. “Zoya and Rodion are downstairs. I checked the cameras before we left the room. I wanted to see who knocked on the door.”
I hold her to me, bracing her, as she obediently slides a hand under her dress and tugs her panties down. Her mouth drops open, and her eyes go half-lidded as she strokes her pussy. “Good girl,” I whisper, shoving my hand beside hers and taking over. I stroke until her back arches, and she’s breathing heavily. “Remember that.” I pull my hand aside. “Behave, and you’ll see how well I’ll reward you.”
“Rafail,” she moans, slumping against me. “You’re killing me.”
“So dramatic,” I say, giving her a sharp but playful slap to the ass. “Now go downstairs.”
Turns out she didn’t just get him fancy, expensive sneakers he fairly drools over, a new watch, and a knife. He has packages in a tower so high they wobble before he opens them. She went all out—new clothes, some kind of motorcycle helmet for when he rides, luxury headphones, and new boxing gloves. Tickets to a concert and to get his car detailed. Her eyes dance as he opens one gift at a time.
Zoya watches with a smile on her face as she prepares waffles and bacon, his favorite.
“You spoiled him,” I say, shaking my head, though I’m not really disapproving.
“It’s alright to be spoiled on your birthday.”
When he’s opened everything, Rodion stands and reaches for Anissa. He bends down to engulf her in a big hug. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
When they pull away, tears shine in her eyes. Fuck.
She’s the missing link to the family I didn’t know we needed.
I didn’t realize how badly I needed her.
She’s softened something in me. And for a minute, while I see my bride seamlessly blended into my family, my brother’s shining eyes and my sister’s smile, it feels like I can have it all—my family, my family’s stability… and her.
She watches as we set the table, her eyes dancing with warmth. For someone who’s lost everything and been forced into a situation she didn’t choose, she’s shown so much resilience. Damn, I admire that.
The whole house feels lighter with her here, and the usual tension that weighs on me is nearly… gone.
There’s a strange sense in my chest so foreign I almost don’t recognize it… peace. It’s peace. Maybe, just maybe, I can have her, my beautiful little swan, and everything else. I can still hold onto the control I need to keep the people I love safe and still have her.
My world.
As I glance at her, my hand over hers, she smiles at me. Trusting. Warm. I pull her into me, onto my lap. My beautiful wife. The more time I spend with her, the more I hope she feels what I do, but I know… the moment is perfect. Too perfect, even. Peace isn’t lasting in our world. I might as well enjoy these stolen moments while I can.
A knock sounds at the door.
“Don’t open it,” I snap to Rodion, his hand on the knob.
“Just us,” my uncle yells on the other side.
Anissa frowns. “We should refuse to open and make them come in the way you’ve asked them to.” Her arms cross over her chest, and she says in a haughty tone, “I don’t like them disobeying you.”
I don’t either. I turn to the door. “This one’s locked. Go to the front,” I snap.
They curse, and I can hear the sound of retreating footsteps, but they do what I say. Anissa fairly gloats.
I send Rodion to let them in, and when the door to the kitchen opens, my uncle and aunt make themselves at home.
I don’t like the way my aunt looks at Anissa. “I’m taking Anissa out. We have business in town.” My business involves taking her on a bit of a spending spree before we meet the rest of the family for dinner.
“My, my, my, aren’t we spoiled,” my aunt says with a sour look, staring at the table with strewn wrapping paper and gifts.
“You got your son a Maserati for his sixteenth birthday,” Zoya says, her eyes narrowed. “Rodion got a summons to court for his eighteenth. Seems fair enough he can be spoiled every once in a while.”