Owned by the Badman - (Russian Bratva #1) - Hayley Faiman

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Owned by the Badman Copyright © 2016 by Hayley Faiman All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. Editor: RC Martin, Another Pair Jenny Simms, Editing4Indies Cover: Cassy Roop, Pink Ink Designs

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Formatting: Champagne Formats

Table of Contents Title Page Copyright Dedication Quote Russion Bratva Structure Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen

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Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Epilogue Sneak Peek Also by Hayley Faiman About the Author Acknowledgements

To my Mom— Your favorite Russian bad-boy in print. Enjoy. Thank you for always being there for me. Always being a sounding board and thank you for being wonderful in every single way. Thank you for showing me how to be a mother and wife, for giving me the best example ever.

RUSSIAN BRATVA STRUCTURE

Pakhan – The Boss: Controls everything. Sovietnik – Councilor: Advisor and most close trusted individuals to the Pakhan. Obshchak – The Bookmaker: Collects all money from Brigadiers and bribes from the government. Brigadier – Authority: Captain in charge of a small group of men. Boyevik – Warrior: Soldier, works for a Brigadier. Kryshas – Covers: Extremely violent enforcers. Torpedo – Contract Killers Byki – Bulls: Bodyguards Shestyorka – Associate: Errand boys. Lowest rank in the Russian Mafia.

HALEIGH WALKED OUT ON

the stage and she could feel the rush of adrenaline hit her like a two-ton sack of bricks. It was heavy, thick, and it almost made her stumble. If she fell, her life and her career would be over. She stood, tall and proud, stretching out her body as she began to dance. Ballet—it was the reason she breathed. It had been shoved down her throat since she was just two years old. Ballet—it was all that Haleigh knew. It was why she was on this earth. Her purpose

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was to live out a dream her mother had never fulfilled. Jacques, her partner, lifted her body high in the air while she arched over his head. Her arms draped down, hanging at his back. She could grab his ass if she chose to, but that would be unbecoming and something she would never, ever dream of doing. Tonight, she was Cinderella and Jacques the handsome prince. He probably wished she were a stable boy instead. He hated Haleigh and called her a fat cow half of the time. Haleigh was talented. She was born and bred in the ballet studio; even homeschooled because school itself was merely a distraction to her craft, as her mother had put it. At twenty years old, she had never been out on a date, kissed a boy, or even held hands with one. She had no friends, male or female. Haleigh was alone. She felt like a prized animal, only for show, never to live her own

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life. Her life consisted of practice, conditioning, practice, rehearsals, and shows. When the curtain closed, Jacques practically dropped Haleigh on her ass before leaving her to get a water. Haleigh stood back, away from the dancers, and prepared for the curtain call. She wondered if this was how her life was going to be forever—alone and pitiful. Smiling and bowing for the audience left her feeling hollow. They appreciated her beautiful technique—and it was beautiful—because that breathtaking technique had been beaten into her. What they didn’t know was how utterly depressing and lonely the rest of her life was. Changing into her yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt, Haleigh left the theater. It was drab and drizzling outside and she was alone once again. All of the cast had gone to a party—one she had not been invited to. She looked up to see her driver

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waiting for her. Torrent would take her home, and he would make sure she was safely inside her building before he left the street. He was the only person who ever smiled at Haleigh. It was a sad, pitiful smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. “Good evening, Miss Haleigh,” he said softly as she slid into the back of the black sedan. “Hello, Torrent,” she muttered sadly, resting her head on the back of the seat. The fifteen minutes to her apartment building would be just enough time for her to relax from the adrenaline coursing through her veins from the performance. “I am sorry, Miss, but I was told that your mother wanted you to meet her in the formal living area as soon as you arrived home this evening.” Haleigh’s eyes popped open in surprise. She didn’t see her parents often, and they never requested to meet with

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her, unless something was off about a performance or tryout. Haleigh lived her life for the ballet, and when she wasn’t dancing, she was sleeping until the next rehearsal or performance. Her parents had their own lives, social and business engagements taking up the majority of their time. “All right,” she said softly, the nervous energy gathering around her. Once inside the apartment, Haleigh saw spots in her vision. She was on the verge having a panic attack. She willed herself to take deep, calm breaths and, luckily, this worked in her favor. The panic subsided and she braced herself for whatever her parents had for her. “Haleigh,” said Amelia Stockhardt, her mother, drawing her attention to the beautiful woman in the room. She was sitting perfectly still on a soft sage green chair.

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“Mother,” Haleigh said. It was never mom or mommy—always mother. “I have decided it is time for you to marry. You are of age and you need to produce some children of worth. I was sure you would not find a suitable match on your own, so I have chosen for you,” Amelia announced. The air in Haleigh’s lungs disappeared, and her knees sagged in surprise. “I … I don’t understand,” Haleigh whispered. Her body began to shake, probably from the crash of adrenaline, her lack of calorie consumption, and the shock of what her mother was actually saying to her—or what she seemed to be suggesting. “I know you aren’t the smartest woman placed on this earth, Haleigh, but I did speak plain English to you, did I not? You are to be married. The wedding date is in six months,” she announced. Her mother was not giving

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her an option. She was telling her, formally informing Haleigh of her future. Haleigh took a deep breath and gulped down the air lodged in her throat. “What about my career?” she asked. Her life had been her career since the age of two, surely her mother would not want her to throw away all of the money she had spent having Haleigh trained. “It will be your husband’s decision whether or not you continue your dancing career. Go to bed now. You look terrible. Sunday you will meet your fiancé.” Her mother dismissed her with an arched a brow before Haleigh turned around. Haleigh left in a daze, slowly walking to her side of the apartment and her bedroom. Confusion filled her head as she thought about her mother’s words. Amelia had lived vicariously through her daughter’s career. To flip so suddenly left an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

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Looking around at her room, truly taking it in for probably the first time in her life, she sighed. It wasn’t her. Not in the slightest. The room was cotton candy pink; the ballet prints framed and placed throughout the space made her head spin. She was an adult woman living in a child’s room. The reality of that truth bothered her, and for the first time, the space was suffocating. She had never been on her own, and now, she never would be. Her life as she knew it was over. In just six short months, she was to be given to some stranger. The days came and went until it was finally time to meet the mystery man himself. Haleigh’s parents had not told her anything about him. She was nervous, yet excited to meet him. It was odd to feel excitement over meeting a man she would come to know as her husband, but something about the situation intrigued Haleigh. This was not normal in America; nothing about Haleigh’s life had

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been normal for a child or teenager anyway, so why should her adulthood be any different? This man, her fiancé, was going to change her world. Gone would be the sterile environment of her family’s apartment, and she would be able to create a home of her own. She only hoped the man she was to be given to would be kind, and she wished this first meeting would go well. However, it didn’t matter what she had hoped for. Her fiancé was unable to attend brunch as he had an emergency business meeting Monday morning that required him to travel. Haleigh tried to ask her mother just who this man was, but she was tight-lipped, which worried Haleigh. No, it terrified her. Her fiancé was perpetually unable to attend every single social, or private gathering, arranged for them to meet leading up to their wedding day. He had an excuse for

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everything. Her parents refused to entertain her questions, even withholding his name. Nothing but wedding details were up for discussion, and even then, she wasn’t making any decisions for the affair—Amelia was. So although it seemed medieval, Haleigh’s first encounter with her fiancé was to be on their actual wedding day. Haleigh wondered if he would even show? If he would be cruel or kind? Most importantly, she wondered why she let her mother force her, yet again, into something that terrified her. No matter her love or hate for the ballet, this was more than just a show. This was her life—her future—and she was scared.

One Week Before The Wedding

I INHALED THE SMOKE before letting it out into the face of a man who would not live to see another day. I need to be done with this man. I have something more important on my mind these days. Haleigh. She will be mine soon. So very soon.

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The suspense of seeing her pretty face waiting for me has me curious. Confusion and possibly hesitation will surely be displayed in her eyes, but she will perform beautifully for the people around us—for me. It is how she was raised. To perform. I can’t wait to strip her down, see how she looks when she isn’t poised to perfection. “Please, don’t kill me,” the man whimpers in front of me, breaking me of my salacious thoughts. “How can you live? What will you do to survive this?” I ask. “Anything, anything you want,” he pleads. I smell the familiar scent of urine fill the tiny space. It always happens. Every. Single. Time. Such hard-asses until they are threatened, then they piss their pants like babies. Pathetic. “You have nothing I want,” I shrug.

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“Maxim…” Dimitri warns. He knows I am on a time crunch and this is just wasting precious minutes. “Yes, Dimitri, I know,” I agree before I remove my gun from my shoulder holster and pull the trigger, aiming at the man’s forehead. “Why do you play with them?” Dimitri asks as he motions for the men hanging around the edges of the room to clean the mess up. “Why not?” I ask with a grin. “You’re a sick fuck,” he chuckles. I nod in agreement. I am. I am very sick. He knows exactly how fucking sick I truly am. “Take me to her,” I order. I do not need to explain who exactly I wish to see. He knows. He also knows who I go to see after I do this. It is a routine now.

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The building is the same. Artistic and tall—pretty, if you are into modern décor. I could give a shit less what it looks like from the outside. Inside is what matters. She is in there. I nod at the man taking tickets. I know him. Tickets are not something I need. I have a season box seat. I slowly walk toward my box. There are men and women in various states of dress. Some are dressed to perfection, ball gowns and tuxedos, then there are those in simple semi-formal attire. I am in a three-piece suit—as always. “She has not made an appearance yet,” Pasha states as I sit down across from him. I nod once to show that I have heard him. The lights dim and the stage brightens as the orchestra begins to play. This will be her last time on stage. She doesn’t know it yet, but she will never grace a stage again. I should feel guilty for taking this away from her, but I don’t.

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Guilt isn’t something I understand. I have never felt the emotion a day in my life. My breath hitches when she leaps onto the stage from the side of the curtain. My breath catches every single time my eyes land on her. She is beautiful, like a doll, untouchable and untouched. She smiles brightly at the audience and my dick twitches. My body wants her more than it has ever wanted another woman. It makes me curious. Why? Why her? I shake off the feeling and stand to leave. “You have only watched a few moments,” Sonia says, wrapping her hand around my forearm. “I have seen enough. I will see you next weekend,” I offer. She smiles warmly in return.

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“She will take your breath away. I already know this,” Sonia grins. I shake my head. “She already does,” I offer before I turn and leave. I don’t wait another second. Sonia will try and pry more from me and I do not have any more to give. Haleigh takes my breath away, but I don’t understand it, and I do not understand why. “You’re next stop?” Dimitri asks as I slide into the backseat of the car. “You know where,” I grunt. I watch as his jaw clenches before he drives. Dimitri gives me a disapproving look. I counter back with a challenging look of my own. I know he will speak his mind, he always does—eventually. However, he stays quiet as we arrive at our destination, and keep quiet when I leave to take care of my business. Once I am back

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in the car, Dimitri has lost the ability to keep his mouth shut. “You do this, Maxim, so close to the time when you will marry the ballerina?” he asks. “I am man. I do as I wish,” I say, unable to form coherent sentences as something foreign forms in my chest at his words. He is right, but I will never admit it to him. “I do not approve,” he grumbles, causing me to bark out a harsh laugh. “Good for me I do not need your approval. You work under me, Dimitri. It would be good of you to remember such things,” I grunt. I can hear his teeth grinding in the front seat. I do not care. He can be pissed off at me all day long; his wishes do not mean shit to me. Quietly, Dimitri points the car toward my home and we drive. I do not need, nor do I desire, his thoughts on my life. He is under my employ and his opinions are not accepted

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nor are they acceptable, unless I specifically request them. He is too comfortable. Yes, he is a friend, but he needs to know his place. “Maxim,” he calls out as we park in front of my home. I do not respond, but instead wait for him to continue. “You will be good to her, this I know. You are a good man.” I grunt my response. I am not a good man. He should know this. He has seen the worst sides of me. I find myself back in my home, in my own bed. I cannot sleep. Six days until this space is no longer solely mine. I walk over to the window and stare out into the darkness. It is quiet—too quiet. I wonder what she is doing in this exact moment. Perhaps she is sleeping? Perhaps she is tossing and turning? What has her family told her about me?

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The questions swirl around in my mind. I take a cigarette out of my nightstand, knowing this will be the last one I will smoke in this room. I would never harm her by smoking near her. I would never purposely harm her at all. I will treat her as she should always be treated. Delicately. Like a porcelain doll. A little ornamental piece only to be handled when displayed.

In one week, I will be a married woman. Married to a man I have never even laid eyes on. I sigh as I finish packing my belongings into my dance bag for the evening. I will probably never be back here again. I have

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already informed the company that this will likely be my last performance. Jacques grins at me from across the dressing room and I find it hard not to roll my eyes at his smugness. “So, you’re getting married?” a dancer asks. I don’t know her name. Her parts are with the group, nothing solo, and I have not worked with her often. “I am,” I admit as I finish neatly placing my things in my bag. “Is he hot?” she asks, wagging her eyebrows at me. It is confusing. I have never talked to this girl before in my life. “I do not know,” I confess. She stares at me, her mouth hanging open slightly. “You don’t know?” she asks, repeating my words. “It is arranged,” I admit. She blinks twice before she opens her mouth again, but I hear a throat clears behind me. Turning, I see that Torrent is at the dressing room entrance.

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“Miss Stockhardt,” he nods. I grin. “Yes, Torrent,” I say, throwing the strap of my bag over my shoulder and taking a step toward him. “You’re just as freaky as everybody has said,” the girl mumbles beneath her breath behind me. I don’t respond to her words. I cannot. She is correct. I am sure that I am bizarre in the world’s eyes. I have allowed my parents to choose my spouse for me. I live in America, in New York City for that matter, and I have agreed to an arranged marriage. Nothing about me is normal. Nothing about me has ever been normal.

The Wedding Day

MY BLONDE HAIR IS pulled back, painfully, in a low bun. I am used to the pulling, biting pain of my hair being yanked back as bobby pins are stabbed into my scalp though. My makeup is flawless—my skin looks creamy, and my lips are covered with a light pink shimmery gloss.

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I am like my bedroom in my parents’ home—cotton candy sweet. My earrings are a gift from my father, two carats in each earlobe. They are probably some kind of apology for how this day is going to end up, but even more, I know that they are likely for appearances—for show. My dress is gorgeous. Lace lays over a light organza. It has a deep V in the front with one-inch straps on my shoulders, and it’s backless. So backless if I bend over, my crack will show. It is fitted to the floor, and on my feet are ridiculously expensive robin’s egg blue high heels, ones with red soled bottoms. Only the best for me on this day. Appearances are all that matter. I am to be presented to my future husband as the picture, perfect, bride. I don’t have a veil, just some crystals placed randomly in my bun. My something old is the teardrop diamond necklace that was my great-grandmother’s, brought over

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from France when she married my greatgrandfather. My something new is the dress. Something borrowed is a twenty-carat weight diamond bracelet from my mother. And my something blue—my shoes. On the outside, I am ready—ready to marry Maxim Lasovska. On the inside, I am terrified. I have yet to see the man. Every time we were to meet, he had something mysteriously come up. I wasn’t sure this day would ever actually come. I prayed it wouldn’t, but it did, and here I am, smoothing down my dress and waiting for my father to deliver me to a stranger. Waiting for him to hand me over, like some kind of trophy, to a man I have never even seen in a picture. My father walks into the room, his blond hair perfect, his blue eyes focused on his phone; forever the entrepreneur businessman. Father’s suit is Prada, classic, and it fits him perfectly. I am alone in the room, my

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mother otherwise occupied, and I have no bridesmaids. I am sure the three hundred guests are going to find that odd, but I have no friends and my parents don’t socialize with their families, so I have no cousins who I am close to or even know about. I am actually surprised that my parents didn’t just pay some girls my age to be bridesmaids. Apparently having none is acceptable. I wonder if my groom will have any men standing beside him when I walk toward him. “It is time,” the wedding coordinator says. My father gives her a curt nod, slipping his phone into his pocket. “You look lovely, Haleigh. As always, perfection,” he murmurs. This is important to my father, perfection. It is why I strive to be perfect—the perfect daughter and the perfect ballerina. I want everybody to be happy. I am a people

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pleaser, even if it is at the cost of my own happiness. It is ingrained in me to do whatever is needed to be done so the people around me will be happy. Never, ever buck the system. “Thank you, Father,” I say softly, dipping my head slightly as I wrap my arm around his offered elbow. “You will not embarrass me. This marriage is very important,” he informs me curtly. I’m not sure why it is so important that I marry this stranger, but I have always been taught to never, ever question the decisions my parents make for me—and they make all of my decisions. “I would never intentionally embarrass you, Father,” I admit softly, and I wouldn’t. I am a good girl. I always do what I am told—always. We stand in front of the closed double doors of the church, and I let out a shaky

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breath. It is time. I watch the wedding planner pull the doors open, and all eyes are on us. Six hundred eyes. Three hundred people. All of them focused on me. I smile softly, trying not to panic. I imagine I am on the stage as the music begins and we walk toward the altar. I hold my breath, my eyes scanning the man standing at the front—my soon-to-be husband. The man is tall, so much taller than I expected, standing somewhere around six-footfive-inches. He is broad and big, but with a trim waist. His middle is thick with muscle, but his stomach flat at the same time. His body is, of course, encased in his suit. Armani. I can tell the brands of suits almost as easily as women’s shoes. My father adores his suits and my mother her shoes. When I finally reach his side, he looks down at me and I gasp. Maxim Lasovska is older than me by at least ten years. He has a scar on his upper lip, but neither of these

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things makes him less beautiful, and he is just that—beautiful. He has a full head of light brown hair, slightly longer than my father’s perfectly trimmed locks, messier too. Even still, he looks like a model. His face is clean-shaven, and his blue eyes sparkle. I do not understand why this man is marrying a complete stranger, not when he could have any woman on the planet at his side. He holds his huge hand out, and I slip my much smaller one inside, noticing the size difference. He wraps his warm fingers around my hand, and I feel a surge of energy flow throughout my entire body. I don’t pay attention to the ceremony; I robotically speak at my turn, sliding the tungsten ring on my new husband’s large finger when I am prompted. I feel as though he slides a brick on my own finger. The wedding ring is gigantic. It is at least a ten-carat weight emerald-cut diamond. The ostentatious ring itself makes me wonder just who

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this man is, and how rich is he to afford such a gorgeous piece of jewelry for his wife—who is a complete stranger to him? When the priest announces that we are joined in holy matrimony, Maxim places his gigantic hands on my cheeks and bends down, giving me soft and gentle closedmouth kiss. My first kiss is unexpectedly beautiful. Soft and sweet, his full lips brush mine and send warmth throughout my belly and my entire body, better than I had ever anticipated. I smile widely as we make our way past friends and family who are clapping with joy and jubilation over our vows. I feel like a liar. It isn’t right. We don’t love each other; we don’t even know each other, but here we are before God and every person in our lives, claiming that we are truly soul mates, lovers, and friends.

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Once we are outside of the church, I look for the car that will take us to our reception. But there is no limousine waiting for us. Instead, there is a Bentley with a driver standing with the door open, awaiting our arrival. “Inside, Haleigh,” Maxim murmurs. His rich, deep accented voice sends chills over my body as his hand leaves mine to slide to the small of my back, and he gently pushes me inside. “Congratulations, sir,” the driver says with a smile. He too has an accent, Russian perhaps? Maxim nods and follows behind me into the car. Now, we are truly alone, and I am back to being terrified. “I apologize that I was unable to attend the pre-wedding functions,” he says coolly. The words are an apology, but I don’t think they are sincere. His heavy Russian accent, now completely recognizable to me, is thick and his voice a deep timbre. Not what I

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expected at all. I smile and shake my head, trying to brush off the disappointment and worry of not meeting him ahead of time. It is over now. “I understand. You had business,” I say shakily. His eyes darken to a rich blue, and I don’t know what that means, but they are still alluring, and I am finding it difficult to look away from them. “Did your father tell you of my business?” he asks. I can feel his anger throughout the car; it is almost palatable. “No, my mother only told me that you were unable to attend certain events because business kept you away. I only meant that I wasn’t upset or bothered because I know how important a career is, and things happen that are unavoidable,” I scramble, trying to defuse whatever the situation is. I’m trying to calm his anger since I do not know him and I have no idea how reacts to being angry. He nods, the displeasure somehow drifting

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away as he contemplates my carefully chosen words. “Do you know what it is that I do?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. I shake my head, again. “What do you know of me?” He questions. Apparently, this is question and answer time. I decide to oblige because I want to know everything I can about this man, my husband. “I was only given your name, Maxim Lasovska, and that my mother chose you to be my husband,” I admit looking around and noticing that we are not headed toward the reception. I frown in confusion, turning to face him. “We will not attend the reception. We are going home. Your home now too, I suppose,” he informs me as if he can read my thoughts.

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I suck in a breath; this is not how I pictured this day going. I thought I would have more time to mentally prepare for my wedding night. I thought I could somehow charm him into giving me more time. I thought wrong. “I have my mother’s bracelet still and my grandmother’s necklace. She told me I wasn’t to leave the reception before giving it all back to her.” Panic begins to claw up my throat, and my shoulders start to tremble. My mother is going to kill me. “Dimitri can take it to her after he drops us off,” Maxim offers. I look up at him in complete shock. No, Dimitri cannot take it to her. She will come over to Maxim’s house and beat me just for taking it off without being in her presence. I should have never accepted the offer to borrow them.

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“She ... I can’t … I need to be the one to give it to her,” I finally say, practically begging and pleading. Maxim’s intelligent gaze washes over me, reading me, understanding me. His large hand cups my cheek, and then he speaks so very softly, his voice deep and low—almost a growl. “She will not touch you, Haleigh. Nobody will touch you but me. Dimitri will take the jewelry to her, and if she has problem with it, she can come to me about it.” He grins and I gulp, nodding as I feel the car slow down and then stop. My eyes focus on my lap. This man is promising to stand in front of me and protect me if my mother comes barreling through here, ready to attack. I don’t understand it. I look up from where my eyes are trained on my lap, afraid to look into Maxim’s sparkling blue eyes. Instead, I train my gaze on

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what will now be my new home. I gasp as I take it in. It is nothing short of a mansion. My parents live in a huge apartment. It is three stories high and three thousand square feet. This home, however, makes my parents’ look like a hovel. It looks like a castle with nothing surrounding it but trees. It is hauntingly beautiful and so very remote. In the back of my mind, I know that this is where I am going to be kept, hidden away, shown off for business dinners and parties the same way my parents sent me to the stage just to show me off. Will I ever be more than something to look at? Will I ever have true worth? I won’t hold my breath for that day to come. I decide, at this moment, that I am going to make the best of my new life. This is a different show. The players have changed, but it’s a show just the same, and I am to be the female lead character just as I always have been.

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I wonder just who Maxim Lasovska is? Why did my parents readily hand me over to him? Then I wonder what exactly is he going to do with me?

The little dove looks terrified. I can see the fight or flight reaction storming behind her lovely green eyes. Never did I imagine I would hold a wife as classy, beautiful, and well-bred as Haleigh. Growing up in the streets of Moscow, I figured the woman I would have as my wife would be some whore or junkie—if I ever decided to take a wife. I made my way through the ranks of the Bratva, and now, I am second in command

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of my area, Brighton Beach. It’s a predominantly Russian area of New York City. So Russian that, in fact, English is not even understood in the streets. I don’t live in Brighton Beach, though. I can’t. The city is too congested. I live in Colts Neck, New Jersey. An hour away from Brighton Beach, and on twentyfive acres of land. I need to breathe, and this is where I can do that. I am secluded here—secure, with staff, and yet solitary. This little creature has no clue what kind of monster her father has sold her to. Joseph Stockhardt owed me money, but he also owed me a debt much higher. A life. Since he has no money to give me, I took a life— his twenty-year-old ballerina daughter. I always do comprehensive research on the people I come into contact with, and when I saw the photo of Haleigh dancing in Sleeping Beauty, she stole my breath away. I had to have her, and I would have done anything in my power to take her, to possess her.

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I went to her performances to try and lure her only to discover that she did not party with the cast. She would walk out alone, slide into the back of the car driven by her parents’ chauffeur, Torrent, and she would go home. I had no way to casually bump into her; the good news was that she was single and her parents assured me that she was pure. It shouldn’t matter to me that Haleigh is untouched because I am filthy. However, I like the idea of owning someone so clean. When the opportunity presented itself and her father owed me, I seized it and made my deal. Her life for his. She would become my wife, my property. The weak bastard accepted the terms immediately, without consulting anybody at all. Really, it made me sick. She needed to be out of their home as soon as possible. Was it so easy to hand something as fragile and beautiful as Haleigh over to a

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monster? To save himself? He did not deserve her. Not that I do. I am a cruel beast of a man, but I want her just the same. “Come, Haleigh, you are home now,” I say as softly as I can, trying to be gentle so as not frighten the little dove. Haleigh nods slightly and slides out of the car. She is grace and beauty personified, her voice sweet and soft. I have never had good. I have never had sweet. I have never had soft in my life. Although, I am afraid I will break her, I want to have a piece of her softness in my home and, most importantly, in my bed. “Your home is beautiful,” she whispers softly. I simply nod. It is massive is what it is. While most businessmen live in the city, in high-rise apartments, showing off their wealth and looking down from their appointed statuses above the rest of the people. I

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can’t handle the claustrophobia of it all. I need space. I vowed to myself when I was a dirty kid, crammed in an orphanage in Moscow, that I would one day have a castle to myself; that I would have room to just breathe. I made that dream a reality as soon as I possibly could. “Your home now, too,” I say, taking the expensive bracelet from her fragile wrist, before unclasping the necklace and handing them to Dimitri. “Make sure Mrs. Stockhardt receives these immediately,” I order. Dimitri nods before leaving us. We are completely alone now. I have other staff but excused them for the weekend. I have also taken the weekend off from all of my duties. This weekend I have set my priorities. This weekend is to be about my new wife and me.

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I am going to claim something that is mine. For the first time in my life, I own something—someone. I own something completely untarnished. I cannot wait to finally have Haleigh, completely and totally at my mercy.

I AM A WRECK, an absolute nervous wreck. I don’t know what Maxim expects from me, and I don’t think I will please him. He is big and masculine. No doubt, he has been with dozens of beautiful women. I am a scared, timid, shy virgin who has only had her first kiss tonight. He won’t want me, and then what will become of me?

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I nearly jump out of my skin when I feel Maxim’s strong hand rest on my lower back, his lips at my ear. “Come upstairs, golubushka.” My eyes widen at his gentle words, and I look at him in question. “Little dove,” he responds as he guides me up the stairs and toward the set of double doors at the entrance of the master suite. My palms are sweaty and I feel faint; this feels like the death march. Maxim opens the double doors. He appears oblivious to my extreme nervousness, or perhaps he just doesn’t care. Once the doors open, my uneasiness quadruples and I am taken aback by the sheer size of the room and the furniture. Everything is big and black with hints of red, very masculine, and very rough—just like the man himself. The gigantic bed has a black leather headboard, and a red comforter with black

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pillows decorating it. There is a leather bench at the foot of the bed with two red pillows on each end. The dresser and nightstands are also black and modern, plain, without framed photos or anything personal at all on them. I can’t see a man like him decorating with throw pillows. Maxim has obviously had help decorating his home, and I wonder if an ex-girlfriend or lover put this sensual bedroom together for him. I try to tamp down the jealousy that worms its way inside of me at the thought of another woman with my new husband. The only piece of artwork on the wall is a giant framed print of St. Basil’s Cathedral in Moscow. It is bright and colorful and stands out in the dark room. I slowly walk up to the photo and look at the swirling colors. I think about how vivid and exquisite it must be in person.

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“This is where I am from. Moscow,” he states, his accent thicker and so very fascinating to my ears. “This is a cathedral, right? It is very different. Is it so brightly colored in person?” I ask as my eyes still search and take in the colors of the print. “It is. I should like to take you there one day if you so desire … to my homeland,” he murmurs softly. I feel his finger on my bare shoulder as it circles my skin then slowly slides down my arm, leaving a heated trail and goosebumps in his wake. “I would love that. I haven’t traveled anywhere before,” I freely admit. Maxim’s lips press against my shoulder, my skin still hot from his fingertip’s touch. “Come to bed, wife,” he says gruffly. His words startle me. I can’t help the chill that runs through my body.

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I am not prepared for this. I don’t even truly know what to expect. When mothers were giving their daughters “the talk,” mine was using a pointing stick to hit my toes and instep because my feet weren’t perfect enough. “I- I’ve never …” I let the words trail off, looking into his ice blue eyes as they flare with something I don’t understand. “It’s all right. I know, my little dove. I’ll take care of you,” he almost growls. Maxim grasps my hand with his and leads me toward the gigantic bed. I feel like I am going to panic. My breathing becomes erratic, and my eyes can’t stop darting around the room. It feels like it’s spinning. I can’t speak; my throat and mouth feel like I have swallowed sawdust, so I stay silent. It is my chosen statement anyway. I can’t get into trouble for questioning things when I am silent—I have learned this lesson the hard way.

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Silence is golden. Maxim looms behind me, his large hands sliding from my bare shoulders to my arms and down to my wrists. His lips touch the base of my bare neck before he slowly removes the pins from my hair, allowing it to tumble down my back, hitting my elbows. I am not used to having it down often; in ballet, it is a distraction and must be worn in a bun—always. “I have never seen your hair down, Haleigh. It is simply breathtaking.” His voice is soft and his words charming. Not once has somebody complimented me; my teachers and parents have only ever pointed out the flaws in my dancing. Each performance was a lesson on how to grow but never have I been praised. I find myself smiling at the gift. “Thank you,” I mutter, unable to move or say anything else.

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Maxim gathers my hair at the nape of my neck in a faux ponytail before letting it slide down one shoulder. His lips touch my opposite shoulder, and then he kisses his way up to my ear. “You shall never wear it in a bun again, my little dove. You will not hide its beauty from me, do you understand?” he commands. It is a complete command, and yet it isn’t. It is a compliment laced within a command. I find myself willing to yield to any demand he has, as long as he compliments me, which is sad in and of itself. The attention is lustful. Maxim’s focus on me, his attention to me, is what dreams are made of, or at least my own. “It’s vulgar to wear your hair loose, Maxim,” I murmur my mother’s words, knowing it isn’t what he wants to hear, but also knowing I could not just accept it. I would feel too

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guilty. Nevertheless, it is what I have been taught. Suddenly, his strong fingers are wrapped around my chin as he moves my head around toward him, my neck is craned extremely uncomfortable but not painfully so. “Nothing your husband asks of you is vulgar, Haleigh. Nothing about you could ever be vulgar, and your parents have no power here in this house or in this marriage. You will do good to remember that when I ask something of you, whatever it may be—you do it.” His voice is low and gentle, but his tone is stern, reiterating his seriousness. “Yes, Maxim,” I whisper, my eyes wide with shock and anticipation. Maxim nods and then slides the hidden side zipper on my dress down my body, releasing me from my wedding dress. I feel exposed, my breasts bared with white lace bikini panties. It is the most naked

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I have ever been in front of a man who wasn’t at the dance studio, and even then, I wore a nude leotard most of the time, covering my body. Maxim’s fingers dance down my spine and over my hips before he grips them. I can hear him breathing heavily behind me, and I wonder if I turn him on or if he is disgusted by my thin frame. He spins me around to face him, and he looks pained as his eyes travel up and down my body. “So beautiful, Haleigh, but so achingly thin,” he whispers as if it hurts his heart to even think the words, let alone say them. “I-I have to stay thin so that I can be lifted by my partners. Plus, I dance ten hours every day of the week. I’m sorry that I don’t appeal to you, Maxim. You must be terribly disappointed,” I confess shakily, looking down. I can’t look him in the eye. I can’t see the disappointment that is there, where I

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know it most certainly is. Instead, I stare at his beautiful thick throat and wait. “Haleigh, look at me.” His tone is sharp, commanding, and my eyes automatically dart to meet his. “You are beautiful, in every way. You do not disappoint me. I am just concerned for your health. This body that you carry is not a healthy one,” he rasps. Maxim’s concern floods my heart. A man who doesn’t know me is concerned for my health—it is deeply and heartrenderingly stunning. A lone tear escapes my eye and Maxim bends down to kiss it away, showing me again that he has compassion I have never seen before, not from any other human. “Come now,” he mumbles, picking me up by my waist, and guiding me gently onto the bed, His large body hovers over mine but doesn’t press into me. “I will show my wife what it means to be mine,” he murmurs, and I know that he is

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going to make love to me. His lips crash down on mine, and his tongue licks my lips, urgently trying to gain entrance to my mouth. I can’t stop the moan that escapes my throat as I feel his tongue slide into my mouth, warm, soft, and firm. He knows what he is doing, and I am relying on him to take care of me. His large hands slide onto my hips, and I feel his fingertips tracing the waist of my panties. He then slides over my core, firmly rubbing my lace covered center, and applies pressure exactly where my body has begun to throb. Maxim’s lips leave my mouth and travel down my neck as his other hand carefully wraps around my thigh and spreads my legs farther apart, his lower half nestling between my thighs. “My beautiful little dove,” he whispers, kissing down my chest.

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Maxim’s lips caress my breasts and I blush. I know my breasts are extremely small, and he will be so disappointed in me. Why would he want a woman with such small breasts? I have zero femininity when I am out of clothes. I look like a boy, and I have never hated myself more than I do at this moment. I want to be everything he desires, I want him to always treat me the way he is right now. I love the softness and gentleness he’s offering me at this moment. I yearn for his attentions and his gentility, something no other person has given me. I want to give myself to him this instant, not because it is my duty but because I want him, all of him, and all that he can give me. “Open your eyes. Stay with me,” he says. His tone sharp but his voice gentle. “You are beautiful,” he murmurs against my breast.

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He swirls his tongue around the flesh of my breast before he wraps his lips around my nipple. He flicks the hardened bud with his tongue, causing my back to bow, the foreign feeling delicious. “Maxim,” I breathe, the first words I have spoken in what feels like hours. “Yes, my dove, say my name just like that.” His fingers are still rubbing against my lace-covered core; I arch my hips closer, wanting more of his touch. He moves the lace aside, and I feel his rough, calloused finger slide over my now wet center. I can’t stop my hips from searching for more. But more of what, I don’t know. I just know I need more. Maxim’s lips move to my other breast while his hand goes into my hair and lightly tugs at the same time his finger slides inside of my center. I gasp at the foreign feeling, the stretching of my body, and open my eyes to

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see that his are solely focused on mine. My hands fly into his messy hair, and I feel his lips smile on my skin when I arch toward him and moan shamelessly. “Oh, fuck baby,” he groans. I practically scream when his thumb starts making circles my clit. It feels so good; I can’t stop my body from moving. I feel like I am searching. I can sense something within myself building, and I know once I find what I am ascending toward, I will feel fantastic. I don’t know what to do. My heart is racing, and I feel my blood pumping in a panic. I scream as everything rushes through me, an explosion from the inside out, and my body sings as my core contracts around his finger. Maxim’s hand in my hair tightens, and I throw my head back crying out for more, for him to stop—all at the same time—and then finally my body goes limp. With two more

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slow thrusts from his finger, he slides it out of my center and lies down next to me. “What happened?” I ask, unsure of why I reacted so violently. “That was the first step in making you mine, Haleigh. Now, I will truly own your body,” he murmurs before he kisses my neck. I feel my panties sliding down my legs and watch as they are tossed to the side of the bed. Maxim takes his beautiful suit off, baring himself to me. I gape at him in shock and awe, the first naked man I have ever seen. Tattoos cover Maxim’s body. They aren’t colorful, like some of the ones I have seen on other men’s bodies in magazines or on television. They have a blue tint to them; and as captivating as they are, they look menacing. His blue eyes snap to mine once he is completely nude, and he watches me assess his body.

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I smile softly unable to say or do anything else. I am nervous again. “I will care for you, my wife. I protect you from anything that could hurt you,” he says. His accent is so thick that I can hardly understand him as he crawls between my spread thighs. The head of his hard length is pushing against my center, and I gasp. Maxim’s eyes are focused on mine, completely unwavering. His hand cradles my cheek as his lips gently touch mine before they make their way to my ear. I feel his lips touch below my ear, down my neck, across my collar, and up to my other ear, sending waves of warmth through my body—relaxing me. “I will take care of you, golubushka,” he whispers, calling me little dove, again. Wrapping my arms around his back, I pull him closer to me, welcoming his weight and warmth against my chest. His hard

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length slides deeper inside of my body, slowly, and painfully. I whimper at the surprised shot of pain that slices through me. I expected pain, but not like this. It burns, and I can’t stop the tears from flowing down my face. “Calm, Haleigh. I won’t move until you are ready. Do not cry,” he orders. Maxim’s voice is rough, laced with concern, but an edge is there I cannot decipher. I take a few deep breaths, releasing them as I will my muscles to relax. I feel as though I want to move, I need to move. I test my hips and lift them up, toward Maxim, and his body shudders on top of me. “You feel so good, golubushka,” he whispers as he pulls out slightly and then slowly thrusts back inside of me. A rush of heat spurs through my body at the movement, and I find myself craving more. “More, Maxim, please,” I whisper, begging, and he complies. His body begins

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moving in and out of mine with perfect rhythm, sweat gathering on his forehead. He is in complete control. I feel that building sensation again, the one I had just moments ago when my body shattered, and I can’t help myself—I claw at Maxim’s back, lifting my hips and arching, searching for the exploding release that I know will soon follow. Maxim’s lips crash against mine as he begins to plunge into my body erratically, his perfect tempo gone. I whimper as I feel my body tightening, and I rip my lips from his, screaming through my release. Maxim doesn’t stop thrusting into my body. A few moments later, his whole torso goes rigid, and he roars with his own cliMax. I can feel him filling my body with his come, and then he collapses on top of me, his lips trailing kisses up and down my neck. “Better than I ever imagined it would be, my beauty,” he whispers, his hand tangled in

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my hair, his lungs attempting to catch a breath with my body still wrapped around his. I attempt to move from underneath him, but his hands tighten their grasp, one in my hair the other on my hip. “Stay, let me be inside of you just a few moments longer,” he murmurs, his lips on my ear and his hands around me. His big body holds me like I am fragile, yet safe. I look into his eyes and melt at the softness they hold for me. No words need to be said. This is a new journey for us. While I don’t know him, I feel as though this is right. He has treated me kindly for a moment that he could have very well been cruel or uncaring. But he showed me nothing but absolute tenderness. Later that evening, after we have cleaned up and I have changed into a silk nightgown that he presented me with following my bath—a bath he drew for me and filled with sweet-scented bubbles. I didn’t know what to

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think about the all-white, silk gown, and as if he could read my mind, Maxim assured me that it was brand new and meant for our wedding night—our first night together as husband and wife. The gesture so sweet that it made tears come to my eyes. This man far exceeds any expectations that I once had. Maxim gathers me in his arms, almost lovingly, and begins to stroke my hair as I lie on his chest. I have so many questions, so many thoughts running through my head. “Your tattoos are beautiful, Maxim,” I remark into the dark. I feel his arms tighten around me, though I don’t know why. “You are so very innocent, my Haleigh. I plan to keep you that way forever.” His words are strange, but I don’t read into them. My eyes slowly close against my will as his lips touch the top of my head.

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I fall into a dreamless sleep wrapped in my new husband’s strong arms. I feel safe next to his capable body.

THE NEXT MORNING,

I wake and stretch my body only to find I am sore all over. Every part of my body aches, and my core is tender and a little raw. I find myself completely alone in the bedroom as I take in the space during the light of day. I hope that Maxim will let me brighten up the dark room. The blacks and reds are beautiful but so very somber and gloomy. I

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would love to add some dove gray accents or even a completely different color—cream, perhaps. I smile to myself, trying to imagine what Maxim would look like with his tattoocovered body lying atop a cream duvet, his sandy blond hair mussed, and his ice blue eyes piercing me with their gaze. It wouldn’t work. The duvet must stay dark, like my Maxim—dark and mysterious. My Maxim—he is just that, mine as I am his. I snag the black satin robe that I notice hanging behind the door. Closing my eyes, I inhale, enveloped in the smell of Maxim. His spicy masculine scent is surrounding me, and I can’t help but smile at the memories of how it felt to have his big arms around me, holding me, being so very gentle with me. I slowly make my way downstairs, careful to keep my ears trained for any sound that will alert me to his whereabouts in the gigantic home.

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I hear low music coming from the kitchen so I stroll inside to see Maxim standing with his back to me, shirtless, in only a pair of unbuttoned jeans. He’s making something at the stove. My mouth goes dry at the sight of him in the full daylight. On the top of his shoulder, I see the handle of what appears to be a dagger; on the other side, I imagine there would be the shaft appearing as though it is slicing through his neck. On his bicep is a detailed rose, which surprises me, because he doesn’t seem to be a man who would tattoo a flower on his body. One of his shoulders has a detailed and beautifully shadowed tiger. A huge cross goes down his spine and across the tops of both his shoulder blades right under the dagger tattoo. The detail is hauntingly gorgeous, and I wonder what they all mean. They are too sporadically placed not to mean something.

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Maxim must feel me watching him because he turns around. His eyes rake over me, standing in his kitchen, wearing his robe, and he smiles. We don’t speak to each other, but I take a moment to look at the tattoos that cover the front of his magnificently sculpted body. He has stars on each side of his pectorals, and a church that looks very much like St. Basil’s Cathedral with eight domes on top covering his entire torso, almost. On his side, an angry bull wraps around his stomach, the face of the bull lands on his abs, and I assume the rest is on his lower back. On his other side, he has the letters SER written vertically in old English script. When I am finished perusing his body, I look up to his eyes and see that he is watching me intently, his bright blue eyes almost navy in color. “I couldn’t see all of your tattoos last night, Maxim. They are wonderfully done,” I

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say softly. I then watch as something flickers in his eyes; pain, maybe. “Come,” he grunts motioning for me to join him at the stove, and I do. I see that he is scrambling eggs and frying bacon. “You sleep well, my dove?” he murmurs as his big arms wrap around my waist, pulling me into his body. I wrap my own arms around his torso and rest my head on his chest, feeling his warmth and listening to his slow heartbeat. “I did, Maxim, thank you.” I practically sigh, like a swoony teenager. “Set the table, yeah? We eat soon.” He squeezes my waist with his hand. Taking a step back from him, I nod once and turn to start familiarizing myself with the kitchen—where the plates, glasses, and silverware are stored. I gather everything and take it into the breakfast room off the kitchen. The sun is shining brightly into the space, and I can’t

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help but smile. It is a gorgeous day already, and hopefully, a start to a beautiful life for us. Going back in to the kitchen, I find orange juice and milk in the refrigerator, so I carry both into the breakfast room, unsure of which Maxim prefers with his breakfast. After the table is set, I walk by Maxim and start to leave the kitchen, heading for the bedroom to change into actual clothes. My mother would scream at me if I ate in a robe—ever. Before I can get too far away from the kitchen, I feel Maxim’s strong hand slide around my waist and pull my back into his chest, his lips on the shell of my ear. “Where are you going?” his soft voice croons. “To change for breakfast,” I state obviously. I hear Maxim chuckle behind me, his chest moving against my back. Then I feel my hair being lifted from my neck and

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gathered, shifting, to fall down my shoulder; his lips touch my bare skin on the opposite side. “I will not be happy if you take my robe off, Haleigh. Come and sit down. Eat with me. You look so very delectable in my robe—in our home. I’ll have you no other way right now,” he commands. I can feel his breath on my neck; his words are soft and seductive, laced with his command. I do as he says. He has already said that he makes the rules, after all. Maxim is the head of the house and the head of me. Once we settle into the breakfast room with our bacon, eggs, toast, and fresh strawberries, I pour myself a glass of orange juice and watch as Maxim pours himself some milk. I will have to keep that tucked away—Maxim enjoys milk with his breakfast. There is so much for me to learn about my new husband, my new life. I have a

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million questions, one of which is on the tip of my tongue. “What of my dancing career, Maxim?” I blurt out, taking a small bite of eggs. This much protein in one meal is something I am not used to. In fact, this much food in one meal is something I am not used to, by far. A granola bar here or there is about all I have had in years. “What career, Haleigh? You are married now,” he announces as if I am stupid for even breaching the subject. I close my eyes and nod. I had figured as much when my mother announced the marriage to me, but a small piece of me hoped I would be able to continue to do the one thing I excel at, dance. “All right,” I say quietly, trying to keep the tears from falling down my face. One leaks out anyway. “Do not be upset. You are head woman of this household now, and you have to run

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it. I have obligations that will require you as my escort on many occasions. I cannot have a wife with a schedule as grueling as I imagine yours was at the dancing company,” he says, taking a big bite of toast. I almost smile at the way he says ‘the dancing company,’ instead of company or studio. His accent makes him endearing. I have a feeling I will be forgiving him of many things based on the way his accent affects me alone. “What are my duties, Maxim? What will I do each day?” I ask. He sighs as if my questions are stupid and annoying. They probably are, but I have done nothing but dance for hours each and every day for as far back as I can remember. I don’t know anything else. “Redecorate the house to your liking, lunch with your friends, shop, learn to bake, do whatever it is a wife is supposed to do, Haleigh. Fuck, I don’t know. I am not woman. I work long hours. I am hardly home.

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You will have to entertain yourself during the day and most evenings,” he says, waving his fork in the air. I gasp at his harsh words and callous behavior. Doesn’t he know that I have no friends? I have never baked or cooked. I have never even gone shopping on my own. My mother just sent what she deemed appropriate to me. I realize, here and now, that it is as I had imagined when we pulled up yesterday after the ceremony. I am to be locked away in this house, a possession, kept only for show. I close my eyes slowly before opening them to meet with Maxim’s piercing and assessing blues. “All right, Maxim. I would like to start with redecorating, I suppose. Do you have a decorator you prefer? I have never done anything like that before, and I don’t know where to start. If you could give me her name and a budget allowance, then I should like to start there,” I state with a nod. His face is set,

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his jaw clenched as though I have upset him. I am merely trying to do what it is that he wants. “I call her tomorrow morning and set up meeting for you,” he responds. I know he is upset because his accent is more pronounced and his English choppy, something I have already discovered he does when he is feeling some kind of emotion. I don’t understand why he would be upset with me. “I don’t have any friends or any knowledge about shopping and fashion, so maybe I can find a stylist to help me?” I ask and watch him as he nods. “I use Catia. She is good. She will know what I like. I will set up tomorrow as well,” he affirms. I gather the plates off the table before walking into the kitchen to begin cleaning up our breakfast. “You did not eat much. I told you that you are too thin,” he barks rather harshly as

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he walks into the kitchen behind me. I brace my hands on the counter and count to ten, willing my tears to stay at bay for the moment. “I don’t have much of an appetite this morning, Maxim. I usually don’t eat breakfast at all,” I say softly. I look up to him, and he nods once. “I go to my office and get some work done, yeah? Get dressed and I show you the grounds,” he says and walks away—dismissed. I finish cleaning up and make my way upstairs to the master bedroom. I notice that my suitcase is inside of an empty walk-in closet. I unpack the few things I have brought with me, wondering when or if my other items will be arriving. I go through the motions of getting dressed. I take a long shower and cry a little bit. Feeling sorry for myself isn’t usually something I indulge in, but at this

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moment—right now—I allow it. I am usually too busy dancing to feel much of anything; but since it has been decided I’ll no longer dance, I can feel the built-up emotions spilling over. How could my parents do this to me? Marry me off to a complete stranger? And why did I just allow it all? I am an adult. I have free will, yet I just accepted this marriage like a dutiful daughter. I allowed them to change the course of my life without putting up any fight at all. As a matter of fact, I embraced it. At this moment, I hate myself for being in this position. Once I am showered and feeling a little better, emotionally anyway. I dress in a pair of short taupe shorts that have a cuffed hem and a light blue tank top. I leave my hair long and down, just as Maxim asked, although it makes me feel uncomfortable and exposed. I slide a pair of flat sandals on my feet and

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make my way downstairs, foregoing makeup altogether. I hope that Maxim is no longer angry or irritated with me. I like how he was last night and this morning. He seemed so very kind and gentle, and I had hoped that he would be like that with me always. I quietly walk to Maxim’s office, where the door is wide open. Standing in the doorway, I am afraid to go inside any farther. I was never allowed in my father’s home office, so I don’t want to upset Maxim if he is the same way about his space. He is on the phone, speaking rapid Russian. While I cannot understand him, I still listen. His voice is low and sensual, deep and rugged. Maxim looks up and our eyes catch. He motions for me to come inside and slides back from the desk in his chair, opening his arms for me. I don’t think, I just do. I walk right up to him, standing between his large spread thighs. I feel his hands grasp my hips

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firmly and watch as he leans back in his chair, his eyes on me but speaking to whoever is on the phone. “Nyet,” he barks harshly, making me jump. His lips twitch, and he almost smiles before he continues his conversation. Suddenly, I feel my shorts sliding down my legs, followed by my panties. I gasp. Then Maxim lifts my body and perches me on the edge of his desk. I feel so uncomfortable being naked from the waist down as he is on the phone. Maxim’s large hands wrap around my knees and he quickly spreads my legs for him, making me gasp again. He says something else to whoever is on the line and then he puts the phone on speaker, laying it next to my spread thighs. I watch as Maxim stares at my open center. I feel so embarrassed and exposed, my face heating and surely turning bright red. It

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is the middle of the day, the room is bright, and he can see all of me. One of his hands wraps around my neck and squeezes gently; maybe he is trying to reassure me of something? I watch as he moves his face closer to my center and inhales deeply at my core. I jump when I feel his tongue slide out and lick my center, causing me to gasp, yet again. His head pops up and he rapid fires something else into the phone before he hangs up, ending the call with his eyes on mine. “Relax, golubushka. Lean back,” he gently commands, pressing his hand on my chest. I do as he says. I watch, with fascination, as his head goes between my legs and I feel him kiss me, down there. He licks me slowly again and as soon as I feel his tongue circle the perfect spot on my core, I moan loudly and so very out of character.

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“Fuck,” Maxim rasps before he starts to ravage me, licking, biting, sucking. Then, when I am squirming, searching for something … more—for my explosive release, I feel his finger slide inside of me and pump, then curl, slide out and do it again. By the third time, it is too much, and I feel my whole body begin to shake. I still and I scream, feeling the jolting cliMax wash through me. Maxim doesn’t stop his ministrations until my whole body is completely limp. He then kisses my inner thigh before standing up, leaning over and gently kissing me. I can taste myself on his lips, and the fact that I like it surprises me. It makes me wonder what he tastes like. Will he be salty or sweet? Maxim’s lips travel down to my neck, and before I even realize what is happening, I feel my shirt being taken from my body. Then my bra being released, and I hear it hit the wood floor behind me.

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“Wrap your pretty long legs around me, Haleigh,” Maxim grunts roughly. When I do, I feel his long length slide deep inside of me. I tense for a moment, waiting for the pain I had felt the evening before, but it never comes. I am sore, but it isn’t excruciating. He doesn’t move; he waits for me. When I raise my hips to encourage him, he takes that as his sign to continue. Fisting one of his hands in the back of my hair, the other around my waist, he beings to slowly pump in and out of me, his eyes focused on mine—never leaving. “My beautiful girl. Fuck, Haleigh, you feel so fucking good,” he growls, his accent thick and heavy. I have come to find that I like it when he sounds like this; I imagine not many people hear this side of him. “Maxim,” I groan when I feel his hips swivel as he roots himself completely inside of me. I can’t help but raise up for more contact. I feel like I want so much more.

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“What do you want, golubushka? What does my wife need?” he asks. I shiver slightly at his words, loving it when he calls me his little dove, and then his wife. It is too much. “I … I don’t know … I need more,” I whisper. Without skipping a beat, he pulls out and slams deep inside of me, causing my back to arch and my throat to let out an involuntary scream. I love it. The hand in my hair somehow becomes tighter—I didn’t think it could be possible—and I flex my thighs against his hips, urging him for more. Maxim begins to slam into my body roughly, over and over again. I love everything about this, the roughness of his hands holding me tightly, the animalistic sounds coming from his throat, and the sweat dripping from his body onto mine. It feels primal and I feel beautiful for the first time in my life—even desired.

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I start to shake, feeling my body preparing for its release, and without warning, it does just that. I cry out in surprise and joy. Maxim stills above me, and I feel his body twitch inside of me as a roar escapes his own lips. His hands release the tight hold they have on me and his body collapses on top of mine, his face nuzzling my neck as he slowly slides in and out of me, almost lazily. Maxim wraps his arms around my back with his face still buried in my neck, kissing me softly as he continues to pump inside of me. I realize, at this moment, that I like having him there — inside of me. It feels good and I feel, for the first time ever, cherished and even a little powerful. I have feelings I have never had before, experiences that are all brand new, and I have Maxim to thank for all of them. Maxim slides completely out of me, pulls his pants up, then falls back into his chair, a sheen of sweat covering his face. It is then

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that I realize he was completely dressed the entire time, and for some reason, it makes me feel dirty. I start to panic. “What is wrong? Was I too rough?” Maxim looks petrified, and I can’t help myself. I close my eyes at my embarrassment. “No … not at all … but you were dressed …” I hiccup and begin to sob. I feel so stupid and childish. He gathers me in his arms and lifts me onto his lap, but I can feel his body shaking under me for a moment before he speaks—he is laughing, and I feel even more foolish. “My beautiful wife. So innocent, so sweet.” He kisses the side of my neck. I can feel his lips are tipped in a grin. “No, that was not innocent or sweet,” I say turning to look into his smiling eyes. “You are correct, it was not. It was passionate and raw—sexy and so perfect. Just because we are married, golubushka, does not mean we must always make love in a

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bed. It also means that sometimes one of us, or both of us, may have some clothing on. When the mood to have my beautiful wife beneath me strikes—I will have her.” He is so serious, but I can’t help it. I still feel dirty, and I tell him just that. “You are not dirty. You are perfect, and this was not dirty. This was passionate and unbridled. It was fucking superb, and you will not think otherwise. Every way I fuck you, and you me, is beautiful and clean. Do you understand me?” His voice is harsh, and I know I have offended him. I feel terrible for it, too. “Yes, Maxim. I am so very sorry,” I cry in earnest. He holds me, whispering saccharine words in my ear—how he is so proud to have a wife like me at his side and how he is not deserving of my sweetness. Doesn’t he know that it is me who is the one not deserving?

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I have done nothing for him but accept the ring he has placed on my finger and lie with him in bed. He has promised to provide for me and care for me. But what am I supposed to be doing? Shopping and decorating? It doesn’t seem fair, and it definitely does not seem right.

“I WILL SEE YOU tonight. Catia, the stylist, and Sonia, the decorator, will call you this morning so that you can get started,” Maxim announces. I smile up at my husband and nod. Maxim leans down and presses a soft kiss to my forehead before standing and walking away. He stops right at the door and turns to face

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me. He is dressed to perfection in a threepiece suit. I didn’t realize men still wore vests with their suits, but Maxim does, and it looks flawless on him. He looks handsome, powerful, and with the stubble on his face, it adds that danger I know he must possess. His eyes are telling—when they darken and his face goes granite, I can only imagine what secrets he holds within himself. “The house will be full of the staff this morning. Yulia is the cook and housekeeper. She is the only person you are to converse with, do you understand?” he asks. It is such an odd thing to say, but I nod anyway. Without another word, he turns and leaves me alone with no promise of what time he will return. I close my eyes and think back to yesterday afternoon and evening. After our passionate lovemaking in Maxim’s office, he took me on a tour of the grounds. His home

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and estate are beautiful, and if I am to be kept essentially as a prisoner, there could be no place more peaceful and sublime. There is a private garden with trees all around, and a gorgeous swimming pool with a pool house. On the edge of the property, there is even a lake with a small teakwood rowboat. I couldn’t believe Maxim had all of this; it is simply breathtaking. I can’t wait to spend an afternoon reading by the pool or picnicking by the lake. I will probably be doing all of these things alone, but at least I will be outside, enjoying the sunshine. After our tour, I made Maxim dinner. A sandwich. It wasn’t much because I can’t cook, and I felt terribly guilty about it. We sat on the couch for the rest of the evening, relaxing as we watched a movie together. It was the most peaceful evening I have ever had in my entire life.

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I can’t help but feel sad this morning at being left alone. With two full days of having Maxim to myself, it will be an adjustment to live a predominantly solitary life once again. At least when I was living with my parents, I had Torrent to take me where I wanted to go—if I ever wanted to go anywhere. I cannot hope for something like that here unless Maxim’s approved decorator and stylist offer to take me into the city. I am under no illusion that I am free to do as I wish. Maxim made that fairly clear to me yesterday morning. Maxim is my keeper. “Get up, you lazy woman,” a harsh voice yells through the bedroom, interrupting my thoughts. This must be Yulia. She is tall and curvy, in her mid-forties, and her blonde hair is pulled up into a tight French twist. She is wearing black pants and a fitted blouse, an outfit I cannot imagine a woman would wear

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to clean in, but maybe Maxim requires professionalism in every aspect of his life. He did go into work wearing a three-piece suit. “I am sorry. I was just lying in bed. I am awake, though,” I say quietly, sliding out of bed and adjusting my nightie. Thankfully, it covers my body. I have a feeling that Yulia will have no problem berating me for anything and everything I do wrong. Feels just like home. “No need to be a good for nothing. Get up and do something with yourself. You may be mistress of this house, but I only answer to Mr. Maxim. I run this place, so you need to stay the hell out of my way, you stupid little girl,” she barks. The words she is using and the venom that is so apparent in her voice take me aback. “I … I am sorry, Yulia. I’m Haleigh,” I murmur, afraid to say much else. I feel like my mother is standing in front of me and I hate that.

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“I know who you are. Mr. Maxim has told me of your nuptials. Don’t get too comfortable in the master’s bedroom, honey,” she sneers and walks away. Yulia’s cryptic words worry me, but I don’t have time to dwell on them. Minutes later, the phone rings and Catia informs me, rather briskly, that she will arrive in one hour’s time to take me shopping for proper attire. I hurry through my shower and put on a cream-colored sundress for the day, sliding flat sandals on my feet. I can’t help but feel extremely nervous about meeting Catia, especially after my initial run-in with Yulia. Walking downstairs and into the kitchen, I see Yulia placing some food onto a plate. Turning around with the plate in her hand, she thrusts it into my stomach, almost knocking the air out of me. “Here. Eat. Maxim tells me you are too skinny,” she practically yells in my face.

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I look down to the food on the plate, a bagel with cream cheese and sliced strawberries. I don’t particularly care for bagels or cream cheese, but I am too afraid of Yulia to tell her any differently. I sit down in the breakfast room and try my hardest to eat the bagel, but I can only manage a few measly bites. I decide to eat the strawberries instead and pray that Yulia isn’t upset I can’t eat the dense carbohydrates. A few moments later, I hear high heels clicking on the travertine floor and look up to see a stunning dark-haired woman coming my way. She is tall and built like a woman, large breasts, small waist, and flared hips. Her dark hair is pulled up into a bun, high on top of her head, and her makeup is flawless. She is wearing a beautiful pencil skirt, a teal silk blouse that shows off her ample cleavage, and heels so high, I definitely would fall flat on my ass wearing them. I smile at her, and she just scowls. Then, when

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I stand, her eyes roam over my body and she smirks. “You are Maxim’s wife?” she says with her lips tipped in a smile. It makes me feel extremely self-conscious. “Catia?” I ask softly. She nods once. “Let us go. Honestly, you will never be what Maxim wants, but I can try to make you decent,” she says with a wave of her hand. I step back from her angry, hostile voice and hurtful words. It isn’t as if she has physically hurt me, but I refuse to let it show that her words have wounded. I have spent my entire life surrounded by people who don’t like or want me around. I can do it again for another afternoon. Catia drives into the city and takes me to Barney’s department store. I know I should be thrilled that Maxim wants to purchase an entire wardrobe for me, but I am anxious and nervous. I don’t want to spend the day with Catia.

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Disappointing Maxim, however, would be so much worse. I gather my inner strength and follow her into the store. My cell phone rings and without looking, I answer it. “You are with Catia, no?” Maxim barks into my ear. “Yes, Maxim, we have just arrived at Barney’s,” I explain. He hums in my ear. “I will not be home until late this evening, do not wait up for me. Sonia will be at the house at nine o’clock tomorrow morning to go over décor with you.” Without another word, he hangs up the phone. No good-byes exchanged. He is so different from the man I saw the day before, so cold. I will myself not to cry and look over to see Catia smiling at me. It isn’t a nice or kind smile, but an evil one. It makes me wonder why on earth Maxim would send her to me.

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“Go into that dressing room and I will bring you some items. You are a size zero, no?” Her eyes are gleaming, and it is seriously disturbing. I nod and tell her that, yes, I am a size zero; though, I am sure that I won’t be for long, now that I have stopped dancing every day. I make my way into the dressing room and sit down. Taking a deep breath, I just relax for a moment. Twenty minutes or so goes by and I can hear Catia talking, but it isn’t to me. It seems as though she is on the phone. “Max, I cannot believe you married this girl. She is but a child. How can she take care of your needs?” She giggles like a schoolgirl, and it sounds weird. “Oh, I miss you so much, Max. Come to me tonight. Take me. Fuck me,” she groans. I feel like a voyeur listening in on her conversation, but she is being so terribly loud and the dressing rooms seem to make her voice echo.

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“She doesn’t know you like I do. She cannot possibly take care of you the way I can. Maxim, the girl has no breasts. I mean, honestly, it must be like fucking a boy. I need you inside of me, and I know you don’t love her. Hell, you fucked me the day of your wedding, if I recall correctly. Come to me tonight and let me make you feel good,” she purrs. I stay still, seated, and I gulp down air, trying to bring oxygen into my body. Catia is talking about me, and she is talking to my husband—about having sex with him. Why on earth would he send her to help me? Why would he marry me if he is obviously having relations with her? I am hurt and confused. All those tender moments we shared over the weekend—our vows—they were nothing, and they meant nothing to him. I am so confused and upset, I don’t know what to say or do. I feel like the

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world’s biggest fool, and I am so completely embarrassed. “All right, Max. I will see you tonight. Use your key.” I hear her heels clicking on the floor coming toward me. I school my features as best as I can. I cannot let her know that I heard her. She is not a nice person, and she will no doubt laugh in my face if I seem upset. “I have brought you several daytime dresses, skirt suits, cocktail dresses, and a few evening gowns,” she announces, shoving some clothes at me. Catia is all business, but her cheeks are now flushed, and I know it is because she has made plans with my husband for the evening. “Thank you,” I say softly as I take the items, organizing them on the hanging posts in the room.

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“Is everything all right, Haleigh?” she asks, her voice condescending and her smile wicked. “Yes, it is. I will just hurry up and try these on. I am sure you are busy,” I say, wishing I could fast-forward through this whole awkward experience. Catia hums in the back of her throat and walks out of the room. I make quick work of trying on all of the clothes. Catia may be a royal bitch, but she does have a great eye for clothing and style. I decide to go ahead and take everything she has picked and then we go to a different department to purchase shoes and handbags. I can’t help but think that this should be fun. I should be having fun—purchasing whatever my heart desires—but it isn’t fun, it is torture. My heart doesn’t desire things; my heart it desires to be loved.

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Although, I don’t love Maxim, and he cannot possibly love me yet, I had hoped that our relationship would someday turn into love. It doesn’t appear as though this will ever happen. I am to be the wife he fucks while he is home; the wife who attends parties at his side. In the end, he will have his whores, and I am to say nothing. I hate that this is what my life has become. My hope for love is completely gone, shattered, as I watch a woman, who is so beautiful it makes my heart hurt, pick out clothing for me. I know that I will never compare. Maxim should be with her. They fit together. She is tall and curvy, a real woman. Catia was right; I do look like a boy and I am fooling myself to think that Maxim has any feelings toward me at all, whatsoever. I am in his home and at his side merely for show, as I have always been for my parents. I now know there is a reason, other than Maxim just desiring me to be his wife, for why I

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am at his side. This has my parents written all over it. Later that night, after Yulia has practically thrown a sandwich at me and left for the evening, I go upstairs and into the master bedroom. I decide to put all of my new clothes, shoes, and handbags away. I need something to take my mind off my husband and the reason he isn’t home. I spend hours color coordinating every purchase — perfecting the space. Catia spared no expense outfitting me with everything I would need. Silk stockings, garters, lingerie, expensive clothes, thousands of dollars in shoes and handbags. She also informed me that she made a spa appointment for tomorrow afternoon—so they can fix the disaster I call my hair. Her words were meant to hurt, and they do, but it is for a reason she doesn’t know. I am not a vain person, so her telling me that my hair is disgusting and untamed

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means nothing. Maxim told me he loved my hair down and that it was beautiful—the reminder was what hurt. I shower the day away, crying while I am alone and wet, the only time I allow my tears to fall. I haven’t heard from either of my parents since my sham of a wedding and Maxim is, at this very moment, making love to another woman. I have been abandoned—completely and totally abandoned. I cannot even dance to take my mind off everything. My stomach growls, protesting the fact that I did not eat the sandwich Yulia hoisted in my direction. Food does not appeal to me; it didn’t appeal when I came home, and hours later, it still does not. Not when my life itself seems so worthless and lonely. I plug in my cell phone and check to see if I have missed any calls. I haven’t, of course. It is now midnight and I take two

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sleeping pills, placing the bottle next to me on my nightstand. I started taking sleeping pills when I was a child. My body would hurt so badly from dancing for hours on end that I couldn’t sleep, so the doctor prescribed them to me to help. The only time I haven’t needed them was the past two days, days spent with Maxim when I thought he cared for me, even if it was just a tiny bit.

“HALEIGH.” I feel my body being shaken, but my eyes are so heavy they won’t open. Finally, a light slap to my face forces my eyes wide. I see Maxim leaning over me. He is shirtless, his blonde hair is dark, dripping with water, and there is a towel wrapped around his waist. He has just come from the shower and the clock on the nightstand next to me shows

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that it is after two in the morning. I suck in a ragged breath at what that means. He has obviously showered the smell of Catia from his body before coming into our bed. Maybe I should be grateful for that? I don’t know. “Maxim, what is it?” My voice sounds groggy and far away. “What the fuck are these? How many did you take?” He is shaking the pill bottle at me. His face is red with rage, his jaw clenched, and he looks beautiful. “My sleeping pills? They’re prescribed, Maxim. I have been taking them since I was a child,” I admit, my voice slurred. Maxim’s nostrils flare, and I can see a vein in his neck throbbing. “Why?” “Because I don’t sleep well,” I mutter as my eyes begin to roll back in my head again.

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It is a completely logical answer, and I cannot understand why Maxim is so angry with me. “You did not take them Saturday or Sunday nights,” he questions, his gaze speculative and assessing. “Those were the only nights in at least fifteen years that I didn’t need them. Maxim, I am tired, I had a bad day and tomorrow doesn’t look much better. I need sleep,” I say. I can feel my eyelids growing heavy again. Two strong hands wrap around my shoulders, and Maxim shakes me awake. My head feels like one of those bobble figurines. “Why did you have bad day? Was Catia not nice to you?” His eyes are searching mine and he looks … guilty. I look away from him. “No, Maxim, your girlfriend was very nice to me,” I whisper. Maxim releases me and I roll over to face the wall, staring at the blank space while somewhere in the distance I can hear

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Maxim’s voice. I don’t know what he is saying because he is speaking in Russian. I don’t even know if he is talking to himself or somebody on the phone. I can’t look at him, all I can see when I do look at him is an image of him and Catia standing next to each other, looking … perfect. “Golubushka, please don’t be angry,” Maxim whispers from behind me. I feel his hand running over my hair, the same hair his girlfriend said was disgusting. His arm wraps around my waist, firmly, and hauls me back into his hard chest. “Don’t be angry, my Haleigh. Please,” he begs, sounding upset. He has offered no excuses for his actions, no explanations. He just doesn’t want me to be angry with him, and I think that hurts more than anything. “I am not angry, Maxim,” I finally sigh as I let the drugs take over my body, yet again. I don’t lie. I’m not angry with him, just so

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fucking sad at how I have allowed my life to turn out. The next morning, I am woken by Yulia, who throws the covers off my body then opens the windows and screams for my ‘lazy ass’ to ‘get the fuck up.’ It seems as the days go by, she is intent on becoming more and more abusive and bitter toward me. This is only day two. I offhandedly wonder what day three will bring. Physical abuse, perhaps? I almost care—but not quite. Sonia will be at the house in just a few hours, and it is time for me to prepare myself to meet yet another woman my husband possibly shares a bed with. My delusions of a happy life are now over. Yesterday was just the wake-up call I needed. I dress in a deep plum asymmetrical neckline dress that is shorter than I would normally wear, hitting me at mid-thigh. It is tight at the waist and then flares into a flowy

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A-line. I pair it with my new gold wedge sandals and keep my makeup minimal. I am sure the spa will show me how to apply makeup properly and fix my hair to Maxim’s liking. After all, Catia would know what he likes and she made the appointment. “Hello, dear girl,” a woman says from the entryway. I know it must be Sonia. She is in her early forties, blond hair styled in a sleek bob, and she is wearing a fitted white pantsuit paired with a bright red silk blouse under her blazer. She is beautiful and she looks kind. I pray that she is. “Hello, I am Haleigh. You must be Sonia,” I say softly, holding out my hand for her to shake. Instead, she pulls me in for a hug. “Maxim works for my husband. He is like a son to us, therefore that makes you a daughter.” She smiles widely, showing perfect white teeth. I want to cry at how genuine

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she seems. The first person to truly show me kindness in a long time, possibly ever. “It is very nice to meet a friend of Maxim’s,” I say. Something in my voice or face must give away my utter sadness because Sonia turns and looks at me. Her eyes assess my face and she nods before placing her hand on mine and giving me a gentle squeeze. “He will come around, sweet girl, never you worry.” She smiles sadly as if she knows exactly how I feel. Perhaps, she does. I nod stiffly, and we begin diving into the home, discussing where to begin. Sonia originally decorated the space, so she is familiar with Maxim’s taste. “Let’s start with the master, yes?” “I don’t want to change too much. Maxim obviously enjoys dark colors, and I don’t want to make the space feminine. I was thinking of just adding some accent color, maybe a cream or a dove gray, just to soften

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the room a bit,” I suggest. Sonia nods as her eyes flutter around the space. “Cream would be lovely, no? How about we find a tufted cream chair and ottoman. Then we can paint the walls cream? It will brighten the room up without adding anything too feminine like more throw pillows. Plus, it would be a nice little space for you to read or relax in,” she offers. I smile, loving the idea. We spend the rest of the day in the same fashion. Sonia is wonderful and so very likable. I do hope that I will see more of her. Maybe she can take me shopping from now on. “What will you do the rest of today then, dear girl?” Sonia asks as we finish discussing the living room sofas. “Catia has made an appointment at the spa for a makeover, for me. She said my hair wasn’t presentable.” I phrase things much kinder because to repeat her words would make me cry. I have already had my allotted

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single cry session, for today, in the shower this morning. “Catia is a mean little bitch. I go with you. I love the spa. We get to know each other better. I want to hear about your ballets and why on earth you will not be performing any longer. I so loved to watch you dance,” she offers. I am immediately taken aback. She has seen me dance? It shouldn’t surprise me that a woman as polished as Sonia would spend time at the ballet, but that she knows me from there—recognizes me—that certainly shocks me. “Come, darling,” she calls. I walk behind her, sliding into the passenger seat of her luxury car. “You have seen me dance?” I ask unable to hide my curiosity. “I have, yes. So has Maks. He came with Pasha and me several times, boasting about his beautiful new bride on the stage before

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us. Maks can be very sweet and very kind, Haleigh. You will see, in time.” She takes a breath before continuing, “His childhood was not an easy one in Moscow. You must give him time, dear girl.” I nod, appreciating the small glimpse into my husband’s head, but I don’t know what else to say. Thankfully, I don’t have to say anything because Sonia talks and talks and talks all the way into the city. She tells me about her husband, Pasha, and her two children, one boy and one girl. The girl, she says, is a little spoiled princess, but the boy is her biggest worry because all he wants to do is fight and fuck. She is worried he will get some whore pregnant. I try not to giggle at her words, but she is so frank, so matter-of-fact about her children’s faults. At the same time, her voice is filled with love. It makes me happy to see that not all parents are like mine.

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When we arrive at the spa, I am not surprised that everybody there knows who Sonia is. She introduces me as Mrs. Maxim Lasovska. I watch as the receptionist’s face slightly pales before she flashes a fake smile and takes us back to change into robes. Sonia and I spend the next few hours being massaged, waxed, plucked, dyed, groomed, and painted. I truly fall in love with Sonia Vetrov and her beautiful personality by the end of the day. The spa rushes out to gather us lunch, and I eat heartily for the first time in days. The stylist won’t let me see my hair in the mirror, so when she spins me around, I gasp at the sight. My once solid light blonde hair now has streaks of deep reds and light browns mixed throughout. She trimmed it to mid-bicep with a few long layers added for body and volume. I hate it.

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I lie and tell the stylist I love it, though. It isn’t her fault Catia told her what to do, that she told her to cut my once long blonde hair, hair I knew Maxim liked. “What do you think Maxim will say?” Sonia asks as we drive back to the house. She doesn’t seem nervous for me, but she does seem a bit apprehensive. It is now dark, well past eight in the evening, but I’m not worried Maxim will even know I am out late. I don’t expect his return until sometime around two in the morning again. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since he woke me up upon his late return to question me about my sleeping pills. “Nothing,” I say matter-of-factly as we pull into the circle drive. Sonia grasps my hand and her pretty green eyes search mine. “I fear I shouldn’t have allowed them to dye and cut your hair, Haleigh,” she says as she starts chewing her bottom lip. The fact

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that she seems so worried about it causes my stomach to churn. “Catia was the one who made the appointment. If he doesn’t like it, he can take it up with her. I am sure he will not have a problem doing so,” I say sharply. Somewhere between my massage and my haircut, I have grown a bit of a backbone. I think I like it. I am so tired of being weak. Maybe it is the fact that my confidence is obliterated? Maybe it is the fact that my own husband snuck away to another woman just days after our wedding? Maybe it is because I am tired of the charade? “You have my number, sweet girl. Call me if you need to,” she offers. I nod and smile, thanking Sonia for the day—the best day I have ever had in my life. I feel like Sonia could truly be a friend to me.

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“Oh, Haleigh, dear,” she calls out. I turn to face her. “Tomorrow, we lunch, and I will introduce you to some of the others. Pick you up at eleven.” She waves and speeds off down the road. Yes, Sonia is my first friend. She makes me feel good just by being in her presence—and she doesn’t sleep with Maxim, which is a plus. The house is dark when I make my way inside. I let out a breath, glad that Yulia is already gone for the evening. I don’t want her to ruin my decent day by being her horrible normal self. I walk into the kitchen to get a glass of water and am startled when I turn the light on. I find Maxim standing at the sink, seething, and looking in my direction. “Where have you been?” he demands, his voice low, deep, growly, and accusatory.

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“With Sonia, at the spa,” I say dismissively. I am so very tired, and we have only been married a few days; I cannot imagine this relationship will last much longer. I hope that he just leaves me alone sooner rather than later at this point. “What the fuck have you done to your hair?” he roars, his eyes wide, and his nostrils flaring. I calmly set the glass of water down on the countertop and brace myself. I have never seen anybody so angry in my life. I don’t know him well enough to know what he is or is not capable of. I try to prepare myself for what will undoubtedly be a huge fight. “Your friend, Catia, made the appointment yesterday. She told the stylist what to do. You know, before you went to her place and fucked her,” I yell out before I slap my hand over my mouth in shock.

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I cannot believe I actually said those words. It isn’t like me. This strong woman who just called Maxim out on the carpet is not me at all. Maxim takes a step back, his eyes wide, mirroring my surprise. “What did she tell you?” His voice is back to soothing. “She didn’t have to tell me anything. She made sure I heard your little phone conversation. She doesn’t know you as I do—she cannot possibly take care of you the way I can. Maxim, the girl has no breasts. I mean, honestly, it must be like fucking a boy. I need you inside of me, and I know you don’t love her. Hell, you fucked me the day of your wedding, if I recall correctly. Come to me tonight and let me make you feel good,” I repeat her words verbatim. I couldn’t forget them even if I tried. I then watch as Maxim’s face pales.

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“Haleigh …” He reaches out for me, but I take a step back and feel wetness sliding down my cheeks. Oh no, oh God, I am crying. I have already cried today. This can’t be happening … I only allow myself to cry once a day, dammit. I shake my head and run upstairs to the bedroom. Once inside of the room, I look around and know that I cannot stay here. I like it in here, I liked being in Maxim’s arms, but now the whole place makes me sick. If I had somewhere else to go, I would leave. “Haleigh,” Maxim murmurs from behind me. I turn around to face him. His face looks pained, and I want to feel sorry for him, but I can’t and I won’t. “Why did you marry me, Maxim? If you didn’t want me, why did you do it? I was never under any illusion that you loved me, but I thought that in time maybe you could. If you are going to have affairs, why even be with me?”

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I am crying earnestly now, my tears uncontrollable. I am sure it is a complete ugly cry, but I can’t help it. Once the seal has been broken, I cannot control my tears. “You’ll make yourself sick, Haleigh. You need to calm down,” Maxim whispers against my ear as he scoops me up into his arms and carries me to the bed. I lie there in our gigantic king-size bed with Maxim wrapped around the back of me. His big arms holding me, arms that once made me feel so safe. “I don’t want to be here anymore,” I whisper staring at the wall. “You cannot leave. You are my wife.” Maxim’s voice is stern, but I can hear a touch of panic laced throughout his words. “I don’t want to be anything to anybody. I just want this life to be over,” I confess. My eyelids are like concrete, and they close as I slip into sleep. My body is so very tired.

I

idiot. How did I think that I could fuck Catia dirty and come home to my sweet wife, without feeling remorse, or without her finding out? I have never had to answer to a woman before. I honestly thought Haleigh would not find out. If she did, I could just tell her to shut up about it and accept her life, as so many men do in my position. But as soon as AM A FUCKING

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the first tear fell, I knew I could never say that to her. I hurt her and that kills me. Haleigh holds a special place in my heart. Seeing her cry, seeing her body shake with sobs over something I caused pains me so badly. Maybe I am weak and maybe I am just too soft toward her. She is so small and fragile that I do not want her to hurt, ever, but I did. I shattered her. Holding her in my arms, I think about Sonia and Pasha. I have never known Pasha to stray. He loves Sonia. Though it is rare in our line of work to stay committed to one woman, it works for them. Sonia is so much different from Haleigh, though. Sonia is strong where my Haleigh is weak. Sonia knows the life, she understands what Pasha has been through, and she knows how to handle him in and out of the bedroom. Haleigh would probably cry if I fucked her from behind as I wrapped my hand

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around her throat. She would probably break at the thought of my cock sliding into her tight asshole. Sometimes, I need a rough fuck. Haleigh is too gentle, too small and scared for all of me. That is the reason I went to Catia in the first place. I had had a shit day. Catia just likes to be fucked, and I needed to be rough. There is no emotion there whatsoever. In fact, I despise Catia as a person. Push all of that aside, and Haleigh has no clue that she can never leave me. I own her, but I want her to enjoy this life we share. Just because she has no choice does not mean that she has to be miserable. I must make her happy again because when she smiles, it does something to my heart. It makes it beat again. My heart never truly beat, not until the moment Haleigh’s lips touched mine in that church. A woman, soft and gentle like her, could make a saint turn to sinning.

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As for her hair? Catia is officially fired. Once Haleigh’s breathing becomes heavy and slow, I strip her of the clothing she is wearing. Her dress is too short but of expensive quality. It must be one of the new things she bought. I look down at her wearing only a strapless bra and panties. She is thin, yes, but she does not look like a boy. Not even close. I prefer my women to be curvy, but Haleigh is beautiful and she has kept her body this way for dance. Now that she is not dancing, she will fill in and the promise of what her body will look like has me beyond thrilled. “Pasha, I fucked up,” I say into the phone as I close the bedroom door behind me. Pasha is like a father to me; he is my boss and my friend. “Sonia tells me such news already.” Pasha sounds pissed, and I don’t understand.

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“It … it is new …” I do not know what else to say. “You don’t talk,” Pasha barks harshly. “Sonia likes your wife, this Haleigh creature. I know how she came to be as such, but Sonia tells me she is innocent and sweet. A rarity in our world, no? I suspect this is the reason you accepted her over money?” His question lingers, but I refuse to answer it. “Sonia also tells me she seems very fragile and knows about your indiscretion already. You make this right, Maxim. Sonia will have your balls, and mine, if you hurt this girl any more. Be a husband to her or cut her loose, Maks. You cannot have both unless you hide it much better than you did,” he reprimands. I nod as if Pasha can see me. “Haleigh is innocent and sweet—pure, before she came to me. I had to deal with Sergei yesterday evening and was not in a place to go home to my sweet wife. I accepted Catia’s offer and fucked her rough.

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Haleigh showed me tonight how badly it hurt her, so I do not plan to do that again,” I state. Talking about feelings is not something I usually do, but with Pasha, it is all right. Pasha knows everything. He knows details of my past that no other man has knowledge of. “Tell her what you need. Show her how she can help you, and if she is a good woman like my Sonia says she is, she will do what you need and be what you need, Max. You have rare opportunity here. A pure woman to make your own. Guide her to what you need,” he says, his meaning not lost on me. I thank Pasha for his advice and hang up the phone, taking a deep breath before I go back into the bedroom. Stripping my own clothes off, I look at my beautiful Haleigh, my golubushka, curled in a protective ball— hiding from me. I slide into bed behind her and slowly roll her body to her back.

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I need to make it up to her—how I hurt her, how I pretty much bought her without her knowledge. I have grown a conscience in the past few days and that doesn’t sit well with me. I begin to kiss Haleigh’s neck, her chest, and down the middle of her body to her panties. I hook my thumbs in the sides of the pretty lace covering her body and slide them down her long toned legs. Once the garment is off, I gently spread her thighs and stare at her perfect pussy. A cunt that only I have touched, licked, and fucked. It makes me hard to know I am the only man who has been inside of her. I am a bastard, but she is mine and will forever be mine. I lick her entire center, tasting her before I suck her perfect little clit into my mouth. I don’t stop, alternating between licking and sucking even when I feel her jolt awake in surprise. Haleigh’s hands fly into my hair and pull my head back. I allow it,

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just this one time. I know that she must feel like she has some kind of control after I have hurt her. “What are you doing?” Her eyes are wide, bloodshot, and puffy. A stab of guilt washes through me. I made her look like this. “Apologizing for my behavior, moya golubka,” I explain. “By doing this? The same things you did to her?” She is struggling, trying to break free from me, but my hands wrap firmly around her thighs and she will not be free. “You think I fuck her with my mouth?” I ask. Her green eyes widen at my words. I watch as the tears well up again. “I would never do that. Not with her. Not with anybody but my wife,” I explain as though this should make her feel better. Shouldn’t it?

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“Should I be happy about that fact? That you would put yourself inside of her but refrain from using your mouth on her? I don’t see much of a difference,” she says, her eyes narrowing on me. She is feisty, my sweet, innocent ballerina wife, and I like it. “It was wrong that I went to her, especially when the person I wanted was you. I will not do it again. You must believe me. What I did to her was not lovemaking. It was rough, and it was almost cruel. I did not want to do that to my sweet wife,” I admit. Her eyes snap to mine. I see a fire in them that I have not seen in the time I have been around her, and I fucking love it. “So you made a decision for me then? Why does everybody make decisions for me? Let me make my own fucking decisions, Maxim,” she screams, her fists hitting my shoulders. I slide up to wrap her small body in my arms.

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“All right, moya golubka, you make decisions now, yes? No more tears. Whatever decisions you want to make, I let you make,” I croon in her ear rocking her nude body with mine. “I never want to see Catia again,” she whispers. I nod. “Never again. I will not see her, and you will not see her.” “I want to be enough for you, Maxim,” she mutters. It is so low and full of such hurt that I feel myself physically pained that I have done this to her. “You are my Haleigh. I will prove this to you,” I vow. We fall asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms. I hold my broken and beautiful wife. I vow to myself that I will take care of her and I will make her happy for the rest of her days. Never again will she feel this deeply hurt, not about this.

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I vow here and now that the only pussy I will sink my cock inside will be my wife’s. I only hope that she can handle all I will give her. My life has not been one of normalcy; it has not been good, and sometimes, I take that out on whomever I fuck. I hope that my little ballerina will be strong enough.

I WAKE UP WITH a weight bearing down on my body; it is so heavy that I cannot even roll over. Cracking one of my eyes open, I wince at the dryness. I have never cried so much in my life. My head aches from the tears, my eyes are dry, and I can tell they are swollen. I look around, unable to move anything but my dry swollen eyes, and see that there is a tanned, tattooed arm with golden hair

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wrapped around me, holding me firmly in my spot. This is the first time we have woken up together since our wedding weekend, and my stupid body loves it. I slowly try to wiggle out from underneath him when I feel his muscles tighten and pull me even closer. He buries his face in the back of my hair and I revel in the feeling of him being so close, showing me affection. I feel so stupid for relishing in his slight affections, knowing that this is the most affection I have ever been given and I am starving for his touch. “Stay here with me, my beautiful wife. Let me hold you.” His words are hushed, soft and sweet. No matter how badly he has hurt me, I cannot deny him anything, which I know will be my demise and downfall. I roll over in his arms, facing him. His blue eyes are softer than they have been in the past. His face is

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relaxed from sleep, and his blond hair tousled. He looks like a dream come true. “I will not hurt you like this again. You must believe me,” he murmurs. His hand trails lightly up and down my spine. I want to purr like a kitten, it feels so good. “This is new for both of us, and we will make mistakes, Maxim, but I don’t want to be that foolish woman whose husband sleeps around on her. I know what we have is not love. Maybe one day it will be, but for now, can our relationship start by having respect for each other? I will respect you and be with only you and do the things you wish of me as long as you do the same. “I know you are a man and are not used to answering to anyone, and I don’t want you to answer to me, just this one thing is all I ask. Respect me enough to be with only me; and if you can’t do that, if you feel that I am lacking in something, come to me and we

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can make different arrangements,” I say, trying to keep my voice soft. Inside, my stomach is fluttering with nerves and fear at what his response will be. By the end of my speech, Maxim has gone from relaxed and lackadaisical to tense and taut. “No other arrangements will be needed, golubushka. You and I together,” he affirms. I place my hand on his cheek and rub his bottom lip with my thumb before I smile. “Yes, you and I together, Maxim.” I lean in and kiss him lightly right before all hell breaks loose. “Get your pathetic, lazy ass up. Mr. Maxim doesn’t want a lazy, fat cow for a wife,” Yulia barks. Maxim sits straight up to look at her. Yulia’s step inside of our bedroom falters a bit as she sees Maxim’s bare chest sitting up next to me in bed. I wrap the sheet around my naked body and lean my back against the

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headboard. I almost smile at the look of panic on her face. All of a sudden, Maxim starts barking in perfect, rapid Russian. I have come to love that sound from his lips. I have no clue whatsoever what he’s saying, but it’s music to my ears. I watch as the loss of color to Yulia’s face becomes significant. I honestly don’t think what Maxim is telling her is anything good, and it shouldn’t be. She’s a horribly mean person. Her bottom lip trembles and my initial reaction is to feel sorry for her, but I can’t. She has been heinous to me for days, and she deserves everything Maxim is saying to her, whatever that may be. Once Maxim stops talking, I see Yulia nod once and then turn to walk away. Her cream-colored suit barely makes it out of the room before Maxim’s angry gaze focuses on me.

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“She talks to you like that and you don’t tell me?” His accent is thick, his voice deep, and rough. I know that he is pissed. “I didn’t want to bother you. I am used to it.” My eyes dart around, unwilling to focus on his. I can’t. “Look at me,” he demands, so I do. I lift my eyes, and they clash with his angry gaze. “You are my wife. Do you understand? You are head of this house when I am not home. You were her boss. Never should she speak to anybody in this house that way, especially a Lasovska, and you are just that. Mrs. Lasovska. Nobody, and I mean nobody, talks to you in that manner and gets away with it. Yulia will not be returning. It is up to you if you would like to have another cook and housekeeper,” he announces. The breath has been sucked out of my lungs. I feel as though I have been dismissed, but Maxim is looking at me, trying to gauge my mood, or my feelings—or something.

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“I would like to try to do the cooking, Maxim. I don’t think I would clean that well. I have never done it before,” I admit. With a smirk on his lips, he nods. “I hire a housekeeper to come a few times a week, yeah? My beautiful wife will cook my meals for me?” he asks, almost playfully. I find myself smiling back at him, feeling a little lighter. “Yes, Maxim. Though I must warn you, I might not be any good at it,” I say. His big hand slides up my bare arm, wrapping around the back of my neck while his lips kiss the front of my throat, making their way up to my ear. “My beautiful wife will cook for me, and it will be fantastic because it will be from her lovely hands,” he murmurs, pulling my body down to lie flat on the bed before he rolls on top of me. I am now underneath him, and as much as I want to hate it, I can’t.

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“Don’t you have to go into work today?” I gasp as his lips begin to descend to the tops of my breasts, gently tugging the sheet out of my clenched fingers. “I work from home. I spend the day apologizing to my wife, for my mistreatment of such an exquisite creature,” he whispers as he continues kissing down my body. I can’t help it, and I surely can’t stop it—I cry. Magnificent, happy tears—but tears nonetheless. “No tears, my little dove. Only pleasure,” he mutters. With that, his head disappears between my legs. I feel my thighs part by his wide shoulders as his warm, wet tongue slides over my core, sending shocks of pleasure surging through my entire body. I spread my legs even wider for him, draping them over his massive shoulders, feeling him hum his agreement to my wanton move.

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With my back bowed and my body so close to release already, I am pressing my center into Maxim’s face when, all of a sudden, he stops. I whimper in protest and open my eyes to see him on his knees between my legs, naked and smiling. “Maxim.” My breath hitches as the beauty of him, my husband. His broad shoulders, packed with muscle, and his tattoos, spattered all over his body. His hair is wild and his eyes, dark blue, focus completely on me. If only he could always focus on me this way. “I want you, golubushka. Will you let me have you, my wife?” he asks. I nod my answer, unable to speak. Maxim guides his hard length into me and stills once he is completely seated in my body. Our eyes completely focus on each other; our bodies are completely stock-still. We are feeling our connection and enjoying it.

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This is close to what I imagine making love feels like. I push everything out of my mind; the hurt, the fear, and the betrayal. What I have right here and now is too beautiful to muddy with mistakes and regrets. Maxim gently pulls out and slides back inside me. His movements are achingly slow, but his eyes focus on mine and it is the most breathtaking moment of my life. Cupping my cheeks in his hands, he slowly continues to make love to me. It isn’t rough, and it isn’t needy; it is slow and it is gorgeous. This is making love—this is what it feels like for your lover to cherish you. When his nose slides against mine, I almost cry again. Almost. “You are my wife. I am your husband. I am sorry,” he groans. For him to truly apologize and mean it is everything to me. He doesn’t have to, and yet, he still does it. It gives me hope that we could have more; that maybe one day he will

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fall in love with me the way I am already falling in love with him. “Maxim,” I sigh, unable to say anything else. He kisses my face, my neck, all the while slowly sliding in and out of my body, building a burn that promises to smolder until he is ready for it to ignite. He is in complete control. I love being beneath him at this moment. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. “Are you ready to come, angel moy?” he moans, pushing himself deep inside, causing me to whimper with need. I need to come. I need to feel him everywhere, and I try, without words, to convey that to him. Maxim grabs the insides of my thighs and spreads my legs farther apart, almost painfully so, as he pulls himself out and then surges deep inside of me. His eyes are downcast and focus on where our bodies join.

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I notice he likes to watch our bodies meet, and it turns me on to see him so enjoying himself. His hair hangs down over his forehead, sticky and slicked with sweat, and his teeth sink into his bottom lip. He looks so sexy watching us, watching himself, and watching my body take his. I wrap my hands around his forearms and hold on as he begins to thrust harder inside my wet center. The smoldering feeling of my release is now gone, and I am on fire as I come around him. My body pulses and my back arches. My voice calls out for God and Maxim all at once incoherently. Maxim doesn’t stop; he keeps up his grueling pace as sweat drips from his face onto my chest. Then his whole body goes still and I feel him release inside of me with a loud groan before his arms give out and he falls on top of me. He's smashing me into the mattress, but I cannot care. I love the feel of his heavy body against mine, and I love

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knowing that I am the one who made him this exhausted and spent. “Such a good girl, such a sweet girl. Lyubimaya moya—my sweetheart.” He exhales, completely out of breath. We lie together, my arms and legs wrapped around him for at least thirty minutes until we are breathing normally and clammy with damp skin. Maxim lifts his head and gently removes the strands of hair from my face that are stuck with damp sweat behind my ear as his eyes completely focus on me. I have no doubt he is here with me at this moment. He frowns slightly as he runs his fingers through my hair, and I know it is because he hates the color and probably the cut. I wonder if Sonia will take me back to get it fixed? The house phone ringing interrupts us, and Maxim rolls off me to answer it. I mourn

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the loss of his weight on top of me and his softening length inside me. “Nyet, not today, Sonia,” he growls. I watch as he looks at me, holding the phone out, a pout on his lips—it is comical. “Sonia,” he grumbles. I take the phone from his hands gently pressing it to my ear. “Dear girl, what on earth is that man doing home at this hour?” she asks; I can hear a smile in her voice. “He is working from home today,” I say softly. My eyes lock with Maxim’s, and he is scowling. “So no lunch today?” I ask her to hold on and cover the phone with my hand. “Sonia and I had made lunch plans, yesterday. She said she wanted to introduce me to the other wives, would you like me to cancel?” Maxim’s scowl deepens and I almost laugh at him. He usually looks impassive;

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sometimes happy, but never has he looked like an angry child. “I tell you to cancel, and I look like bastard. I tell you to go, and I am pissed off. No winner here,” he scoffs, and I almost giggle. “Maxim, if you want me to stay, I will just reschedule,” I offer, and he crosses his arms over his tattooed chest, his eyes narrowing on me. “You make me pay, though? Stay angry with me for being selfish bastard?” I love when his English gets all broken. Right now, it is all I can do to hold back my laughter. I don’t answer him. I just tell Sonia to reschedule for tomorrow. I also ask her if she can make a spa appointment to change my hair color back—Maxim smiles when he hears that. Sonia is laughing the entire time. She can hear Maxim act like a petulant child, as she puts it. “You should go to lunch. I do not want you mad with me,” he says.

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I shake my head and crawl over to his side of the bed and into his lap. I am enjoying this easiness, without the drama of Catia and Yulia. Maxim and I are good together, learning things about each other, and I am fully enjoying myself with him. “I will stay home with my husband,” I breathe, kissing his neck before I lick the blade of the dagger tattoo on his shoulder. “Again,” he murmurs. My eyes focus on his as I lick his dagger again. His hand grabs onto my thigh tightly, his fingers surely leaving five perfectly round bruises on my flesh. “I want to fuck you from behind. Will you let me?” he asks, making me shiver at the words. Doesn’t he know that whatever he wants to do to me, he can? He owns my body, and he makes me come alive with just his touch. “Maxim, what happened to the man who informed me that anything we do together is nothing to be ashamed of? You do not need

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to ask me. Take what you want,” I offer, my belly quivering with anticipation. I know I am goading him with my words. But when he looks at me as if he is ready to devour me, I don’t want him to question himself. He is all man. Big, strong, scary, and so very handsome. He should never question the way he wants me. My body is thrown onto the bed, stomach first, and I hear a crack before I feel my ass sting from the palm of his hand. It hurts, but when he rubs the area gently, I push my ass into him. I moan at the feeling that is taking over my body. I am wanton, I am needy, and I feel greedy—for him. “Angel moy – my angel,” he whispers, interpreting his words as he slides into my wet core. I am sore, but it feels so good to have him there, inside me, where I feel happiest. Nothing else matters when he is deep inside

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my body, when his eyes are focused on any part me, and when it is just the two of us—together. Maxim slides his hand up my spine and into my hair while the other has a firm grasp on my hip. “Maxim.” I gasp as he wrenches my head back, his thrusts becoming stronger, my body accepting everything he is giving me and loving it. Maxim doesn’t slow down. He plunges deep inside of me, roughly. My scalp is screaming in pain, and I know my hip will bruise where his fingers are digging into my skin, but I don’t care. The more bruises that litter my body, the more I feel as though he cannot control himself. It gives me confidence to know I affect him this way. My voice is unrecognizable as I moan with each hard thrust. I can feel my body climbing toward my release, and my eyes roll in the back of my head when, all of a sudden, he slaps my ass with his palm again.

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“Keep your eyes open, Haleigh. You will be aware when I come inside of you,” he orders, rough and so commanding. I shiver at his words, his voice deep and husky. I feel his thumb press against my anus, and my whole body tightens in response. “Relax,” he coos, bending down slightly to whisper into my ear, slowing his hard thrusts, before he continues. “I won’t take this ass today, angel moy, but I will take it because you are mine.” My whole body breaks out in a sheen of sweat. He laughs behind me as he picks up the punishing pace again. He reaches around so his fingers press and rub against my clit, sending bursts of pleasure through my whole body. I scream with my release and, seconds later, I feel him twitching inside of me with his climax right before collapsing on top of me, pushing me into the mattress, again.

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“What a good girl, I have,” he murmurs as his nose slides along the back of my neck. I shiver one last time before I pass out from complete exhaustion. I wake hours later, alone, and I roll out of bed only to wince at the pain between my legs. Maxim was very rough the last time. While I loved it, I wonder how often it will be that way between us. I don’t know how regularly my body can handle the punishing of his hips and cock diving inside of it the way he did. I shower and dress in one of the outfits Catia picked out for me. It is a pair of dark navy blue satin-cuffed shorts. On top, I pull on an off the shoulder, loose white and navy stripped shirt. On my feet, simple gold flat sandals. For a dancer, I am extremely clumsy in real life and stick to flats as much as possible. I decide to leave my hair down. Although I know Maxim isn’t fond of the color, I want to wear it down the way he likes.

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I slowly make my way downstairs in search of Maxim, and I hear his voice, deep and low, talking on the phone through his office door. The door is closed, so from past experience with my father, I know not to disturb him. A glance at the clock tells me it is well past lunchtime, and I am sure he did not make anything for himself. I decide to thoroughly acquaint myself with the kitchen and make us both lunch. Thankfully, the fridge and pantry are stocked with plenty of food. I decide on sub sandwiches for lunch; then for dinner, I am going to try to cook an entire meal. Maxim isn’t a small man, so I make a giant Dagwood-style sandwich for him, piling the meat, cheese, and tomatoes high on top of the bread. I set everything on the table and go in search of him, hoping that his office door will be open or that he will not get angry with me for interrupting his work. Luckily, the office

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door is now open. I stand in the doorway, afraid to walk inside. “Come, angel moy.” His voice is soft, and he hasn’t even looked up from his paperwork. I slowly walk around his desk and perch myself on the edge next to him. His eyes travel my legs and up to my face with hunger and a smirk on his lips. “I made lunch, Maxim, if you are hungry,” I say. His smirk turns into a fullblown smile. “You make lunch for me, Haleigh?” He asks, his smile is so wide, his teeth are showing. He is so handsome in this exact moment, I wish I could take a photo and cherish it for always. Gone is the scary hardened man, and here, in front of me, he looks almost boyish. “Just sandwiches, Maxim. It is not the first time I have made you a sandwich,” I say, thinking back to our mini honeymoon

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weekend and how I made a few small sandwiches for us. I kick my foot out in shyness, letting it swing a bit, still perched on the edge of his desk. He shakes his head, standing, and I follow his lead. I feel his arm wrap around my waist as he pulls me into his side. He is wearing light wash jeans and a black cotton tshirt today. His feet are bare and he looks so young this way. I have never seen him so comfortable looking. “You make them with your hands. It is more than just a sandwich you feed me. Your man you nourish,” He grins. I shake my head smiling; sometimes, the man is too much. His words make me feel mushy and gooey on the inside. I love it. We eat quietly, but Maxim makes moaning sounds every so often as he shoves the food into his mouth. I was right on the amount of meat to put inside. Maxim is thoroughly enjoying every bite of his meal. I only

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eat about a quarter of mine, the bread filling me up so fast that I can’t eat anymore. Maxim’s eyes narrow at me as I sit back and just watch him eat. “You eat more,” he barks, and the harshness of his voice makes me jump. “I can’t. The bread was too much,” I almost whine. “You sit here until you eat more. You are too skinny. It is unhealthy,” he orders. I bite my bottom lip, feeling like a child, like his child, and that isn’t right. I am his wife. “I am not doing it on purpose, Maxim. I physically cannot eat more,” I try to explain. I watch as he shakes his head. His eyes focus on me, dark and menacing. “I don’t care. You could have my baby inside of you. You eat properly. You are too skinny. A baby could not survive inside of you,” he states before he stands up and leaves me at the table.

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I feel the color drain from my face and my body starts to shake nervously. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought about getting pregnant, but with everything else happening to me and around me, I hadn’t truly thought about it. I could very well be pregnant. Maxim knows it as well and hasn’t tried to prevent it at all. Does that mean he wants me to be pregnant? I panic … I am too young to have children. I am not ready. I certainly wouldn’t know what to do with a baby once I had it. I try to take another bite of food, but now, I feel so sick. My head is swirling with too many thoughts. I need to do something to get my mind off everything—babies, marriages, affairs, and mean housekeepers. I leave the breakfast room and go outside. Walking, I make my way to the little lake. I slip off my shoes and feel the grass

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between my toes. It is the first time I have been barefoot outside in my life. My mother would have a conniption, but I can’t care. I take a few cleansing breaths before I bend at the waist and stretch. Slowly, I begin to dance. Stretching my underused limbs, my legs, my torso, and my arms. My body feels so stiff at this moment, and I realize I have not danced for over an entire week. I have never gone this long without dancing. I dance my favorite part—Sleeping Beauty, Act II: The Vision; Tchaikovsky’s music playing in my mind. He is my favorite composer for dancing. His music is so hauntingly beautiful and so fun to dance to. I am lost in the moment and don’t hear anybody approach me. “You take my breath away every time, angel moy.” Maxim’s voice is soft, but I don’t mistake his soft voice for kind words or a kind heart.

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“Maxim,” I murmur, catching my breath and refusing to look at him. Instead, I train my eyes on the lake before me. “I worry, golubushka. It makes me unreasonable. I know this,” he offers. It isn’t an apology but an excuse. I nod once. At least he knows when he is being an ass; that is the first step, right? I am sure that he knows, but he truly does not care. He isn’t offering me an apology of any kind, just ensuring me that he is aware he is a jerk. How comforting. “You ignore me, now? I upset you so much you ignore me?” His voice is harsh, and I know he is becoming angry again. I don’t want today to be a bad day, not when it has started so wonderfully. I turn around to look at him and don’t see anger written all over his face but worry. “I am not angry, Maxim. I wish I could please you better. I wish I looked like other women. I wish for so many things,” I finally

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agree. I gasp when he sweeps me into his arms. “You never wish to be somebody else, angel moy. You are perfect to me. Yes, I say you are too skinny, but that is only because I want you healthy—so that you will be with me forever.” His words are but a whisper, but I hear them as if he has screamed from the rooftop. I am unable to speak. Instead, Maxim lays me down on the soft, cool grass and holds me. One of his hands cradles my head, the other around my waist, and half of his body is over mine. I feel like we are in a movie. His eyes focused on me and his face so very serious. “I want very much for you to be happy with me, Maxim,” I admit. Because I do. I want this second part of my life to be filled with joy, a major piece that had been missing from the first part of my life.

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“I choose you to be my wife, Haleigh. You make me happy by being mine.” His lips crush onto mine before I can think about his words or what they mean. Then I feel his length harden against my belly and his hips push into me as the hand on my hip slowly slides under my shirt. His warm hand travels up my belly and covers my breast, over my bra. “We’re outside,” I gasp, breaking away from Maxim’s hard kiss. “We are alone, angel moy, and in a few moments, you will know how it is to be free, making love in the warm sunshine.” He grins. I open my mouth to say something to stop him, but Maxim’s tongue slides deep inside, warm and strong. I moan and truly forget that we are, indeed, outside in the wide open. I forget further when Maxim slides the clothes from my body and makes love to me with his mouth, causing me to scream with

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my release. Then he slides his length deep inside of me bringing me to another orgasm. I wonder why I ever resisted in the first place. He is right, it feels very freeing—my body bare and the sun shining down on us. Just two people enjoying each other, loving each other’s bodies, and finding our place with one another.

THE NEXT AFTERNOON, I am dressed in a coral strapless sweetheart dress that is tight at the bust and waist and then flares out at the hips to the mid-thigh. It makes me look younger than my age. I feel a bit like Taylor Swift, but it is extremely feminine. Paired with nude high heels, I feel like a woman instead of a girl.

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I wrap my hair in bun on top of my head, and the only jewelry I wear is my gigantic wedding ring. Sonia called a different spa to make an appointment later this afternoon to try to get my hair fixed after we have lunch with the other wives. I am so nervous; I don’t know whether to throw up or smile. Sonia honks a few times in the drive, and I rush to lock the door behind me before I slide into the passenger seat. She shoots me a sideways glance and then smiles widely before she winks and takes off toward the city. I wish that Maxim lived closer to the city. I feel so isolated out here on his sprawling estate. Perhaps one day soon I can talk him into an apartment in Manhattan. It would be nice to go out and enjoy the culture, a show, or the ballet and not have to drive all the way home. I am lost in thought when Sonia clears her throat.

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“So Maxim fired that horrible woman, Yulia?” Her eyes are twinkling, and it makes me smile too. “She was horrible. Yes, he sent her away yesterday morning.” I try not to smile, but I can’t help myself. “That woman wanted in Maxim’s bed and tried so hard. He refused her every time, you know?” she offers. I suppose that tidbit of information is supposed to make me feel good or something, but it doesn’t. Just because Maxim refused Yulia doesn’t mean he refused every woman or that he will refuse every woman. Nothing on earth will ever make me forget that he did not turn Catia down, that he sought her out, that he needed something from her he was convinced I could not give him. “He called Pasha the other night asking for advice. He was very upset that he hurt you the way he did,” she murmurs.

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I know Sonia is trying to make me feel better, but I feel like a fool for staying with him and for forgiving him. I don’t respond to her. Instead, I just twist my fingers in my lap. “Pasha stepped out on me once. We were young and I was suffering from depression after having my first baby. Pasha didn’t know what to do with himself, with me, or with the baby. He was lost and so was I. “Our marriage and our friendship suffered dearly. We were both floating around adrift and he succumbed to an easy woman. He confessed immediately, and we had to take a long look at ourselves, at our lives. We had to decide how we wanted to live. “I wanted Pasha, but I was so angry with him. It took us some time to heal and to trust again, but I couldn’t be happier for choosing to stay with him. Don’t be embarrassed that it happened. Grow from it. You are young

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and hardly know each other. You will grow together. “Maxim is a good man who has lived a very difficult life. He will make mistakes, but with Pasha and you by his side, I think he is invincible,” she says, her kind eyes looking at mine. I see wetness brimming in them. I have to admit; I feel better—I feel less foolish. Sonia is right. Maxim and I are new and we don’t know each other. “Thank you, so very much,” I whisper. I mean the words, every single one of them. Pulling into the valet parking area of the very exclusive restaurant, Sonia grasps my hands. “What you and Maxim are building is going to flourish and be beautiful. Some of the women are only with their men for wealth and status. Do not let them fool you into thinking their lives are perfect or better than yours is. I see that you care for Maks even in your short time together, and that caring will

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flourish and grow into something magnificent. I just know it,” she advises. Sonia’s advice also seems like a warning, as if she is preparing me for these women to be hurtful and possibly cruel. She really has no idea who my mother is and how she has treated me. I can take anything these women have to dish out. I will not break. The restaurant is stylish and modern reminding me of every restaurant my mother has dragged me to. Though I am used to the elegance, I find that I prefer something simpler, plainer, and more relaxed. The pomp and circumstance is dull and distasteful after a while. Sonia doesn’t even bother to check in with the maître d’. Instead, she guides us toward the back of the restaurant and we stop at a large round table full of six, out of this world, stunning buxom women. “Hello, ladies. I have brought Maxim’s new wife, Haleigh, with me today.” She

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waves her hand at me, and I smile shyly as I sit down in the one of two empty chairs, hoping and praying the surprised looks I'm getting are going to turn into kind smiles soon. “To your right is Veronika,” Sonia says. I look next to me at a creamy skinned woman with perfect makeup and long black hair. She is wearing a skintight tank top that shows off her ample cleavage. Her purple eyes flick over me, and she smirks. “Nice to meet you, Haleigh.” Her Russian accent is thick and her words lack true conviction. Her dancing eyes and tipped up lips make me think she holds a secret of which I am unaware. I am introduced to a blonde named Dominika, a redhead named Irina, another sable-haired beauty named Elena, a brunette named Zoya, and another blonde named Natalia. They are all looking at me the way Veronika did—with dancing eyes, secret smiles, and hidden knowledge. Of what I do

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not know. I feel beyond uncomfortable around these women. I feel like a young child. I feel like I want to cry. “You danced the ballet, correct?” the brunette, Zoya, asks, taking a sip of her mimosa. I nod, sipping on my cool water. Declining alcohol earns me more looks of surprise and disdain. “I did until recently,” I admit. She smirks. Natalia decides to interject, interrupting the conversation. “Maxim won’t allow you to dance anymore. You know that, right? I’m surprised he’s allowing you out of his massive hideyhole,” she says, acting as if she is telling me something shocking. I cannot figure out why she thinks this is some major news. “Maxim and I have discussed my dancing, and I am his wife now. My career would not last much longer as it is at my age. I am happy to take care of the household instead

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of spending fourteen or more hours a day dancing,” I say with a smile. She clamps her overly puffed up lips together and glares at me. I have offended her, but I’m not sure how. She was the one being a bitch to me. “I am helping Haleigh redecorate the house. We are having a great time. She has also decided to do the cooking, and Maxim is thrilled to have a domestic wife by his side. He was just telling Pasha last night that he couldn’t have picked a better woman than Haleigh to share his life with.” Sonia smiles widely, laying it on thick, or so I think. Maybe Maxim did tell Pasha those things? Wouldn’t that be something? I know he is excited that I wish to cook for us, but a better woman to share his life with? I’m not so sure that part isn’t exaggerated. “What, you didn’t like Catia’s decorating skills?” Veronika asks, a wide, bright smile on her face.

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I know I should stand up for myself, and maybe I should say something, but the hurt is too fresh and I find that the only thing I can do is bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from crying. “Please. Maxim dropped Catia like a bad habit as soon as he found his ballerina. She’s just jealous and pissed off she isn’t Mrs. Lasovska,” Elena says. Her voice is so soft and sweet that it jolts me with surprise. “That woman would never be Mrs. Lasovska. Every Russian in town has used her pussy. None of the men would ever take her as a wife,” Dominika sneers. The shift in our conversation surprises me. The women have decided to direct their venom at Catia. Am I glad they have moved on to her? Yes. Am I glad they dislike her as greatly as I do? Hell, yes. “I think Maxim did well. A beautiful little ballerina in exchange for a horrible woman who was trying to sleep her way into his

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checkbook as a permanent fixture. I don’t care how it happened, but I’m just glad he didn’t end up with that awful bitch,” Natalia says. Then the conversation quickly shifts to another subject. I take the break to just breathe and enjoy my delicious lunch. Sonia grabs my hand under the table and squeezes it as a form of support with a small smile on her lips as we are finishing. “We do lunch again next week, yes?” Irina asks, her voice rough and not at all matching her sleek body and sweet looking face. Every one of these women is ruthless, and I wonder what kind of men have married such ruthless women? Are they all like Maxim? Big and brawny, scary at times, and controlling? Possessive and downright frightening when they want to be? I decide they must be just like him; maybe even worse; maybe scarier.

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“Yes, of course,” Sonia says with a wave before we are off to the spa. Once I let my hair down, the hairdresser Sonia has chosen takes one look at me and almost cries. He is distraught that some evil bitch would do something so sinister to my locks. While my hair is drying and my toes are being painted, my phone rings. “Hello,” I say without looking at the caller ID. “Angel moy, you have been gone all afternoon. What are you doing?” Maxim asks, sounding distracted and busy. “I went to lunch with Sonia and some other women, and now, I am trying to get my hair fixed,” I admit, chewing on my bottom lip, nervous that he will be upset I am spending another day at the spa. “Good. I be home around six this evening. Not too late, yes?” he asks.

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I shake my head with a smile. He is distracted and his broken English makes him sound so young and so very human. I love it. “No, that is not too late, Maxim. Hopefully, I’ll have dinner ready by the time you arrive.” I hear him grunt softly into the phone and then, in almost a whisper, his words rock me to my core. “My wife making me dinner, so fascinating.” Without another word, he hangs up, leaving me smiling like a fool. When we are finished at the spa, tears prick my eyes at the transformation. My hair looks almost the same as before, blonde, soft, and pretty. I never thought I would love my naturally blonde hair as much as I do now. Sonia hugs me and tells me how beautiful it looks and how she’s positive Maxim will be very pleased with the change back. Sonia and I make appointments for two weeks from today to have manicures and

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pedicures done, along with waxing and massages. Once I am back in the car with Sonia, she informs me that in two days, we will continue decorating the house and I should be ready to shop until I drop. I can’t stifle the yawn that escapes my lips as I gather the ingredients to make a ziti bake for Maxim’s dinner. Sonia sent me a few recipes she thought I could attempt, and this looked the easiest. I am so tired, and it seems like all of the wedding stress, and the anxiety of being a newlywed to a man I hardly know, is finally wearing on me. I boil the pasta and dice tomatoes along with fresh zucchini as I brown some ground beef. Then I shred mozzarella cheese and pile it all into a baking dish. I'm finished by five forty-five in the evening. Setting the timer for one hour, I decide to rest on the sofa until Maxim comes home. My eyelids grow heavy the second I sit down.

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“Angel moy,” I hear Maxim mutter above me. I slowly open my eyes to find him crouched down beside the sofa; his eyes look tired but soft. “Maxim,” I whisper just as I hear the timer go off. “Whatever you are cooking smells delicious. Are you too tired to eat at the table? I can bring it in here for you.” Maxim’s finger trails the side of my cheek as his blue eyes roam over my face, searching for my answer. “I’m all right. Let’s eat and then we can go to bed. I’m sure you’ve had a long day,” I offer. Maxim eyes me warily like there is something he is trying to figure out about me. I grin and walk into the kitchen to take the ziti out so we can eat. Suddenly, as if it all clicks, he snaps his fingers and points at me while I’m removing the ziti from the oven. “Your hair, angel moy. It is beautiful,” he says with a wide smile.

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I turn around and look at him, my smile beaming at the simple compliment. He noticed. I didn’t think he would truly notice something as simple as my change of hair color, but he did, and it fills me with warmth and butterflies. Our dinner is quiet, as Maxim is busy composing e-mails and answering text messages on his phone. I don’t mind. Even if he is working, at least he came home to do so with me and he isn’t gone. Just being in the house with me makes me feel like he cares. I gather all of the plates to clean up. I haven’t found a housekeeper yet, so I am trying my hardest to keep the whole place as picked up as possible until I do. As I rinse the plates, I silently decide that I will call Sonia tomorrow and ask her to help me find somebody. I feel Maxim’s presence just as I am beginning to wash the last dish. I don’t even have to see him to know he is in this space.

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The air crackles and my body lights up whenever he is anywhere near me. I hear his expensive leather shoes lightly click behind me and then his heat is at my back. I take a deep breath and let it out as I wash the cheese and pasta sauce that is stuck to the dish. Maxim’s hands slowly slide around my waist as his head dips and his chin rests on my shoulder. I take a deep breath, enjoying not only his touch but also the simple way he is holding me. “How was your day, my beautiful wife?” His voice is so soft. I feel my heart swell with pride. I am proud that he thinks I am beautiful, that he chose me to be his, and that he cares for me. Also, that he cares enough to inquire about my day. “Long. Sonia introduced me to a group of women who are married to men you work with,” I admit, drying the now clean dish.

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I turn around in his arms and face my handsome husband. His brows are furrowed, and he looks confused. It is a lovely look for him; he looks so young. “Were they nice to you, angel moy? They better have been. I will not tolerate anybody being mean to you anymore,” he almost growls. I smile, though, inside, I am grinning like a fool. “They were leery of me at first, but once Sonia told them how Catia has been dismissed, they all rallied together and discussed their distaste for her. Just like that, I was accepted.” I slide my hands up his chest to wrap around his neck, my fingers toying with the soft, thick hair at his nape. Maxim’s head dips down and he kisses the corner of my lips, my cheek, and then my collarbone as his hands travel down to my ass, gripping me tightly. “Never again, angel moy. Catia is no longer a worry. I hope you realize this?” he

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asks, his breath tickling my skin. I sigh, arching my body even closer to his—craving the contact of his steel body against me. “I am trying, Maxim. I truly am,” I whisper, my insecurity raw and out in the open. Maxim slowly slides the zipper of my dress down my back and lets the fabric fall to the floor, leaving me barefoot and in only my panties and strapless bra. “So beautiful, golubushka, and all mine,” he moans. Maxim pulls a knife out of the back of his pants and grabs the expensive silk panties I am wearing before he cuts them off my body. I shake with fear and apprehension. He grins at me setting the sharp object on the counter before he pulls a gun out of his waistband as well, setting it aside. He then wraps those same hands around my hips and I look down at the contrast. Maxim has his dark, golden tattooed skin pressed against my creamy white. It looks

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like danger lies against me, and I shiver with anticipation. This man is oozes danger, he is scary, and he is all mine. I rip the bra off my body and send it flying as Maxim lifts me to rest my ass against the countertop’s edge. I automatically spread my legs in sudden impatience. “What do you want, Haleigh?” he murmurs, a faint smile on his lips. I can feel my body quaking, waiting and wanting whatever he wishes to offer. “You, Maxim, just you,” I whisper as I watch him strip the clothes from his body. My eyes take in all of his tattooed, muscular form, and my mouth waters. Every inch of him is fascinating. Maxim drops on his star adorned tattooed knees, tattoos I have just noticed in the brightly lit kitchen, and kisses the inside of my ankle, my thigh, and finally my core. His tongue slowly slides through my center,

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flicking against my clit and then sucking it deep. My hands fly to his hair and I wrap my fingers in the messy golden locks. Maxim’s tongue slides inside of my center and I spread my legs farther apart, scooting closer to the edge of the counter, trying to get as close to him as I can. I need so much more, want so much more. His hands wrap around my thighs as he devours me. His golden blond hair between my legs, his tattooed skin covering mine, and his devious tongue are all too much. I rock against his mouth as I come, screaming his name. “Gorgeous,” he whispers as he stands from the floor. He picks me up off the counter and turns me around; his hand is on my back, pushing my chest down onto the counter. “I am going to fuck you now, angel moy. It will be rough. If you cannot handle it, you must tell me, yes?”

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I moan my answer because I can’t find any words. My brain is too foggy with my recent climax and my current need. Maxim roughly grabs my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh as he holds me up so he can easily slide deep inside me from behind. His mouth is on my shoulder, kissing and then biting down hard. I cry out from the initial pain and shock, but something unfurls deep inside of me, and I find that I like it … a lot. I push back on his cock, feeling blood droplets slide down my back, making me wetter than I already am. Maxim hums as he pulls out and then roughly thrusts into me, my hipbones crashing against the counter as he pounds into my center. His hand slides up my back and around my neck as he continues to pound deep, and hard, inside of my body.

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“Stay calm, Haleigh. Fuck, you feel so damn good,” he growls as his grip on my neck tightens. I feel my airway restricting. My heart begins racing and I start to panic. Then I hear Maxim murmuring for me to be calm and I let go. I relax my body as he slams inside of me, harder than before. I try to cry out, but my voice is gone. Maxim’s grip is firm around my neck, as his other hand slides to my clit. He begins to furiously rub circles against the sensitive nub, drawing me even closer toward my climax. “Come, fucking come, Haleigh,” he bellows, pushing me over the edge. I come—my body spasming around him, shaking uncontrollably with the most intense climax I have had. He then stills, his hand twitching on my throat before he finally releases it. His heavy body drapes over mine, trapping me against the once cold

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countertop that is now hot and wet from my sweaty body. “Such a good girl for me,” he whispers in my ear as he slowly slides his cock out of me. My body slumps. My legs are complete Jell-O. Maxim lifts me in his strong, capable arms and carries me to bed, his face nuzzling my neck the entire way. “Sleep, angel moy. Such a good wife, such a good girl,” he mutters as my eyes close. I fall into an immediate deep sleep.

THE NEXT MORNING, I stretch and roll over to find Maxim’s side of the bed is empty. I almost panic, but then realize he must have already gone to work for the day. I take my cell phone from the bedside table, and am surprised to see that it is much later than I had initially realized. It is already ten in the morning. I should be up and doing things, but I find that I am feeling lazy and

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sore—deliciously sore. My phone starts to buzz in my hand. I answer with a sleepy hello. “Are you asleep still?” Maxim’s gruff voice barks. A few weeks ago, I would have cowered at his tone, but I know now that it is his business voice. “You wore me out last night, baby,” I whisper the last word, trying it on to see if I like it. “Say it again,” Maxim growls. “Baby,” I say before I hear him grunt. “I like that. You call me that now, yes?” he orders. I smile widely, even though nobody can see me, telling him yes. “I work late tonight, angel moy. Do not wait for me. I will eat out, so do not make me dinner,” he says. I try to swallow the insecurity, the fear that it is not really work he’s going to but another woman.

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“All right, Maxim. I’ll see you later sometime then?” I can’t help the way my voice weakens as the tears begin to gather in my eyes. “It is only work, Haleigh, I swear this to you. Just work.” He tries to reassure me, but I just nod as if he can see me. Brightly, I tell him to have a great day. “Have a good day, golubushka,” he whispers, hanging up before I can say another word. I am glad; who knows what kind of crazy I would come up with if he were on the phone a second longer. I spend the day trying not to think about what Maxim is doing tonight. Will he go to Catia? Will he go to somebody else? By the end of the day, the house is perfectly clean and I have paced the living room and kitchen about a hundred times. I glance at the clock every ten minutes after nine

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o’clock hits wondering where he is and what he is doing, or who? I talk myself out of him being with anybody just as quickly as I talk myself into him being with everybody. I pick up the phone fifteen times to talk to Sonia, but I end up putting it down before I dial her number. I feel stupid. Suddenly, there is a knock on the door and I rush to open it. My breath is stolen from my body by the person standing in the doorway. Amelia Stockhardt My mother whooshes right past me and into the living room without a single word, as if she owns the place—like she has every right to just walk into Maxim’s home. My home. I don’t know why she is here, and I don’t care. She hasn’t tried to contact me once since I have married Maxim. “How can I help you, Mother?” I ask, my voice like ice.

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“This home is nice, Haleigh. Too nice for you,” she states. I suddenly wish I had slammed the door in her face. She is a horrible person. Instead, I don’t say a word. “I don’t see any visible bruising, so I assume he isn’t hitting you too hard, then,” she quips. My eyes widen, and I just stare at her. Dumbfounded. “Maxim does not hit me, mother,” I say softly, my hand going to my throat to caress the delicate skin there. Not that he choked me that hard, but the skin is still a bit tender. “What does he do? Chain you up and fuck you like the purchased piece of meat that you are?” she asks, arching a perfect brow at me. My mouth gapes, and I can’t speak. I can’t do anything but stare at her in complete surprise. “You do know that we sold you, don’t you? He owns you, Haleigh, so you had better not piss him off. He can get rid of you the

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moment you do,” she announces, her eyes taking in a full scan of my body. “Mother …” It’s the only thing I can say because I am at a complete loss for words. I was not under the impression that Maxim saw me one day and just had to have me; I knew there was some kind of deal made but sold? “You look fat, Haleigh. You need to dance more and eat less or he really won’t want to keep you,” she continues, tapping her foot as if she is impatient about ... something. I close my eyes and ball my hands into fists before I speak. “You need to leave my home,” I say sternly. She cocks her head to the side and then smirks. “Silly girl, this will never be your house. This is Maxim’s, and by the looks of it, business is good for him. Maybe I’ll get rid of you myself and slide on into your place. I’m sure he’d appreciate a real woman who knows

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how to please her man,” she says with zero emotion to her voice and smirk placed on her lips. I step closer to her so I don’t scream or cry—or do both. “Go. You are not welcome in my home,” I say. My voice is as low and lethal as I can possibly make it. I don’t see it before it happens, but suddenly, I feel a thumping pain in my cheek. My mother has slapped me. I cup my face and turn my head back around to face her. “You’ll do well to remember your place, Haleigh. You are nothing but property. He owns you. What you feel for him is some fucked-up illusion, some fucked-up game, and he’s playing with your mind. Make no mistake, little girl, your life is in his hands,” she announces, smiling widely. I shake my head and she smiles even wider. She then takes my hair in her hand and pulls my head down so fast, I can’t even brace myself for the fall onto the spotless

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travertine flooring— flooring I spent well over two hours cleaning today. She lifts her foot before stomping onto my stomach with her sharp high heel, and then repeats the motion five more times on various parts of my torso. I can do nothing but moan every time she kicks or stomps on a part of my body. “Remember, Haleigh, you are nothing. You have always been nothing, and you will always be nothing. You are nothing but a bartering chip in this life, and you are nothing but property,” she informs me. My eyes are swollen from the combination of her kicks and my tears, but I watch as her foot goes back and then, all of a sudden, she is gone. “Dimitri, hold this bitch.” I hear a booming voice from somewhere in the distance and then I see my Maxim crouched down, his beautiful golden hair right in front of me, his handsome scared face in my sights.

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I sigh at the sight of him. “Baby,” I whisper slowly, lifting my arm to cup his cheek. “The doctor is coming, Haleigh. I will kill her. I will kill her right here in front of you. I will watch her bleed like she has made you bleed.” His voice is fading and I close my eyes, letting sleep take me. I can’t seem to keep my eyes open a moment longer.

I turn my head to Dimitri, who is holding the very beautiful but very cold and extremely stupid mother of my wife—my mother-inlaw. She sneers at me for a beat before she

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smiles. It is kind of scary, and I am never scared. I am the one who scares others. “Maxim,” she purrs. I know that tone. I have fucked many a woman who have used it; not because I liked them but because I knew they would spread their thighs. “You hurt my woman? My wife? For what reason?” I can’t even voice her fucking name. In fact, words are becoming very difficult and my gun and knife are looking mighty nice at the moment. My fingers twitch and ache to pull out a weapon and show this bitch exactly what the fucking devil looks like. “Why did you want her? You aren’t beating her, that I could tell. I hurt her because she thought she could have a smart mouth with me, and I had to teach the little bitch a lesson,” she hisses. I don’t think—I do. I punch the bitch in the face. I punch her as hard as I would

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punch any man and it is fairly satisfying. I watch her look of surprise right before her head lolls to the side. Stupid bitch. “Call her husband to come and collect her. Let me know when he is here and tie them up in my office. Someone will pay for Haleigh’s bruises and blood,” I tell Dimitri in Russian. If that bitch is conscious, she won’t know what I have said. Dimitri flashes me a small smile and nods. “Haleigh did not deserve one bruise on her body, you know this,” he announces. I shake my head at my driver, my right-hand man, and my only friend. “I know this. That is why these fuckers pay, friend,” I say, pointing at the passed out cunt in his grip. Dimitri nods and then hustles away to do what I have asked of him. I gather my

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beautiful—beaten wife—in my arms and take her upstairs to wait for the doctor. I pick up the phone, calling Pasha and Sonia. I ask them to come to the house and explain briefly what has happened. I know that by the time they get here, the doctor will most likely be finished with his assessment of Haleigh’s injuries. Then I will know how to handle her sorry excuse of a mother. A knock on the main door interrupts my staring contest with Haleigh’s too still body, and I wrench it open to see the doctor standing right in front of me. “Dr. Utkin,” I grumble. He nods silently, following me with his big medical bag in hand. “I came home this evening and my wife had been attacked.” My eyes meet his and he nods without words, but I can see that he does not believe me. It wouldn’t be the first time that one of us had beaten our women and then called

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him. I cannot blame him for thinking the worst. Dr. Utkin is one of us. I know that whatever happens behind closed doors will stay with him until death. He carries the same stars on his knees that I do, stars that dictate we will never fall on our knees for the authorities. Though, his body is not riddled with as many tattoos telling the horrible stories of his life the way mine does. Nevertheless, he does have his fair share. “She is in here,” I motion. He walks directly to the bedside. “Have you moved her?” he barks in Russian. I answer him that, yes, I did—from the living room, where I found her, to here. I watch as he begins to poke around my wife’s beautiful body and all I want to do is rip his fucking hands off just for touching what is mine. She is mine.

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“I do not sense any broken bones, Mr. Lasovska.” His hands go toward the inside of her thighs, and my own ball into fists. “Has she been violated; do you think?” he asks. “No,” I growl. “I want to do an ultrasound of her stomach, just to make sure that she does not have any internal damage. Her stomach is bruising quickly, and I don’t like the way it looks,” he informs. I swallow thickly, nodding. There is a presence at the door, and I turn slightly to see Sonia making her way inside. “Oh, Maxim,” Sonia cries, throwing herself at me. I have no choice but to embrace the woman. I don’t like hugs, but Sonia is the closest thing I have to a mother, and I will never turn down affection from her. “Who did this?” Pasha barks. I shake my head.

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“Sonia, you stay with Haleigh and the doctor. Pasha and I have business.” Sonia’s eyes go wide, and she nods in understanding. Sonia knows that the business I mean is not for financial gain but for retribution; and, Christ, but the woman smiles, liking the idea of whoever has done this to my beautiful little dove being taken out. If I wasn’t so worried, I might smile back at her, but I don’t. Pasha and I walk downstairs just as Dimitri is walking in with Haleigh’s father in front of him, his hands bound and his mouth gagged. He looks at me and his eyes widen before they begin to form tears—pussy. “Her father?” Pasha asks in English. There is no reason to bring him here hooded or to speak in a language he will not understand. He will never leave this place—not alive anyway. I motion for Dimitri and Pasha to follow me into my office, where the cunt is bound, gagged, and tied to a chair. Her eyes scan the

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room in a panic. I want to laugh in her face—stupid bitch. “Please, Mr. Stockhardt, join our little meeting.” I lean my hip against the front of my desk as Dimitri shoves the dickless bastard into the chair next to his cunt wife, Amelia. I motion for Dimitri to remove their gags and am met with wide, fake as shit, doe eyes from the wife. The husband is shaking, and I wonder when exactly he will piss himself because a man this spineless always pisses himself. “Do you know why you are here, Joseph?” I ask. His eyes slide to his wife’s before they narrow and his mouth pinches together. My own eyes scan these people, two selfabsorbed pieces of shit. I wonder how in the fuck they made that beautiful creature who is upstairs beaten and battered. How did she turn out so fucking sweet and innocent?

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“You don’t do a very good job of controlling your bitch, Joseph. She came over here and hurt my wife—your daughter. I do not know the extent of the damage she has done, but her body is broken, bruised, and bloodied. I will not tolerate it,” I calmly state before I continue, lowering my voice, “you will both die.” Amelia looks at me and begins to plead for her life. “I’ll do whatever you want,” she begs. “Fuck me any way you want, however you want. I don’t care, just don’t kill me,” she begs again. I throw back my head and laugh at her piss-poor attempts to persuade me. “I don’t want to fuck you, Amelia,” I bark, watching as she pales before her devious eyes meet mine. “I am a woman, Maxim. A woman who knows how to please a man—even a monster like you. Fuck my ass, fuck my face, fuck my cunt. I’ll do whatever you want and you’ll

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fucking love it,” she offers, smiling as if her offer means anything to me. My shoulders shake with my laughter. Pasha is looking at her with complete disgust. It isn’t the first time a woman has offered herself as a sex toy before she is dealt with. I’ve taken a few up on their propositions before I have killed them in the past. There is nothing like watching the hope flare before it is extinguished. I can be a sick bastard, this I know, but I feel zero temptation at this cunt’s proposal. I would never do that to Haleigh, especially not to this woman who has betrayed her. I meant it when I said there would be no other women. “Haleigh pleases me just fine, Amelia, and your stretched-out cunt and asshole are not tempting in the slightest,” I say, keeping my tone even and bored. I watch as she flinches and then I see her anger explode at my words.

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“How can I fix this?” Joseph asks, ignoring his wife’s whoring. I turn to him and pull my gun out of my waistband. The silencer is already attached. I don’t need to hear the blast to know that a man is dead. I point it right at the center of his forehead. I lean in to whisper to him. “You die.” I pull the trigger and watch as the man slumps down in his chair. His brains and skull explode behind him. I feel a bit dissatisfied at how easily he expired. No torture, no finesse, just a clean kill. It feels too respectful for the cunt-bitch that he is. Amelia begins to scream, but I cut her off by pointing the weapon at her head; she smartly shuts her trap. “I should torture you after what you did to my wife, you stupid fucking cunt,” I growl. I feel Pasha’s hand on my shoulder. Her eyes flick to him in hope that he might save her. I want to laugh. Little does she know,

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Pasha is the scariest fucker in the room—not me. “Cut her up before you kill her. She does not deserve to go so quickly,” he whispers as he puts her gag back in place. He walks back to the desk, perching on the edge to watch. Sick fuck. I do exactly as he says. I make slices and cuts all over her body, relishing in her muffled screams. I continue with deep gashes in her breasts, stomach, and thighs until her body goes limp. Then I slice her wrists before I slit her cunt throat. “Mr. Lasovska, I am finished,” the doctor calls from the other side of the door, as I finish wiping off my knife. I take in my body and notice in appreciation that I didn’t get too much blood on myself. I motion to Dimitri and quietly order him to clean up the mess; he smiles a wicked grin and nods. Pasha and I walk out of my office and are met by the doctor.

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“I have finished.” “Tell me of her injuries,” I encourage, trying to calm myself from the adrenaline of just killing and torturing my in-laws. “She is badly bruised, of course. No broken bones and no internal bleeding or injuries that I could tell. I was most concerned with her organs because of the high heel shoe marks on her torso. Luckily, I think she came out pretty unscathed. She will be extremely sore. I have given a bottle of pain medication to help. If she throws up excessively or seems out of it, call me back,” he says. I nod taking it all in. I feel relieved that she was not more seriously injured. I hand the doctor an envelope of cash and leave . He can let himself out of my home. I rush upstairs to see my wife—my Haleigh. Once I am upstairs, I burst into the bedroom and take note that Sonia is sitting on the bed, stroking Haleigh’s hair and singing

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an old Russian lullaby. My tongue is thick in my throat at the sight. I never had that. I never had a mother to hold me, to sing to me when I was ill, and I never knew I wanted it until this very moment. Haleigh did not have that type of mother either, it seems. We are two people who have not been loved by our families. I wonder how can we come together and have one of our own? Maybe this whole plan of mine, this whole obsession over my ballerina, has been a mistake? Should I let her go to find a man capable of loving her? I grind my teeth at the thought. I would kill anyone who dared to touch her. I proved that just a few moments ago. Pasha walks up behind me and places his hand on my shoulder, giving me a gentle squeeze before he speaks. “She will be all right, Maks. You will help her, and you will protect her. Do not beat

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yourself up for this. Shit happens. I have never seen you as complete as I have the past couple of weeks. This life you have begun with her by your side will be a good one. As long as you stick together, you will come out of it with beauty you never knew existed,” Pasha says softly—as if he can read my thoughts. As well as my mentor knows me, he probably can. I nod and walk closer to the bed, closer to Sonia and my poor bruised wife. “Take care of her, Maks. I know you will. The doctor injected her with pain medicine before he left, but she is to have these pills every four hours,” Sonia instructs softly before wrapping her small hand around my bicep, giving it a light squeeze. She walks out with Pasha at her side, leaving me alone with Haleigh. I sit down on the white chair she had delivered just this morning, and I watch her

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chest slowly rise and fall. Everything comes crashing down as my adrenaline fades. I have killed her parents. Granted, her mother tried to hurt her, maybe even kill her, but is what I have done to them unforgivable in her eyes? I have never cared about taking another human’s life in the past, especially if warranted. I was going by eye for an eye with her parents, but was I too hasty in my decision? They harmed what was mine, and I took action without thinking about how Haleigh would feel. I don’t think I can go on in this life if she hates me. Will she hate me? I despise the fact that I do not know her well enough to gauge her reactions. “Maxim.” I hear faintly from somewhere. My head jerks up to see Haleigh’s green eyes focused

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on me. I fall to my knees at her side and brush the hair back from her beautiful face. “Angel moy,” I whisper harshly. I can almost feel tears gathering in my eyes. If I knew how to cry, I think I would right here and now. “My …” I put my finger over her lips. “I know. You never have to worry about her coming here again,” I say, leaving out the fact that they are dead, so it is impossible. Haleigh nods and I give her some more pain pills. “Tell me how to help you,” I murmur to her, my knuckles lightly running over her bruised cheek. “Just hold me, baby,” she mutters. I crawl into the bed next to her, my tiny little wife, and I hold her. I kiss the side of her neck, comforting her until she falls back asleep in my arms. Where she is forever meant to be.

THE SUN FEELS DELICIOUS against my skin. It is the first time Maxim has allowed me to venture outside since my mother's brutal attack. I am relishing in the warmth of the sun’s rays beaming down on my body. I am in a little turquoise bikini and a big floppy hat, sitting next to the swimming pool, eating a bowl of grapes and drinking a bottle of water.

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I feel like I should be on a poster advertisement or something. It has been two weeks since my mother showed up and assaulted me, beat me, and stomped on me like I was nothing. Two weeks since she told me, essentially, that she and my father sold me to Maxim. I haven’t brought up the conversation to him, how she said he owned me, because deep down, I have always known it. Maybe she thought she was shocking me by telling me such things. I have been under no illusions that this marriage was anything but an arrangement. A financial arrangement. Though I have never known the details, I have always known the truth. I am not as stupid as my mother claims. I watched my parents’ once extremely lavish lifestyle slowly dwindle, and I saw how worried my father was becoming, losing weight and gaining dark circles under his eyes. My mother who never wore clothes a

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season behind started doing just that; nothing new was coming into the home and then suddenly when my marriage was announced, they magically had money to throw around. It was all so obvious—to me, at least. Maxim is controlling and possessive, but he isn’t cruel and he doesn’t hurt me. He can be so kind and gentle; if he does own me, then I am glad. My life could have turned out so much worse. “You’ll get burned, golubushka,” Maxim announces from the doorway. I turn slightly to see that he has a smirk on his lips. I look down at my stomach and legs. I have one hundred proof sunblock on, but the bruises on my skin are that yellowish color and I was hoping the sun would help fade them a bit. “I thought you were working,” I ask, taking a sip of water. Maxim slowly walks toward me, his big body effortlessly moving in a way that

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mesmerizes me. When he stands next to me, his knee nudges my shoulder and he grunts. I figure this is some man language for move, so I slide up as he straddles the chair behind me pulling my back against his chest. Aside from lying next to each other in bed, this is as close as we have been, physically. Maxim has refused to touch me until my body has healed completely. It is completely frustrating. “I come home to see my wife. I hate leaving you alone all day,” he murmurs, his voice deep and rough. I feel his full lips on my shoulder as he places a soft kiss on my warm skin. I shiver as his hands travel down my arms to rest on my outer thighs. I remove my hat and take a chance by lightly kissing the side of his neck. “I have missed you, Maxim,” I whisper against his cool skin. Maxim’s fingers twitch on my thighs, and I feel one of his hands sliding up my

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belly and into the small triangle of my top. One of his fingers lazily circles around my nipple, making me arch my back in search of more. I always want more when it comes to my Maxim. “Angel moy, I have missed you so very much. How are you feeling?” I want to tell him that I’m feeling horny, but I don’t think I could ever say those words to him; I would probably die of embarrassment. “Much better. The sun feels fantastic,” I whisper breathlessly as his other hand slides toward the juncture of my thighs—so close to my center but not close enough. “You have put on some weight. You look fantastic,” he groans in my ear as his hands simultaneously grab my flesh roughly, causing my body to break out in goosebumps. I cry out from the pleasure of his touch. “Maxim, please,” I beg.

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I feel his body rumble beneath me as his hand finally slides between my legs. From the front of my bikini, his finger drags down my center. I whimper at the feeling of his warm digit touching me. “Wet already, golubushka,” he observes. I press my lips to his neck and lightly lick his skin, tasting the salty spice that is Maxim. I am wet. I have been watching him care for me for days, wanting him, needing him as I have never needed anything in my life. Maxim’s finger slams inside of me, and my back bows at the suddenly full feeling. I moan. He continues to pump his finger in and out of me, pausing his rhythm to swirl his slick finger around my clit before sliding it back inside of me again. All the while, his other hand pinches and pulls my nipples. “Fuck. Get on your knees. I can’t wait,” he mutters. I do exactly as I’m told because I

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want him so badly my body is shaking with need. On my knees, on the lounger, I wait for him. I listen as his belt clinks against the concrete, my body humming with anticipation. The rustling of his clothing fills the air. A slight breeze blows as Maxim releases the ties of my bikini bottoms and then the top, letting the scraps of fabric fall where they may. One of his hands slides down my spine, then through the crack of my ass, and I push back into him. “I want this ass, Haleigh. Fuck, you look so perfect like this—the sun shining on your blonde hair, your ass in my face, and your pussy gleaming with your need,” he practically purrs, slowly sliding himself inside me. I moan at the way he fills me, always with a bit of pain when he is all the way inside. I love it. Maxim gives me pain, but he

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also gives me more pleasure than I ever imagined possible. “Baby,” I whisper as his hand slides around my neck. I sigh at the feeling of his warmth surrounding me as he thrusts in and out of my center. Maxim’s hand twitches at my throat, ceasing my intake of air as he roughly takes me from behind. He releases my throat and allows me to breathe for a beat or two before he continues with the process all over again. My heart is pounding in my chest, the adrenaline coursing through my body. I relax, taking what he gives me—his hard, fast thrusts and his firm hand. Being wrapped up in him and having him wrapped up around me … nothing could be better than this moment. “I feel your pussy, baby. Come all over me, Haleigh. Squeeze my cock like only you can,” he moans, the grip on my throat tightening at the same time as my pulsing pussy.

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I try to scream, but nothing comes out of my mouth. Maxim is thrusting so hard into my pussy, one foot flat on the concrete, the other leg pressing against my outer thigh. He has one hand wrapped around my hip and the other around my throat. I feel his hips still behind me once my orgasm has started to leave me in a giant pile of jelly. Then I feel him come deep inside. His warm cum filling me so full, it sparks a something inside of me—a rush of need and want. “I love it when you come inside of me, Maxim. It feels so good baby,” I whisper with a raspy voice. Maxim is still inside of me, his cock twitching as his lips brush my shoulder. “I love filling you with my seed, angel moy. Come inside, you take nap now,” he orders huskily. I moan, unable to move my limp and lazy body. Maxim chuckles behind me as he pulls his pants up hips before picking me up

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and carrying me, completely nude, to our bedroom. “Tomorrow night we have a dinner party. Since you’re feeling better, I will RSVP.” His voice is tender, soft even, as he tucks the sheets around my bare body. “Do I need to take anything to this party?” I yawn, unable to keep my eyes open as I listen for the answer. “No, it’s business, not so much pleasure, golubushka.” I mumble something unintelligible as sleep takes over. “Ti ochen nuzhna mne – I need you so much,” he whispers before he walks out the door.

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The dinner party is as Maxim said—business not pleasure. I am standing in a private room of some fancy restaurant wearing a short, all lace, hot pink dress. The dress has a nude tube dress slip as the lining; then over the top is a sheer lace overlay with long sleeves. It basically looks like I am completely nude under the lace, making me slightly uncomfortable. Maxim picked it out of my closet, and I would do anything to make that man happy, so here I am. On my feet is a pair of four-and-a-halfinch Louboutin glitter high heels. A diamond tennis bracelet from Tiffany’s is on my wrist along with matching diamond earring studs—gifts that Maxim slipped into my palm just two hours ago after he took me hard against the closet door when he saw me in the dress. Maxim hasn’t stopped touching me all evening, and I am relishing in the closeness of him. The way he sweeps his thumb across

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my knuckles or the way his hand rests on my lower back or my hip. I practically purr when his hand tangles in the back of my hair to rest against the back of my neck. “Gregori, have you met my Haleigh yet?” Maxim has introduced me to so many men, all Russian names and all extremely difficult to remember and pronounce. I feel like my head is spinning out of control. My body is turned slightly and I hold in the gasp caught in my throat at the man before me. Maxim is gorgeous, beautiful even, but this man is out of this world. He is tall, his hips thin, but his upper body strong and solid. His jaw is chiseled perfectly, and he looks like he has been formed from stone. He is that perfect. His bright blue eyes meet mine and, coupled with his light blond hair, he is exquisiteness personified. He smirks and my knees wobble a bit. “The pleasure is all mine, paver mne, milaya moya.”

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Maxim growls next to me. While I have no clue what Gregori has said, I can only assume by Maxim’s growl and Gregori’s flirty smile that it was not something he should have said. “Calm down, Maxim. You can’t expect to introduce me to your gorgeous wife and for me not to comment or look. You are a lucky man, my friend,” he offers with a slap on Maxim’s shoulder. Maxim waves him off. “You get whatever woman you want. Stay away from mine,” he murmurs. Gregori throws his head back in jovial laughter. “I get bed warmers a plenty, you are correct. But a good woman in my bed? Never,” he whispers, his eyes never leaving mine. My own eyes widen at his words. Maxim pulls me closer to his body before he leans over and mutters something too low for me to hear. I watch as Gregori smirks and then full-out smiles at my Maxim’s words, whatever they were.

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“How had I not thought of this before? You amaze me, Maxim.” Gregori slaps Maxim on the back and then saunters off toward another group of people. “What did you say to him?” I ask, curious about the change of secret topic. “I told him the only way he could get a good girl like me was to get his head out of his pretty ass and stop looking for them in whore houses.” He shrugs as if this is normal conversation. My eyes bug out at the thought of that beautiful man paying for it when we could just walk into a bar and wink. I know panties would be flying in all directions. “Why would he go to those places? He’s too handsome to pay for it,” I accidentally blurt out. Maxim looks at me with raised eyebrows. “More handsome than your husband, Haleigh?” he asks. I bite my lip, shaking my head.

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“Not more handsome, Maxim. He is pretty, though,” I confess. Maxim raises an eyebrow at me again, and then grins wickedly. I don’t even know how to perceive that look. I have never seen that look. He looks deviously playful, and I don’t know what that means for me. Suddenly, I feel as if my head is spinning as Maxim grabs my hand. He pulls me away from the party and down a hallway. “Maxim,” I hiss, trying to pull out of his grasp. He is holding on to me firmly as he tugs on me. Then he steps into a room and pulls me inside, slamming the door behind him and pushing my back against the now closed door. “Maks,” I groan as his lips touch my neck, and I feel his hips grind into my stomach, his length hardening beneath his slacks. “Lift your skirt up your hips, angel moy,” he orders. I shiver at his words, and I open my mouth to protest.

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I mean we can’t do this here, can we? This is supposed to be a business dinner. “Nyet, Haleigh. Do as I say,” he barks. I jump, not unused to his barking commands, but nervous because this is not our home and we are not alone. I do as he says because he is looking at me as if he is ready to devour or spank me at any second. Maxim grabs my panties and rips them from my body, shredding the fabric. I hear the clink of his belt seconds before he thrusts his hard cock inside of me, filling me. He slams my back up against the door with the sheer force of his hips while my legs wrap around his thick waist. “Fuck.” His chest rumbles as my head falls back against the door. I accept his punishing thrusts, loving how he makes me feel, loving how I make him feel. Out of control – needy.

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“Baby,” I gasp when his hips grind hard into me, sending shots of heat through my veins. “Say it again, golubushka. Makes my cock harder,” he grunts. I cry out when he starts to piston in and out of me with so much force, I swear my body is going to break in half. I can feel his fingers digging into my ass as he holds me in the perfect position to feel every inch of him. “Baby,” I moan, my release on the edge, needing a little something extra to topple me over. Maxim rewards me, with that something I need, when I feel one of his hands leave my ass. His thumb presses against my bundle of nerves as his teeth sink into the side of my neck. I scream out in pleasure, unable to hold back, unable to care who hears me. Maxim thrusts into me wildly. His body is tense and taut, his face is set hard, his jaw

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clenched, and I just watch in awe as he uses me for his pleasure—I love it. As I always do. “Ti ochen nuzhna mne.” His body goes still and then he shudders as he fills me with his release. I accept it as I accept him, fully and without hesitation. “What does that mean, Maxim? You’ve said it more than once,” I ask, running my fingers through the back of his hair, lightly scraping his scalp as he breathes heavily into my neck, his cock softening but still inside of me. “It means I need you so much, angel moy,” he admits. I shiver at his words, and his blue eyes look up and crash with mine, sending my heart sputtering and my head spinning once again. I see what looks like love and adoration shimmering in his eyes. I lean down to press my lips to his softly before whispering that I need him too, so very much. Suddenly,

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there is a knock on the door and we both jump a bit. “If you are finished making every man in the room a jealous fuck, dinner is served,” Gregori barks from the other side of the door. I feel my face go completely scarlet. “Fuck off,” Maxim rumbles. I hear Gregori laughing from the other side of the door before his footsteps fade down the hall. “Maxim,” I begin. I am cut off, not just by the warning look he gives me, but also by the act of him pulling out of my body. “Go in that bathroom and clean up, angel moy. I wait here,” he orders. I just do as he says, my body shaking with nerves at what I am about to walk into. A whole room of people could have heard us, and Maxim is completely unconcerned. I feel sick and scared and overwhelmed all at the same time. I am also, suddenly, starving and starting a fight with Maxim is the last thing I

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want to do after that fantastic orgasm against the door. Maxim and I sit down at the table—me gently because my body is tender from the crazy amount of sex we have had since yesterday by the pool. I don’t mind it, though. The pain feels good. It reminds me of Maxim, and everything that reminds me of him makes me smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that many of the women are glaring at me every now and then, and it makes me uncomfortable—almost as uncomfortable as a few of the men’s gazes. Maxim is completely oblivious to the staring as he is deeply involved in a conversation with Pasha and Gregori. I wish that Sonia was here, but she is down with a cold and unable to make it. I don’t recognize any of the women from lunch. This is a whole new group. It is very lonely and unnerving that their attention is on me but angrily.

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We leave the party shortly after dinner. Maxim tells everybody he must be up early to a meeting in the morning. I am grateful because I couldn’t stand another second of lecherous or snobby looks from the men and women surrounding us. I am mortified that Maxim did that to me there, embarrassed me the way he did, with zero regard to how I would be treated. Though, isn’t that normal for me? Isn’t it typical of how I have always been treated? I am a pawn in this life; told what and how to do everything, expected to just do it, and quietly. I was under some kind of illusion if I thought Maxim had true feelings for me. My mother was right. I am his property to use as he sees fit until he is tired of me, then he will probably dispose of me. Why give him that opportunity?

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Why not just leave before I am dumped out in the country like some annoying dog you don’t want to take care of anymore? It is probably stupid, no, I know that it’s stupid, but I begin to formulate a plan. Maxim claims that he needs me, but he fucks me in the back room of a restaurant while everybody can hear, then he does nothing as everybody stares at me, judging me, and formulating opinions about me based on the fact that I fucked my husband in public. I feel like a cheap dirty whore, but isn’t that what I am? Maxim has bought me or accepted me as some kind of payment, whatever the case may be. I am nothing more than a possession, a whore to be used until I am no longer useful. When will he start to hand me over to those men who had been lusting after me? I may be naïve, but I am not stupid. I know cruelty in this world exists beyond anything I could fathom. Alone with Maxim, I feel safe

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and secure; but this evening, I felt something completely different. I felt vulnerable and weak. Maxim is confident in the fact I will not leave the house; and if I do, I am usually with Sonia or Dimitri. I know where the keys to all of his fancy cars are; although I know I don’t have a penny to my name and I can’t go to my parents’ house for help. It doesn’t matter. I would rather be living under a bridge in the city than feel like I am constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. Wondering if every disagreement will lead him to abandon me anyway. Wondering if I wake up one day and Maxim is just gone. I don’t want to be abandoned, so maybe I should be the one to leave him? Maybe this life would be easier if I were alone, with nobody to hurt me, use me, or ignore me? Do I really mean anything to him?

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I feel as though I am falling in love with him, but am I more than a shiny new toy for him to parade around? I want to be. I want to be everything to him. I want to mean as much to him as he means to me. Tonight, I did not feel like his cherished bride. Tonight, I felt like his whore. “You have been quiet since dinner, Haleigh. Tell me what is wrong,” Maxim asks as he unbuttons his perfectly tailored shirt. “Nothing,” I say softly, sliding the lace dress down my body, wearing only a bra, since Maxim shredded my panties. “Tell me, angel moy. I kill any person who makes you sad.” He hooks his arm around my waist and buries his face in my hair, inhaling my scent as he always does. “I’m fine, Maxim, really. I’m just tired,” I murmur as he places a kiss on my shoulder before grunting and turning toward the bed.

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I watch in fascination as he slides between the sheets completely nude. He always sleeps nude. I will miss him when I go; this easiness we have found. Farce or not, I do feel comfortable with him. His tattoos still amaze me. I still think they’re beautiful, even if he won’t tell me what they mean. I quickly slide my nightie over my head and join Maxim in bed. Before I can even begin to settle, he wraps his arm around my waist and brings my back to his chest, his breath hot on my neck. “You sleep. Whatever is wrong, it will be better in the morning. I know this,” he mutters, placing a gentle kiss on my shoulder. I sigh and close my eyes, praying for sleep to take me. As sleep slowly consumes me, I faintly wonder if my life will ever be better than it is right now? Will I ever be more than a pawn or property to anybody? More than a trophy?

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That answer seems bleak, and I am pretty positive it is a no. Could Maxim love me for more than what I can provide for him? Something pretty on his arm and a body to carry his children into the world? There have been glimpses of a more caring man, a man who could possibly fall in love with me, but I feel as though my hopes have been dashed. Every time I think he could truly love me, something is revealed, a new truth that shatters that dream.

I WATCH HER SLEEP in the early morning light. She is so beautiful, my tiny little ballerina, golubushka- my little dove. I have never loved any person in my life, except for perhaps Pasha. Even then, I know I must not truly love him because if he tried to come between my Haleigh and me … I would not hesitate to kill him.

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I think I might be in love. My chest aches every time I walk out of my front door and go to work. I know I must leave the country soon to complete a few jobs for Pasha, and I have been putting them off because I do not want to leave her behind. When her mother was abusing her, it was all I could do not to torture her longer than I had. I truly gave the cunt mercy. I brush the blonde hair away from Haleigh’s face and take a quiet moment to memorize her remarkably lovely features. I have never had something so delicate, fragile, and just plain pretty before in my life. She is the only good and clean thing I have ever possessed. Would she leave me if she knew how obsessed I was with her? She sure as fuck would probably try, but she would never get too far because I would find her. I will always find her. She is mine. Reluctantly, I leave her asleep and alone in bed. Every minute away from her feels like

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hours; every hour an eternity. I feel foolish and weak for wanting her so badly, for needing her. Pasha would probably take her from me if he knew just how badly I needed her just to function. She is my Achilles heel. Dimitri drives me to work like an old woman; he is so fucking slow. I spend the commute on my phone conducting business, annoyed that an escrow is being delayed on a warehouse I need. After I conclude my call, I close my eyes and think back to the night before and what could have happened to make her switch moods so suddenly. I fucked her in Casimir’s restaurant and then we went to eat dinner. I spent the whole evening talking to Gregori … ahh, that must be it. So golubushka was feeling neglected then? I can make that up to her. I can fix that. I pull out my phone and I order twelve dozen roses to be delivered to her, red of

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course. She will forgive me the second she sees them. “What would you like on the cards, sir?” the florist asks. I am immediately annoyed. Who in the fuck cares what’s on the cards? I run my fingers over my forehead and give her my best answer without ripping her head off. “I am sorry. Have dinner with me tonight. Be ready at seven. –M.” The tension from the morning leaves my body as Dimitri pulls toward my building. I step outside and practically collide with a woman. Taking a step back, my eyes meet Catia’s and I almost growl with annoyance. Why in the fuck is she outside of my building? “Maks,” she breathes, puffing out her big breasts, trying to entice me, no doubt. I am not blind. A fleeting thought about how good it always felt to fuck her tits crosses my mind, but only for a second. I

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have my sweet Haleigh now, all warm and asleep at home. I promised her there would not be another woman in my bed. “Catia.” “I miss you so much. I have been so lost without you these past weeks.” Catia begins to cry, but she must realize her tears do not affect me. Tears, in general, do not affect me—except for Haleigh’s tears. They gut me. That thought is frightening; that something as trivial as her tears brings me to my knees. “I am married man now, Catia, devoted to my wife,” I announce coolly. She sucks in a breath, nodding. “I would have been a good wife to you, Maks. The best of everything for you,” she whispers. My eyes cut to hers. I don’t see the calculating wheels turning as in the past; she looks genuine. “You need to move on. I love my wife,” I admit.

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Catia gasps and her mouth makes an O shape at my declaration of love. I should not have said it the first time to her. I should have waited to tell Haleigh first before telling the world, but I can no longer hold it in. I love Haleigh Lasovska, my wife. The feeling is foreign, but I like it. The workday escapes me. I have many meetings on and off the books. Men who do not know how to control their impulses and owe me much money. They will pay one way or another. Today was warning day. Next week, we start breaking things. I grin as that is my favorite part of my off the books job—the violence. I need it to function, to escape my mind. I haven’t needed it as much since I have had my sweet wife by my side, but a raw part of me still needs to take out my anger violently. My on the books business is acquiring properties for Pasha and investing in them so we can trade guns without as much worry.

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Our own supply, our own warehouses, our own men under our employ. Keeping everything close and wrapped up tight. I look up to see Dimitri is at my office door, asking if I am ready to go home, as it is past nine in the evening. How could I have worked so hard? How could I have lost track of the time of the day this way? “Shall we, Maxim?” he asks. I nod. I shut off all of my electronics, lock all of my drawers, and double-check my safe. I lock the office door behind me—you can never be too safe these days. Even if there is nothing of Bratva importance in my office, I still don’t need people snooping. “Did Haleigh contact you today at all?” I ask. I usually find time to contact her a few times a day, but today honestly got away from me. I know if I am busy, she will contact Dimitri if she needs anything.

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“No,” he says. Dimitri is cold to me. This never happens, and it confuses me. “What is wrong, friend?” I ask. Dimitri really is my friend; I have known him for years, and he has been nothing but loyal. “I should not say, but I will. You did not treat her right at that dinner. You lacked respect for your wife,” he informs me. I am shocked, taken aback by his angry words. “What, because I did not engage in conversation during the meal? How do you know any of this, anyway?” “This has nothing to do with ignoring her. You fuck her in that room, where everybody can hear her moans and screams. Then you parade her around in front of your associates and their wives. The men ogled her all evening, the women gave her disgusted looks, and you were too busy being oblivious to notice,” he growls. I notice that Dimitri’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel; he is gripping it so tightly.

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“How do you know these things?” I bark. I am angry now—angry with Dimitri, but angry with myself as well. “I met with Alexi this afternoon to talk about possible shipment of new product, better product, and expansion. He asked me if your wife is available for fucking, if you share.” I see nothing but red. My vision is completely blocked, and I roar my anger. “I hoped that was how you would feel, so I warned him off her. But Maxim, he will not be the only one to ask that question. Everybody knows how you obtained her and then you fucking her like that for the entire party to hear? Makes them think you do not care about her, that you only possess her,” he points out. He makes so much sense. How could I not have thought through that moment?

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I rake my hands through my hair and pull on the strands, hard. I have ruined it all with my fucking hormones. “That was why she was angry with me,” I point out the obvious, and Dimitri snorts. “Why didn’t she tell me? She didn’t hesitate to tell me to stop fucking Catia and every other woman on earth, so why didn’t she yell at me about this?” “She wasn’t mad?” he asks. I shake my head. “I asked her and she said nothing was wrong, that she was fine, so we went to sleep,” I say with a shrug. Dimitri throws back his head and laughs. I want to slice his throat. “You have much to learn, Maxim. When a woman says that she is fine, she never is,” he says with a stupid fucking grin on his face. I rub my forehead again and try to calm myself. We are getting close to home, and I

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need to be kind and gentle or she is going to become angrier. “That is stupid,” I reply as Dimitri pulls up to the house. “Well … yeah,” he confirms. I wave him off as I climb the steps. I stand at the front door and freeze—something is off. The roses I purchased for Haleigh are just sitting in their vase on the front porch – untouched. I can feel it hanging around in the air, thick and evil. I know evil, I am evil, but it isn’t me who I sense. It is something different. Sirens are going off inside my head. I need to find out what has happened inside of my home. I am fucking terrified. I lift my hand to Dimitri in a signal that all is not right inside. I hear his shoes crunching on the gravel driveway as he walks up behind me, my backup. I slip my gun out of my shoulder holster and wait for Dimitri

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to do the same. I hold it out in front of me before I open the front door. I am immediately assaulted by the smell of soured milk. My eyes flick over to Dimitri, who smells it too, judging by the way his nose turns up. I walk into the kitchen and suck in a breath of air. Somebody has taken the milk jugs and emptied it all over the kitchen, along with every single item of food we own from the refrigerator and the pantry. It is a disaster. “Haleigh,” I whisper to Dimitri in horror. We immediately run upstairs to the bedroom. It is so dark in this house, I can only hope that Haleigh is asleep up in bed—she has to be asleep in bed. I wonder where my fucking staff is? I have men around this house most of the day, in and out, checking things, doing things. Though, lately, I have not had nearly as many as I have in the past. I have not wanted the men around my beautiful wife

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day in and day out. Still, there should be a few people milling around the grounds, minimum. Where in the fuck are they? I can tell just by the feeling in the room—the empty feeling—that she is not here. My heart hammers in my chest so hard I think it might explode out of my body. Somebody has taken my Haleigh, golubushka. They will pay. I will torture every single one of them, whoever they are, but unfortunately, none of them will bring Haleigh back into my arms. “The fuck, Maxim?” Dimitri asks. I look back to see him holding a note with a pair of ripped panties—Haleigh’s ripped panties—attached. “What does it say?” I croak, unable to take my eyes off her gorgeous black lace thong.

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“You get cocky with your new pussy and now it belongs to us.” Dimitri sounds confused, but I am not. I never thought that they would follow through; in all honesty, I had forgotten about the whole deal. I had made it so many years ago. I go to the bathroom and I throw up. They have her. How will I ever get her back now? “What is all of this, Maxim?” Dimitri demands. I close my eyes, hoping it will all go away, but I know that it won’t. Now, I have to try to save my little dove, my Haleigh, before they hurt her or kill her. “Call Pasha. Tell him to put guards on Sonia and tell him they have come and they have taken Haleigh.” Dimitri pulls out his phone and tells Pasha exactly what I have instructed him to, verbatim. I know Pasha is probably scrambling around like a madman at this exact moment.

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I leave the room and walk into my office. Once I sit down, I allow myself to fall apart. I only allow this for a moment, only a moment, because I will not be able to when Pasha arrives. “Maxim, tell me what the fuck is happening?” Dimitri demands. He has every right to be confused. For somebody who knows everything about me, he knows nothing of this, and he knows nothing of my true past. “Pull the surveillance tapes and when Pasha arrives, I tell you,” I tell him in Russian. My mind is too far gone to even try to speak English at the moment. Dimitri does as I ask, and I hold my head in my hands and cry like a pussy. I am a pussy. My woman has been taken and it is all my fault. They are right; I was being too cocky, and I got sloppy. “How in the fuck did you not take care of this years ago, Maxim?” Pasha screams. His

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face is so red; it looks like it is going to pop off his shoulders. “I have not received a message for so long, Pasha, I thought they forgot,” I shrug, the motion jerky and not convincing. “They never forget, Maxim,” he says, his voice low and deep. I nod because I knew this. I know this, and I was just being cocky. “The surveillance is ready,” Dimitri says, nodding at Pasha. I stand, walking down to the basement where three computer screens are set up and ready. I sit down and press play on my bedroom camera. I watch myself lean down and kiss my beautiful Haleigh on the cheek before leaving for work. She is in a sexy little nightie and wrapped in the blankets of our bed. I want to make Pasha and Dimitri turn away, but I will need their eyes. I fast forward an hour and watch as Haleigh wakes up

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and then she looks around, her shoulders slumping. She showers and changes into shorts and a tank top, her blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. I hate it. She walks into her closet and appears with a suitcase. “What the fuck?” I ask nobody in particular. Haleigh turns and faces the camera. That is when I see that she is crying, hard. My heart breaks. I have done this to her. I have made her cry. What an ass I am. I watch in silence as her body shakes with sobs while she packs a suitcase to leave me. Once her bag is zipped, she sits on the bed and cries for a few more moments. Then, all of a sudden, she wraps her hand around her stomach and runs to the bathroom. I can only guess that she has made herself sick. She returns and rubs her stomach for a moment. I watch as she opens the suitcase and unpacks everything she had packed. Hope

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flares inside of me. She changed her mind. Once the last item is unpacked, she puts the suitcase away and walks down to the kitchen. Haleigh is pouring herself a glass of milk when I see a figure in all black come up behind her. I grit my teeth as he wraps his hand around her mouth. I watch in horror as he injects something into her neck. Her body slumps, and I know the drugs have taken over. The dark figure turns around and looks right into the camera; his covered face conceals his identity. His dark eyes are smiling as his hand slides down Haleigh’s limp body. I growl when his hand goes down the front of her shorts and he touches her. Touches my pussy. My woman. My fucking wife. His hand only lingers a moment before he brings it back out and fucking waves. He

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fucking waves at the camera, then they are gone. I don’t say a word as I switch to the outside camera to find him loading her into the backseat of a black Range Rover with missing plates. The driver holds his hand out of the window as the man who took my wife slides into the passenger seat and they speed down my driveway. “Explain,” Dimitri barks once the video is finished. I sigh and Pasha narrows his eyes at me. “Dimitri is your security, and he knows not of this, of them?” Pasha asks, his eyes cold and dead on me. I deserve it. I push my chair back and stand. “I told you, Pasha. I thought it was finished. I thought they were done with me.” I look at Dimitri and then I decide to tell him all of it, all of the dirty, gritty, fucking bullshit that I did as a kid. The promises I made to save myself.

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The commitments I did not think about at the time. The harsh reality that what I have done could forever haunt my sweet wife, my Haleigh.

MY STOMACH ROILS, BUT I can’t seem to move. I want to curl into a ball from the pain. I can’t move my arms or my legs at all; my body feels so heavy. I slowly open my eyes and am met with a gray wall—a block wall. I moan, trying to move, but I can’t. I try to roll my head to the side, but my neck muscles won’t move either. All I can do is stare straight ahead of me.

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“She wakes,” a thick Russian accent whispers. He is suddenly right in front of me, crouched, his dark eyes focused on mine. “You will feel heavy from the drugs I administered. Slowly, you will regain your faculties and then the real fun will begin, blyad,” he growls. That word confuses me. I have never heard it before. Maxim uses some Russian with me, but not very much at all, and he’s never used that word before. “Your Maxim has not taught you the word?” He pauses and then smiles. It is creepy. “Blyad, it means whore. That is what you are, you know this, correct?” I close my eyes tightly, trying not to let the tears that are building fall. “Yes, I suppose you know this by now. However, it seems as though Maxim likes to keep you for himself.” He chuckles before he tsks and shakes his head slightly then he continues.

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“We have been watching you, vlagalische—cunt—I know you are with child, and I cannot wait to rip the baby from you, to raise more soldiers.” He smiles, but it looks just plain evil. I gasp at his words, but he just laughs. Just today, I thought I could be pregnant. I have been so tired and then I started throwing up. That was why I unpacked my bags. I needed to know for sure before I left Maxim. I would never keep a child from its father. I couldn’t. A man deserves to know if he is a father. Plus, I had some false hope that a baby would keep Maxim from doing something, like getting rid of me. “Maxim has been cocky. He must have thought that I would not keep my eye out for him. I always watch. Maxim bargained his first born when he was but a child, and if it is a boy, he will be our soldier for the army. But if it is a girl, a new blyad to breed for us. If she is lucky to be pretty like you, then maybe

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I sell her as a virgin to the highest bidder.” He chuckles and I finally speak. “Maxim will never allow this. He will find me,” I croak, my voice hoarse and weak. The man laughs, his perfectly straight teeth and strong jaw making me ill to look at—he is so handsome and so evil, a true handsome devil. “Maxim was one of the children taken from his mother’s womb, sold to us by his parents who were too busy shoving blow up their noses to give a fuck what happened to their baby,” he informs me. I ask him how, but he shakes his head. I watch helplessly as a needle is brought to my neck and I slowly fall into darkness again. Distorted visions of Maxim as a crying baby flitter through my mind along with images of my own child being ripped from my body. It makes me feel empty, anxious, and betrayed.

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How could Maxim have hidden this from me? I know the answer to that … I don’t want to know the answer, but I do know it. My father owed him something and I was his payment—nothing more than property and a uterus to pay back this sadistic bastard for the debt he owed him. I know that I will never survive this. Once they have ripped this baby from me, they will either kill me or use me in ways I cannot even imagine. Maxim will live his life and fall in love with the person he truly wants to be with and I will be nothing but a fleeting thought. A woman who once shared his bed and his body. I am nothing but a means to an end, a way for Maxim to finally live happy with whoever he chooses. I always wondered why a man as handsome and seemingly powerful as Maxim would essentially accept a bride as payment for a debt.

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Now, I know the truth. He never intended to keep me. Inside I am dying. My heart is shattering, and my soul is ripping to shreds. No matter how badly he hurt me, I had already felt so much for him. I was falling in love with him. I was already in love with him, or at least I thought I was. Perhaps it is only the illusion of him? “Wake up,” a harsh woman barks. My eyes slowly open to find her standing above me. “I have examined you and you are indeed pregnant. About eight weeks or so.” She nods and I feel so … violated; she examined me while I was passed out. “Boris, she must be hydrated and she must eat properly, all these things affect the fetus. She must also stop being drugged,” she says, completely ignoring me. I want to cry but tears are for people who have feelings and I feel … nothing.

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“Yes, I will see to her. The protection of the fetus is most important. What about fucking?” he asks. I almost whimper, but if I were honest with myself, I would know that this is exactly what I expected I would forever be used for—my body, one way or another. “She may fuck but try to keep whoever it is from being violent or too rough. If she begins to bleed between the legs, you must call me. I will return in four weeks for my next exam,” she says, her voice harsh. With that, the good doctor leaves. “Good luck for you, Haleigh. You can fuck, and I have a line of men just waiting to get a hold of prima ballerina pussy.” He grins. I shake, unable to control my disgust and revulsion at this man, this handsome devil. “Get up and shower, I bring you food,” he barks, making me jump. I sigh, standing on shaky legs, wobbling toward the shower.

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I don’t know how long I have been here, and I don’t care. My life is no longer important, to me or anybody else. I start the shower and get inside after stripping my clothes off. It is a small dirty shower and the water is cold, but I don’t feel it, not really. I wash my body and my hair with the generic shampoos and soaps, then wrap myself in a small scratchy towel and go back to the dirty mattress where I have been drugged for what could be weeks, but what was probably days. “Put this on,” the handsome devil I now know as Boris barks and throws a cami and panty set at me. Shamelessly, I change right in front of him. Just days ago, my husband was the only man to see me completely naked; but after Boris is finished with me, will I even know how many men will have seen me? Been inside of me? Used me for their pleasures? “A sandwich and water. Eat up, ballerina, you will be working well into the

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morning.” He laughs and walks out of the room. How could a man so handsome be so cruel? I eat the food, it is bland and I actually like that. It helps the numbness. I sit on the bed alone. My life is over. I should have ran when I had the chance, but I have a feeling whoever these men were, they would have found me anyway. I stare at the wall for what seems like hours and then the door bursts open and I am met with the first man who will take his pleasure from my pain. It startles me. I am met with another handsome devil, a man I met once and thought was so pretty—too pretty for whores. He is one of them; he is also Maxim’s friend. How could this be? “Haleigh, what have you gotten yourself into?” he whispers his eyes roaming over my practically nude body, panties and a cami

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with no bra underneath; it makes me feel completely exposed. “I have done nothing but existed. Maybe you should ask your friend, Maxim, that question,” I say softly. He shakes his head and begins to undress. He is going to fuck me? He is my husband’s friend and he is going to fuck me? I want to throw up, and scream, and run, but I can’t. I only hope that the numbness will take over once the shock of seeing Gregori wears off. Gregori walks over to me, completely nude, but I look into his eyes and I see something akin to remorse. I want to laugh. What a fake emotion from these men—pity, remorse, they do not belong to these men. Men who do not even have a conscience. He slides into the bed his back to the door and

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he wraps his hand around my neck as his lips touch behind my ear. “We are being filmed, milaya moya. I will be gentle, and I will make sure no other man comes to you. I cannot just leave you alone, you must realize this,” he whispers, his hand sliding to my hip and around to my ass. He gently squeezes me, and I feel disgusted with myself for liking it. “Why are you doing this?” I ask, tears finally pricking my eyes. Numbness is not taking over as I had hoped. “I am trying to save all of the women like you, milaya moya, but if I expose myself now, I will lose dozens of them. So many innocents, you must understand this.” His eyes are focused on mine and I see something inside him. I see a fierce warrior, a man true to his word. I see goodness, or maybe I am praying I see the goodness in his eyes. “Will you protect my baby? Even if something happens to me, please protect my

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baby, Gregori,” I whisper, allowing the tears to fall. Gregori kisses my tears away. “Yes, milaya moya, your baby will be forever under my protection. But nothing will happen to you. Have faith in me and have faith in your husband. He loves you and he will save you. Together we will all save many others.” I nod and suck in a breath as he begins to slowly remove my clothes. Gregori doesn’t speak as he kisses down my body, his mouth connecting with my core, licking me softly, hesitantly, and I cry. I cannot hold the tears in as this beautiful man sucks on my clit; my betraying body begins to come alive under his continuous motion. His mouth is warm and his tongue firm as he pushes it inside of me. He is gentle, so much gentler than Maxim ever has been. It isn’t bad, but it isn’t Maxim, and I continue to cry. Gregori’s hands slide under my ass as he brings me closer to his face and I shamelessly grind myself even closer to his mouth

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as my hands slide into his hair. I feel that familiar feeling, that clawing beneath my skin for release, and then suddenly his mouth is gone and he replaces it with his cock, sliding deep inside of me. He isn’t as big as Maxim, but I still feel a bit of pain as he fills me. “Fucking Christ,” he whispers. I moan at the feeling. I screw my eyes shut, tightly. I don’t want to like it, but I do. I feel shameful and dirty. I am disgusted with myself. “I’m sorry, Haleigh, but you feel so fucking good,” he whispers. Then he starts thrusting in and out of me, gently, but with purpose. I wrap my legs around his waist and raise my hips to meet his thrusts, my belly clenching and then, as if the guilt washes away for just a moment, I come hard. My fingernails dig into the skin of his biceps. Gregori buries his face in my neck as he continues to thrust into my body. Before long, he

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stills and throws his head back with a moan. He comes inside of me and with that, the guilt comes rushing back like a tidal wave. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs rolling off me. I immediately turn over and face the wall, unable to look at him. “I will be back,” he promises. The promise makes me sick. I start to cry at his words as he dresses, and then he is gone. I don’t move. For hours, I don’t move. I stare at the wall and think about how horrible I am. It doesn’t matter that Maxim gave me to these people or not. I am still legally his wife, and I have just cheated. Even if I was forced to do it, I still cheated and I feel disgusting. I shower in the cool water again and put the flimsy cami and panties back on, trying to fall asleep. I pray that Gregori finishes his mission, finds my Maxim, and tells him where I am. I pray that I don’t stay here long enough to deliver my child.

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I am a bastard of the worst kind. I fucked my friend’s wife and I fucking liked it. None of these men can know that I am friends with Maxim. I must continue to make them believe I am only around him to keep tabs on him for them. I am under no illusion that when Maxim finds out he will shake my hand and thank me for protecting his wife. No, he will kill me. This has escalated my plan. I am not ready to execute it yet, but I cannot continue to fuck Haleigh. I cannot allow her to give birth in this shithole. I cannot allow my friend’s child to be taken from him. Too much has already been taken from him. For the first time in my life, I feel an emotion. It must be guilt. I have never felt it before.

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“Was she as tight as her body promised?” Boris asks, taking a drag from his cigarette. I glare at him a moment. “She is mine. You’ll not sell her to another while she is here,” I demand. This is rare for me, but not unheard of. Many a time there has been a girl, too young or too innocent for whoring, and I have taken them as mine. I tell myself it is for protection, but maybe I am just as evil as the men running this group because I always fuck them. I always enjoy it too. Their tight pussies, their tighter assholes, and their unsure mouths. Teaching them how to fuck a man, I fucking love it. I am just as sick as these fucks. “I have a list for her, Gregori,” Boris growls. I pull my gun out and point it at his face. “You are nobody. You are nothing, and I tell you what to do. Am I clear?” He gulps and nods.

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“If you hurt her, if she is not properly cared for, I will torture you,” I threaten, my eyes meeting his, never wavering. I am in control, I am in charge, and I fucking despise how much I love it. “I have a new debt to collect. I will be gone a few days. This fucker thought he could hide in Los Angeles, like the city would swallow him and his little daughter up,” he announces. I nod, business as usual. “How old is the daughter?” “Seventeen. Sweet little thing.” He flops the file down on my desk, and I open it. I almost gasp at the beauty staring back at me. The photo was taken from afar, but our photographer is good and it looks as though he is just mere inches from her round face. I can see her golden skin with light freckles on her nose, her sun-streaked blonde hair, and her golden eyes staring into my soul, seeing all of the black I try to hide inside.

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The next photo is one of her on the beach with her girlfriends. Though her face is young and still round like that of a child, her body is anything but childish. Her breasts are large for her frame and firm looking; her waist small, her stomach flat, and her hips curved. I bite my lip at the plumpness of her perfect ass. “You touch her before you bring her here, I will cut your balls off, and then your head,” I bark. I want this one; this girl is mine. Perhaps this will be the end of this group. I will take this girl and be done; disassemble the group and officially take over, change it for the good, or for what I feel is the good. “Why?” “It is not your rank to question me, Boris. She is mine,” I bellow angrily.

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Boris rolls his eyes and snatches the file back, grumbling something about me being a greedy bastard. I put my plan in motion. It is time. I will save the ten women we have here plus my new acquisition. The pretty blonde will be mine. She calls to me. I must have her. I am a bastard; I never said that I wasn’t. I will save these girls, but the pretty young blonde will not be saved.

HALEIGH HAS BEEN GONE from my side a full twenty-four hours and nobody can find her. My men are working hard, yet they have found nothing. Pasha and Dimitri are both completely baffled, but I know the men who took her are good. This is what they do, and this is how they operate. I haven’t slept in almost forty-eight hours, and if I don’t get some sleep soon, I’m

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not going to be able to function to find my wife. I rifle through the medicine cabinet and see Haleigh’s sleeping pills. I grip them in my hand squeezing the bottle and closing my eyes, remembering how stupidly angry I became with her for taking them. I have fucked up a lot with her. I regret every hurtful thing I have ever done. I hope I can be a better man for her; I hope that I can be a rational man for her when she returns. Once I have taken the pills, I lie down and quickly doze off to sleep. “Ma,” I cry out as a hand wraps around my throat from behind. I look over to see Maryia crying on the dirty floor. My mother is sitting at the dining room table on the one chair we have left. Tears are streaming down her face as she sobs and reaches out for me. I am too far away from her. “You are nothing but a dirty, druggedout whore. You knew this would happen.

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How kind of you to provide the cause with a new pussy and a new soldier,” the man behind me sneers. “Please, don’t take them. They are too young,” my mother screams as she runs toward Maryia, but the man behind me slaps her on the face causing her to fall to the ground. She is skinny and frail — my mother. “That pussy will be perfect in a few years, and I cannot trust that you and your piece of shit husband will keep it pure. Nobody wants to fuck used up pussy. You should know that.” He laughs, and it is cruel. “Vasily,” my papa says as he walks through the door. “Son,” the man behind me says to my papa. Son… he called my papa son… that must mean that this man is my grandfather.

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“Let my family go,” my papa says, but he doesn’t sound strong; he sounds weak and scared. “You stupid cunt. You let them go the day you signed them over to me, before they were conceived. It’s over Nikolay. You got the pussy you wanted, and I get the soldier and pussy I want.” He laughs and it sounds cruel. “No, this is not over,” my father yells, and a second later, I watch him fall to the ground. A pool of blood around his head. My mother screams and runs over to him wrapping her arms around him before she turns to the man behind me. “You bastard,” she screams before her body slumps over his. “I should have done that years ago. Feels good to get rid of filth,” the man says and turns me around to face him. My eyes focus on my sister, my Maryia, who is being held by a giant man in a fancy suit.

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“You go to the boy’s orphanage. Your sister will be taken care of until it is her time to earn her keep. I will send a man to take you when your time comes as well.” I gulp and nod facing him again. “Are you my grandfather?” I ask, my voice shaking. “Technically, yes but your blood is cursed by your father’s and that whore who pushed you through her tainted cunt. You’re worthless to me as a person, but you will be strong and you will fight for me—or I will kill you.” My body jolts awake, and I sit straight up with sweat pouring down my face. I haven’t had a dream about that night in years. I close my eyes, willing myself to remember that the past is over. Is it, though? Or is it simply repeating itself?

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I haven’t slept in six days. I can’t. I stare at the wall and wait for Gregori to come in and fuck me. I know it isn’t making love, even if Gregori is much gentler than Maxim ever was. I can see it in his eyes. Gregori cares for me as a friend, possibly. But when Maxim looks at me, his feelings ooze from him, I understand that now. He cared for me; perhaps it wasn’t love, but I now know he felt for me, and Gregori does not. I was just too blind to see that he felt for me more than he verbally shared. He will probably never want me again because another man has been inside of me. He loved that I was truly only his, and now, I am dirty and tainted. And the worst part? I have come every time with Gregori. “It is time,” Gregori whispers. I roll over to see him standing at the side of my bed. He

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is dressed, so I’m not sure what he’s referring to. “Time?” I ask. “To leave, Haleigh. I have made my move and it is time,” he says with a smile. I cannot share in his joy, not when I know I am going to go home to nobody, to nothing. I know that Maxim will not want me. I nod and nimbly rise from the dirty bed, barefoot and barely dressed. I walk toward Gregori; right before I reach his outstretch hand, I freeze. “I can’t go back to him. Please, don’t take me back,” I beg as the tears leave my eyes, streaking my face. “He has been searching for you. Come now, we go.” “Maxim will not want me now,” I whisper. Gregori’s eyes close as he takes in a breath.

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“He loves you, milaya moya. He will welcome you back with open arms,” he mutters, almost pained. I shake my head. “No, send me anywhere else,” I beg. Gregori nods and agrees. He says that he will fly me to Florida and give me some money to get settled. I choose to believe him, even if it is probably stupid of me to do so. I choose it because the thought of staying in that room for another minute makes me want to scream and act violently. I take his outstretched hand. He pulls me up to an old wooden staircase and through a dirty old house toward a waiting black SUV. Inside are six girls in various stages of undress, thinness, and cleanliness. I sit down next to a girl who looks around eighteen and she smiles at me just slightly, her golden blonde hair clean, as well as her clothing. She looks to be in the best shape out of the seven of us girls. Gregori slides into the

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driver’s seat of the car but doesn’t go anywhere. “Watch this, girls,” he murmurs. I watch him punch a few buttons on his phone and then the house explodes, fire and debris everywhere. Gregori smiles and turns to us. He looks evil at that moment. Maniacal. For the first time, I am terrified of him. “Boris and those other assholes were in your cells. I planted the bombs in the cells with them and you’re free now. I will take each of you to a safe house and the people guarding you will be informed when you will be truly free to go.” Most of the girls gush and thank him, so happy to be free of their sexual services. Most girls, except the pretty young blonde sitting next to me and myself. I want Maxim, but he will not want me and that makes me sick.

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One by one, we are driven to houses and each girl is dropped off. Gregori informs us that these are not the only girls he has saved. He sounds so valiant until you remember he is one of them. He took girls and their babies. Fucked girls against their will—fucked me. Gregori is not innocent; he is as much a part of this problem as the men in charge. Once the car is empty, save for the little blonde, Gregori, and me, I decide to talk to him. “So you have saved us. Did you kill the men who are in charge?” I ask. Gregori tenses at my words, and I take that to be a negative. “They will only come after them again and me. My husband promised him this debt as a child, right? It doesn’t sound like these men, whoever they are, will back down or let him get away without repayment. I am not safe, am I? Even if Maxim takes me back

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after what has happened to my body, I will always be a sitting duck waiting for them to take me again and do more to me.” “I will take care of it, milaya moya, no worries,” he promises. I shake my head, looking out the window as the familiar surroundings of Maxim’s property envelops me. Lies. “You will let me know when it is safe to sleep soundly again? You will let me know that when I deliver this baby I will be able to keep it? That I won’t have to worry about it being taken from the cradle as I sleep in the next room? Please, Gregori, after everything, I need to know that even if I don’t survive this life, my baby will be free of this bullshit,” I almost growl. Gregori turns to me wideeyed. I never cuss, even when he was fucking me against my will, I just took it. I always just take it.

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“Be safe,” the little blonde whispers before Gregori says another word. I see something shining inside of her, a light of innocence, and I hope she can keep it. Mine burned out a while ago. I wish I could get it back and hold onto it for just a moment longer. “You, too,” I say. She nods as the door opens. Gregori is standing there, his body tight. I walk barefooted up the steps of what was once my home. Will it ever be again? Will I be able to live here after Gregori has tainted me? Dimitri pulls the door open as soon as Gregori knocks and he looks from Gregori to me and then down at my lack of clothing and growls. I hear footsteps from inside on the hard stone flooring and my breath is stolen from my body. My once beautiful husband is standing in shock at the door, his eyes wide. He looks so much thinner with dark circles

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under his eyes; his hair longer and messy; his face covered with a beard; his normally perfect suit, rumpled and dirty. “Golubushka,” he whispers before he falls to his knees at my feet and sobs. My big, beautiful, strong husband cries at my feet, and it makes me sick. I make me sick. I let another man inside of my body while my husband worried about me, and I didn’t fight it. I am worthless. “Go to him,” Gregori whispers. I don’t move. I can’t. I am rooted to the spot, my body shaking. Suddenly, my husband lifts me and takes me into the house. “Find out everything,” I hear him whisper to Dimitri before he takes me up to our bedroom. Ours—I am home. “Are you hurt? Do I need to call you a doctor?” My hands fly to my stomach and, for the first time, I am relaxed enough to truly worry over the health of my baby.

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“I am not hurt, but I will need an OB/ GYN, Maxim.” He nods as he lays me down on the bed, his lips touching my neck. “Were you violated, Haleigh? Do not be scared to tell me. I kill them for taking you. I torture them for violating you.” My eyes clash with his blue ones, and I know I must tell him as much as I can, but I do not think I can ever tell him everything. It would kill him. “I was, Maxim. I am so very sorry,” I cry, my body shaking as the world crashes down around me. Was I violated? I accepted Gregori into my body; he brought me to climax so does that mean that I was violated? I don’t know. I hate myself, at this moment; answering this question makes me hate myself. Gregori was trying to save me, but he made me come and I even enjoyed his body lying with mine. I am disgusting.

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“Sorry, in this case, is weak, golubushka. You are strong. You survived and you did what had to be done, what was forced to be done to you. I do not hold it against you and I never will.” His words are beautiful for him, but if he knew I liked it when Gregori fucked me, if he knew I came—he would hate me. “I am pregnant, Maxim. I need to make sure the baby is okay. They drugged me a few times, and I don’t think I ate enough while I was there.” My words take a moment to sink in and then he looks at me with concern and maybe a bit of happiness. “My baby?” he asks. I hate, I hate, that he has to even ask. I nod, wanting to punch him in the face for even asking, but it isn’t his fault at all. “I call the doctor. You go and take a bath.” He is all business, and I follow his directions. By the time I am out of the bathroom, a doctor has arrived and is waiting for me.

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“I stay here for the exam,” Maxim barks. I nod, walking over to the bed. I have been poked, prodded, and fucked by another man. If Maxim wants to be in the room for this exam, I am past being shy at this point. The doctor is nice, a kind gentleman, and I spread my legs as he examines me. All of me. “You have had some sexual intercourse, but whoever it was, they were gentle enough. No scaring, no tearing. You look good,” he offers. I nod once, screwing my eyes tightly, trying not to think about the way Gregori gently fucked me several times a day—every day. I try not to think about how his touch made me feel, how I yearned for it and waited for it toward the end—even felt as though I wanted it. A whoosh, whoosh sound suddenly fills the room, and I pop my eyes back open. I

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look over to the tiny little screen the doctor is holding. “This is your baby. Not much yet, about ten weeks, but here it is. That sound you hear is the heartbeat. Everything looks good. Make sure to drink plenty of fluids and eat healthy foods. See your regular physician as soon as possible, but everything looks really great.” He offers me a sad smile. I thank the doctor before he leaves the room. I face Maxim and realize he has been silent the entire time. His face focuses on me, but his eyes are unfocused. “Maxim,” I whisper, wrapping the robe around myself tightly. Maxim’s eyes are dark and his face hard as granite; he is angry and his anger is aimed at me. “The man who fucked you was gentle, no? He did not hurt you and you did not fight him?” he asks. I nod, knowing exactly where this is going.

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“You told me you understood, that I was trying to survive,” I murmur trying to keep my tears at bay. “Survive, yes, but I expect a man would force himself on my wife, she would fucking fight. Are you not a Lasovska?” he roars. I want to answer; I want to scream and yell at him—tell him I had no choice but to accept my fate—a fate that was entirely his fault and not mine, but I don’t. I can’t because he is right. I liked it when Gregori touched me. I think after being alone in that room, in the dark, I would have even possibly accepted Boris’ touch. I was so terrified I would die, that my baby would die. I gave up — I gave up, and now, my husband is hurting because of my weakness. “I was not born a Lasovska, Maxim. I was trying to survive.” I begin to cry—sob, really. “You are not good enough to be a Lasovska. You are blyad,” he roars. I jerk

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back as though he has physically assaulted me. “I am only a whore because that is what you made me, Maxim. You bought me, or bartered for me, or whatever sick deal you had with my family. You knew that as soon as we were married, I would be taken by that group and my child would be ripped from my body, trained to fight, or be sold as a whore. “You knew they would whore me out until I was of no use to them. You knew all of this and I did not. You made me a whore, Maxim. That is on you, not on me. You fuck me at your friend’s house, where all your coworkers can hear, and then you are shocked that I am taken the next day and whored out? I am naïve, Maxim, but I am not stupid. This whole scenario is on you, not me. “But if you really want to know the truth, yes, I liked it. It felt wrong because it wasn’t you, but he was gentle and he made me come. I’m sorry if that is not what you want

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to hear, but it is the truth. I am only the whore you made me to be,” I scream. I am crying, full-on screaming, not caring if anybody or everybody can hear me. There are no secrets any longer. I am a whore. I am a disaster, and I didn’t even realize that Dimitri had been witness to the entire scene. Maxim reaches back and backhands me. My face flies to the side, and I feel like it is about to explode when Dimitri holds his gun to Maxim’s temple. “You hit your pregnant wife again, I kill you, Maxim.” Maxim turns to Dimitri and sneers. “Of course, one whore sticks up for the other around here,” he spits out. Then he is gone, leaving Dimitri and me alone. Dimitri wraps me in his arms, a shocking gentle and out of character move for him, but I accept it. “You will be all right, and he will come around. Now you know. You and I, we are

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not so different, little one,” he whispers, kissing the top of my hair. “I didn’t want to like it, Dimitri. You have to believe me,” I say between sobs. “I never wanted to like it either, Haleigh, but at times I did. I liked it very much. I felt so dirty afterward, so wrong. I was a whore in Moscow. My mother was a, what you call, madam, here. She pimped me out at a young age, so I understand the feelings. You are ashamed, but at the moment, when it feels so good, it is hard to feel that shame. You feel like you are on a high,” he confesses. I know exactly what he is referring to. I cry a bit harder for the child that Dimitri was. How many countless people used him for money, and to know his mother pushed him into it? I cry for Dimitri and I cry for myself, feeling sorry for myself all over again. There is no winner in this situation. Maxim, Dimitri and I, we are not winners. We will never be normal people, but

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hopefully, we can find peace. We may have to be alone to find that peace, but all I want is for it to wash over us. “I am so sorry for what happened to you,” I whisper, burying my head in his chest. “I would not be who I am today without my past, Haleigh. We cannot regret everything in our past because, without those experiences, heartbreaks, and our shattering pains, we would not be who we are today. You are strong, little one, and Maxim will come around. He loves you, very much, and though this experience has been horrendous on you, it has also been hard on him. “He is a man, your man, and he could not protect you. Also, he knows very much that it is his fault. He is trying to deal with his guilt, his part of the kidnapping, and your rape. With time, you will heal and so will he. It will be a hard road, but once you find your way back to each other, it will be a beautiful

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future for the two of you,” he whispers into the dark room as silence falls between us. “Sshhh,” a deep voice says from behind me. I feel the strong, familiar arms of my husband wrap around my body. “Let me hold my wife for one more night.” Maxim’s cryptic words worry me but sleep takes over. When I wake, the harsh reality of his words slap me in the face. Maxim is gone. His clothes are gone. His office empty. There is only a note on the kitchen counter. Golubushka– My Little Dove, You are correct in the blame for what happened to you. It is my fault. I take full responsibility, and I will take care of it. Gregori and I have teamed up to find the bastards who are in charge and kill them all, as I should

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have done years ago. I do not know when I will return. We will be traveling to Moscow. I haven’t been back in years, and I had hoped to bring you with me. Going with Gregori was not in my plans, but neither was you being taken for my foolish vows as a poor, hungry child in the streets of Moscow. Dimitri will be there to watch over you. He will be better able to help you heal; he has been through the same types of things I am sure you experienced. You have unlimited access to my accounts and credit cards, buy whatever you need. Make sure you go to the doctor and take care of our baby. You owe me nothing. I hope you will keep the life inside of you, but if you decide to rid yourself of the

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burden of carrying my child, I will not be angry with you. I want you to know that I fell in love with you. I may have bartered for you, forgiven a debt, and accepted you as payment, but it was because once I saw you, I could not imagine my life without you. Now, I am stuck with that reality anyway. Life is, as you call it in America, a bitch. I hope that one day you will be able to forgive me. I never imagined this would happen to you. I truly am sorry for everything. I hope you will be happy. Find someone to love you the way I never could. Be happy. Be free. All of my love, my life, and my soul. -Maxim. I pick up the, no doubt, expensive vase that is sitting on my desk where the note was

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neatly tucked underneath, and I throw it at the wall as I sink down to the ground. That bastard—he ran. I knew he wouldn’t be able to handle what happened to me, but I never imagined he would run from me. I figured he would make me leave, but nothing could have prepared me for the heartbreaking fact that I am now alone. Pregnant and alone. My husband doesn’t want me, but he claims he loves me. My life is truly fucked. I crawl back to my bed, and I fall asleep. Maybe I can just fall asleep and never wake up? As morbid as that sounds, it is currently what I crave because I now face the reality that I am all alone. Maxim was more than just my husband these past months. He has been my best friend. My confidant. My lover. Now, he has ripped my heart out and run away from me. How can I cope with raising our child alone?

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How can I ever be strong enough to be the mother and father our baby needs? I am so weak. I have already proved my weaknesses.

FORTY-TWO DAYS. That is how long it has been since I have seen my beautiful wife. I imagine her belly is quite swollen with my child these days, and it makes me ache straight to my core. I will never see my child grow inside of her. I will never see her hold my child. The harsh reality is that I will probably never even see my child. That makes me

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want to kill someone, and I aim to do just that, when I find out exactly who is in charge. No, it makes me want to torture. “Mr. Lasovska, room two is yours,” the older woman informs me. She is haggard, has lived the life of a whore until nobody would pay for her services. Now, she is a receptionist and a madam. I am searching for whores. How my life has changed. I nod at the old woman and walk into the second room. It is just a closet, really, only separated by sheets hanging from the ceiling. It disgusts me and reminds me of my life before, the life I thought I had left far behind. “How may I please you?” the little girl asks me in Russian. She is just that, a little slip of a thing, not over the age of twenty. I put my fingers under her chin and lift her face so that her eyes meet mine. She is pretty, long brown hair and bright blue eyes,

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dulled by her life, but still bright in color. She is too thin, and I see bruises all over her pale skin. A fleeting thought runs through my mind, and I wonder when the last time she saw the sun was. Haleigh enjoyed lying out by the pool and soaking up the rays. “Your name?” I bark. Her eyes widen before she answers. “Klara,” she answers softly. I nod. She is not who I want. I take money out of my pocket and hand it to her. “No, you must give this to the woman in front,” she pleads. Klara raises her hands, and she is refusing to take it. “This is not for that old cunt; it is for you. Use it for whatever you need to. Leave here, start over,” I instruct. I then watch as she licks her dry lips, looking up at me with caution, as she should. “How may I thank you?” Her tone turns seductive, and I close my eyes as her hand slides to my cock.

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Klara softly palms me, the friction making me hard even though I do not want to be. I groan, and she takes that as a sign to take things further. She unbuckles my belt, and I shiver as she takes me into her mouth. I should push her away, tell her to stay away from my cock, but I am so fucking lonely. I accept the blowjob, and I have to close my eyes and imagine my beautiful Haleigh before I can come. I leave the brothel disgusted with myself. That was not meant to happen. “Was it her?” Gregori asks. I gruffly tell him no. Later that evening in our hotel, my phone rings—Pasha. I answer because Pasha will send somebody to kill me if I do not. Pasha understands this journey, and he is allowing it only because I am also doing business for him while I am here.

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“Pasha,” I say grabbing a shot glass and a bottle of vodka—when in Russia, right? “It is time for you to come home,” he orders. I sigh into the phone, and Gregori looks at me, knowing exactly what this conversation entails. Pasha has called me at least once every week to entice me back home. “You know I cannot. I have not found who I am looking for,” I say, closing my eyes. It is true; I have not found the leader of the group who took my Haleigh. I know he operates here in Russia. I have not found the whore I have been searching for either. Two important people, two people I must find before I can breathe freely. Two people I should have searched for and found many years ago. Two people I was afraid of searching for until now. “Sonia has me call, she is concerned for Haleigh. She says she is not doing so well,”

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he informs me. I shake my head as the man can see me. “Dimitri would call if there was problem, Pasha. You know this,” I say trying, to curb that guilt rolling around in my stomach. Pasha laughs, and it angers me immediately. “Dimitri is too busy trying to run your business here. He is never at the house, Maxim. Did you think your company was going to run itself? We need that legitimacy. It cannot fail. Sonia has spent as much time as possible with the girl, as have the other wives, but she continues to retreat. Sleeping all day and hardly leaving the house. If she lives through the birth of the baby, I highly doubt she will live past much more. The only reason the child thrives is because Sonia forces her to eat and gives her pills for nutrition.” How am I just hearing this now?

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“How have you not told me any of this before? All you have said was that she was sad. She has lived through a hell I cannot imagine, Pasha. I knew she would be fucking sad,” I bark. Gregori is staring at me from across the room. He looks guilty, and it makes me wonder what he could be feeling guilt over? I look back at him in question, and he immediately looks away. It piques my interest. What is he hiding? Gregori disappears every other week for four days. I know not where he goes, but he comes back much happier and I can only assume he has found some woman to regularly fuck. Does he feel guilty that he has found his happiness? I would never begrudge him that. “Would you have cared? Would you have done anything besides sending Dimitri or Sonia to her aid? You are still part of this family, but I am releasing you from my control. You are no longer my Brigadier, you

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will answer to somebody else from now on. Somebody in Moscow. I am done with this. “No man under my control and care treats the woman he wanted, bartered for, and purposely impregnated this way. I may be a sick fuck, Maxim, but would never treat my Sonia the way you have Haleigh. She will forever be under my protection, but you are not. “Maybe Dimitri will take her as mistress since he has taken your rank. He is no longer Boevik he is now my new Brigadier.” Pasha hangs up the phone, and I just stare at it. Pasha has released me; the only person I have cared for in my life aside from Sonia and Haleigh. The man I have always looked up to has written me off. I don’t know what to do. Is this mission bullshit? I know that if it is successful, it will not be bullshit—but if I fail? If I fail, then I have let down the whore

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I am searching for, my wife, and my child. Is the risk worth the payout? I do not know. I fill up my shot glass, one after the other, after the other, until my vision blurs and I pass out. Gregori doesn’t ask me what has happened, but I suspect he can figure it out. He isn’t stupid. Once I am finally asleep, I dream. I dream of my beautiful ballerina. I dream of the depth of her sadness and how it makes my chest ache to see her sad—to know that I have caused the sadness. I am the reason she cries. I hate myself. I do not deserve her. I need to stay away from her even more now because I don’t deserve her beauty.

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I peek into the crib, watching my sweet baby boy, Maksimilyan Lasovska. I haven’t chosen a middle name for him yet. How could I, when picking his first name was so difficult. The moment Maxim left me, it was as if my heart shattered into a million pieces. The only thing that has made me smile since that day is my Maksimilyan. “He is a good, strong, healthy boy,” Dimitri says quietly, walking up behind me. “Yes, I just wish …” I let my words trail off. After all of these months, I know that what I wish will never come true. He will never come back to me now. It has been too long. “I know you do. I wish I knew the right thing to tell you,” he says softly, his strong

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chest pressed against my back as his hand curves around my hip. I should push him away. I should be angry that he is even touching me, but the human contact feels nice. I feel like I am the dirty whore Maxim accused me of being. I am just so damn lonely. “Dimitri,” I warn suppressing a moan when his fingers dig into my hip. His lips skim my neck before I completely lose his body heat from behind me. “I know your heart loves him, Haleigh. I would not ask for your heart—ever. I just hope that one day you can like me enough to let your body be mine. We could make each other happy, sladkiy. I will wait for you,” he murmurs softly before he leaves the room. I cry. I let the tears flow as I look down on my baby. My son. He needs his father, but if Maxim won’t come back to me, he still needs a good man

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to guide him. Pasha will, of course, be a part of his life as a guiding grandfather, but I know boys need more; they need a daily presence. Dimitri can be that man. He has made it clear he will be that man. I just don’t know if I can let him be that man.

Natalia, the beautiful blond wife of one of Maxim’s warriors, shows at my door with a tray of desserts and a smile. We have become friends, the women who belong to the men in Maxim’s life. They have helped me through his departure, and they all come with stories of betrayal and heartache at the hands of their men. I am not alone any longer. I am lonely, but I am not alone. These women have suffered greatly, some at the hands of their

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men and some at the hands of others in retaliation for something their men have done. We understand each other. We are sisters. “You need to eat. You are too thin.” Natalia grins, shoving the desserts in my hands as she takes Maksimilyan from my arms. “I need to lose this baby weight is what I need to do,” I snort, following her into my living room and settling down on the sofa. “Have you not heard from him?” she asks, cuddling my sweet bundle to her chest. I shake my head, unable to say the words. “Dimitri has heard from him, then?” she asks, arching a brow. “I don’t know,” I confess with a shrug. “Dimitri wants you, though, no?” She quips. She knows too much. “He has mentioned a relationship, if I am ever ready to try and accept the fact that Maxim is gone from me,” I say without

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crying, for the first time. It feels like a tiny victory. “Dimitri is a good man, Haleigh. He would treat you and Maksimilyan right,” she whispers. “I know. I should accept what he has offered, but I love Maxim. How stupid am I?” “You are a woman who has fallen in love and has had her heart broken by an idiot of a man. You are not stupid. You, my dear, are normal,” she mutters. Natalia and I spend the afternoon just enjoying our friendship without any more talks of depressing relationship problems. I love Maxim, but how long should I pretend that he will come back when I know the truth? He isn’t coming back. To be honest, after everything we have been through, we probably couldn’t make our marriage last even if he did come back. I could physically be with Dimitri and should feel no guilt. I am under no illusions

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that Maxim is being faithful to me at this moment. I don’t expect him to be, and I would be naïve to think that he even could be. I don’t know all about Maxim’s past, but I know that whatever he lived through as a child and a young man was torturous. He uses sex, hard fucking, and domination to cope with the demons swirling around inside of his head. My abduction and rape only added fuel to his demons. I close my eyes, and as I do every single night since he left me … I dream. I dream of my beautiful ice blue-eyed Russian. The man who owns my heart and soul. The man who can make or break me. Unfortunately, I am broken right now and only this man can fix me. I pray he comes back to me before I am completely destroyed.

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The days come and go, all in a blur. I drink heavily as Gregori and I try to find the people we need, to end this mission, this self-imposed mission of ours. My new Pakhan—boss—is much colder and harsher than Pasha ever was. He requires me to do much dirtier work, things I haven’t had to execute myself, since I was a young warrior just starting out. I cannot even count the number of people I have tortured and killed—the number of women I have killed for being traitors in the short months I have been back in Moscow. As I slit the throats of these people, I feel nothing but emptiness. I miss my wife.

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I want my baby in my arms. I want the life I built for myself back. The worst was when I had to kill a child of a rival as a warning. I could only look at the boy and think of my own child. My nameless, faceless child. I hadn’t killed a child in so long, since I was one myself. I cried as I held the dead child in my arms. How cold and cruel this life of mine is that I could even stomach killing a harmless child for war, as a warning. It sickens me. Pasha has not contacted me again, and I know by this time, my child has come into this world. Will I ever know what I had? His or her name? I have come to terms that I have lost my Haleigh forever. Is it Dimitri that holds her at night? The thought makes me sick and angry, so I drink more. “You need to call Dimitri,” Gregori mutters as we round the corner of the apartment,

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looking for a brown-haired, blue-eyed beauty. We have found many, but none has been—her. “Nyet,” I clip. He tells me this at least twice a week. I never listen. “His is good man, Dimitri, he will take care of her and the child.” I come very close to shooting the bastard in the head, but I do not. As the weeks drag on, I have become less tolerant of Gregori, of his advice and his continued disappearances. He is not everything he claims to be, and I feel as though he is leading me around in circles. I refuse to be led on for much longer. This mission must end for my own sanity, if nothing else. Am I a man if I give up? I do not know. Things are not adding up with him, and I am becoming suspicious, but I cannot show it. If he suspects I am, even a little bit, he will change tactics. Gregori is extremely intelligent, and I do not put anything past him.

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Together, we walk into a small room and my eyes and body instantly recognize the girl in the corner—it is her. Mariya. She is as beautiful as she was the last time I saw her, at only six years old, when she was ripped from me. Taken by the same people who had Haleigh taken from me. I have never been brave enough to look for her until Haleigh had been taken. I need to right my wrongs in this world before I can accept myself, my life, and hopefully, my wife. I needed to find this woman. My sister. She looks a bit too thin, but she looks healthy. I drop to my knees, whispering her name, and her eyes open before her mouth goes wide. I cover it with my hand. “It is your brother; it is Maxim. I have come to rescue you.” She narrows her eyes at me. When I release her, she speaks.

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“I do not want you here. I know who you work for, I know who you are, and I do not want you.” She sounds so angry, so bitter. I have only come here to save her. I do not blame her. I know nothing of the hells she has endured over the years. “Mariya, what is this?” I ask. She shakes her head, tears falling from her eyes. “I was taken and horrible things were done to me, Maxim. It is true, you could not imagine. But a man, he fell in love with me. He is married, so I stay here. He is good man. He takes care of me,” she says in an almost pleading manner. I really look at my sister. The apartment isn’t as shitty as most we have been in, but it isn’t the best either. “I have money, Mariya. I take care of you, forever,” I offer. She gapes at me, her eyes wide and her mouth open. “I…” She hesitates, and I grab her hands and look into her eyes.

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“Let me do this for you. I take you and I take care of you, as I always should have been able to do. As I should have done many years ago.” Mariya’s eyes dart around, looking for answers. They shine with tears, and then, finally, she nods. I throw her over my shoulder and we run. I don’t give her a second to rethink her decision. Thoughts of my child, of Haleigh, and of Dimitri vanish for the moment. I have found my sister, and my current duty is to her care. “I have a line on the other issue. I will take care of it. You care for Mariya, and I will let you know,” Gregori says before he walks out, without allowing me to even ask any questions. It is suspicious that this line has happened all of a sudden, now that I have found Mariya. Something is not right, but I cannot dig deeper into his stories. I have

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Mariya to think about. I will not let her down again. I refuse. Guilt swims throughout my body as I think about the things my sister has suffered. I should have come for her years ago. My guilt for Haleigh’s mistreatment sent me on this mission to right wrongs, but I should have done this long ago. I hate myself for waiting all this time.

“What now?” Mariya asks, eating some bread and cheese. I close my eyes and images of Haleigh and a nameless, faceless baby crosses my mind. I want to go home to my wife. “Would you like to live here or America?” I ask, hoping she says Russia.

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Mariya doesn’t even think before she answers, America … of course. I pick up my phone and call my current Pakhan. I hate that I have to request time off from him, but it is what it is. I fucked up my own life, and this is the consequence. Once my vacation has been approved, I call the man I have been dreading speaking to again. He called me for a while and eventually stopped when I refused to return the calls. “Dimitri,” he says distractedly. I can hear the cries of a baby in the background, and it makes my heart break. “Sladkiy, take baby in the other room this is business, yeah?” he says to who I know must be Haleigh. I see red at the word, honey, thrown around as if it is comfortable. I want to kill Dimitri. I want to cut him. Gut him.

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Pull out his insides and spread them around the bedroom that he surely fucks my wife in. “Maxim, is that you?” He has switched to Russian, and I confirm that it is indeed, me. I hope that his cock shrivels at the sound of my voice. “I have found my sister, Mariya. She wishes to reside in America, so I will be bringing her tomorrow to live at the house. I will only be staying for two weeks before I must return to Moscow,” I state. Dimitri clears his throat. “Have you finished your vendetta then?” he asks. All I want to do is strangle him, fucking kill him—with my bare hands. “It is finished,” I clip. “Then why do you go back? Haleigh will be glad to have you back here, Maxim, and you will want to spend time with the baby, no?”

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“Nyet, I no longer work for Pasha. My new Pakhan is here in Moscow,” I say, grinding my teeth together as Dimitri clears his throat. “Pasha will have you back, Maxim, and I will gladly step down and assume my original position. Do not be a stubborn fool. Think of your family,” he urges. I hang up on him, not wanting to hear anymore of his bullshit. He fucks my wife and tries to play friend. Fuck him. I trust not a single person any longer in this world. Once I called Dimitri my friend, same with Gregori, but not anymore. Dimitri fucks my wife, takes her as mistress, as blyad, and tries to push her back into my arms. He has a game; what it is I do not know. Gregori is full of secrets and playing some sort of game of his own. I will find it out soon. The only person I can trust is myself. I close my eyes for a moment, willing

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the ache in my head to disappear. I also ignore the aching in my chest as I call and make private flight arrangements. “We have one hour before takeoff, we go,” I bark. Mariya, wisely, doesn’t say a word. It is smart of her. The city is dark, the car is waiting for me as I instructed, and inside, the Byki –bodyguard— is waiting to drive me home. I have not been to the place in over a year. Will it have changed at all? I would not imagine Haleigh would care to change it too much, but perhaps, I am wrong. Perhaps, she will have wanted to replace anything that reminded her of me. It is what I would do if she left me the way I abandoned her. “You will meet Dimitri and Haleigh when we arrive at the estate. Haleigh is the lady of the house, and I will not tolerate any disrespect of her or her child. Dimitri is her guard, probably her lover as well. You will

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respect him. They will not tell you what to do or how to do it, but you will be kind to them. The house may be mine, but they reside in it and they control the happenings. Haleigh does not speak Russian but Dimitri does,” I say unable to look at my sister. Mariya nods but eyes me cautiously before asking me a question. “Haleigh is your woman, then? Your mistress?” she asks curiously. It pains me to answer this question, but my sister will know the true answer soon enough, as I am sure it will be mentioned. “Haleigh is my wife. Mrs. Lasovska, and before you ask, the baby is mine.” I can tell that Mariya has no clue how to handle this information because she goes silent. It worries me. Does she think me less of a man because I just admitted my wife probably has a lover in my own home? Does she realize that I abandoned my own family out of fear? I am a worthless man.

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We arrive at the house, and everything is exactly as I left it. I knock—how foreign a feeling to knock at your own home. Mariya is at my side when my breath is stolen from my body as the door opens and my beautiful Haleigh is standing before me, absolutely gorgeous, holding a squirming child in her arms. A boy, dressed in overalls, and a little shirt underneath. “Maxim,” she whispers her eyes filling with tears as she takes me in. I wonder what she sees. Does she see an alcoholic? A broken man who cannot even look at another woman because his wife is the only person he wants? “Haleigh, this Mariya,” I say gruffly, trying to keep from crying like a woman at the sight of my beautiful wife’s face. Her eyes go wide, and she cannot hide her hurt—did Dimitri tell her nothing?

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“Please, come in,” she says softly, turning to walk inside of the room. “Just let me put Maksimilyan down in his bouncer, and I will find Dimitri. I am sure you want to see him,” she mutters. My head pounds. The name she has given our child, a name similar to mine, Maksimilyan Lasovska, so very Russian. It is as if she knew my heart when she named him such a strong name. I love it. I watch as her body sways, like that of a woman, confident, beautiful—rounder and thicker than she had ever been when I had her as my own all those months ago. She has grown so much, in body and maturity, the past year. I can see it clear as day. Her face is rounder and softer, but gone is the pure unadulterated innocence she once had, replaced with knowledge she should never possess. Knowledge I inadvertently fed her.

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“She is beautiful, Maxim, and the baby, your son, perfection,” my sister whispers to me in Russian. I watch as Haleigh walks toward Dimitri’s office, her breasts slightly bouncing with each step, her hips swaying, and her skirt hugging her luscious ass. She looks like a model. Her body is perfect, lush and curvy, whereas before she was all bones and hard muscle. She is now soft, a woman. My cock grows beneath my jeans, hardening for the first time in months. Only my wife can make me hard in an instant, no matter how her body looks, she just does it to me. “Maxim,” Dimitri bellows. He walks toward me, pulling me into his body—hugging me. The betraying fucker—but he isn’t, not really. I abandoned them, all of them. “My sister, Mariya, this is Dimitri and, of course, Haleigh.” I introduce my sister, and I can see the knowledge of Mariya being my sister changes Haleigh’s demeanor. She

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calms, relaxes, and I want to smile at her little jealousies, but I don’t. “Mariya will be staying here indefinitely. I will be here for only two weeks,” I announce. I watch as Haleigh opens her mouth but then shuts it as soon at the baby begins to cry. I look at him, wanting to pick him up and comfort him, but it isn’t my place. He is only my child by blood; I have not been the one to raise him. Dimitri has had that honor, and it makes me physically ill. I want my wife and my baby; I want them with me for eternity. I have fucked everything up, but I have saved my sister in the process, so perhaps I can live with myself. Most likely not. “I’m sorry, Maxim. It is time for his bath, and to nurse, then bed. It was very nice to meet you, Mariya. I know we will have more time to get to know each other,” she says soft and sweetly.

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Haleigh looks as though she is about to cry, and the awkwardness in the room is about to swallow us whole. “Nice to meet you,” Mariya says slowly. It surprises me that she knows any English at all. Haleigh’s gaze lingers on me for a moment and then the baby begins to cry and she hurries out of the room. “Please take the bedroom just around the corner here. It has its own en-suite bath, and you will be far enough away from the baby that he will not wake you up in the night. Haleigh changed all the linens just last night and brought some of her smaller clothes down for you to use,” Dimitri offers. Mariya knows when it is time for her to take her leave, and she does so quietly. My eyes focus on Dimitri, who watches her far too closely for my liking. With Haleigh in his bed, how could he even look at another woman?

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“Let us go to the office then?” Dimitri says quietly. I follow. The room looks so much different without my things. The desk is the same large dark wood piece, the chair a comfortable leather high back, but the decorations are different. Books litter the shelves. I know that Dimitri is an avid reader and I never was. There are also photos around the office, all of Maksimilyan. I notice there are some toys in the corner and a pen for him to play in. A stab of jealousy fills my body and consumes me. This man has my life, and I fucking handed it to him on a goddamned silver platter. “Why are you leaving in two weeks, Maxim?” he asks as I sit on the new dark green sofa across from him. “I must get back to work. My new Pakhan is not nearly as forgiving of my

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absence as Pasha was,” I admit. Dimitri nods, leaning back in his chair. “You know Pasha will accept you back. He was angry, but mostly he was worried about Haleigh’s health,” he offers. I nod. “You have seen to her well, it seems. Too well, maybe?” I arch an eyebrow at him, and he has the nerve to laugh. “Haleigh and I are nothing but companions, Maxim. Do not fill your head with thoughts of anything more. I know you love her and she loves you. She has had a hard year and she had a lot of nightmares and guilty feelings to work through. Plus, the loss of her lover and husband when she needed him most,” he accuses effectively. The stabbing of his words hit their mark, straight in my heart. “I did what I thought best,” I try to say. It does not sound convincing. Dimitri throws back his head in laughter.

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“You ran. It was not a good situation. I cannot say I wouldn’t have done the same, my friend. You must know that it is time to come home, Maxim. You have only missed mere months of your son’s life. Do not miss years.” I shake my head, but Dimitri holds his hand up and stops me from speaking. “Go upstairs, go into the nursery and watch your wife nourish your son. Look at all of that beauty and then you tell me that you are doing what is best by leaving them behind again. If that is the way you feel, then I will ask you to please divorce her so that I may have her, free and clear. That is the best woman I have ever known. I put my sons inside of her, and I know that they will not have a more loving mother to nourish them.” I walk right up to him and punch him in the face. “You do not touch what is mine,” I growl. The bastard just smiles.

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“Go to her,” he whispers. I turn around and march up the stairs. Toward my wife. Toward my son. Toward my whole fucking life.

I AM SITTING IN the rocking chair. Black and white photos of Russia fill the room; the bedding I know is a soft blue, as are the walls. The bedroom is calm and serene, but inside, I am a ball of nerves—gut-wrenching nerves. Maxim is home, and he barely looked at me. He didn’t even ask about his child and then he brought that woman, claiming it was his sister. A sister he has never mentioned to

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me before. Not that we knew much about each other, but he told me he was an orphan. I now know how he became one, but nothing about a sister. He disappears for a year and—poof—like magic, he is back, bringing her with him. “Maksimilyan, calm down, little love, you must sleep well tonight. We have guests,” I whisper to my heart—my baby. Maksimilyan looks up at me, his bright blue eyes dancing as he nurses. My baby is so serious and calm, but so very sweet—until night falls. It’s as if he turns into a wild animal. He cries and fusses every single night. I cannot remember the last time I slept for more than two hours straight, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. My son is my life. I lie back and relax, trying not to think about the beautiful man downstairs who doesn’t want anything to do with me. I wonder if he still thinks of me as dirty and

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disgusting? I haven’t even looked at another man since he left. Dimitri is so sweet, and if there were a man I could be interested in, it would definitely be him. But he is like a brother, a best friend. I accompany him to all social events, but I am Mrs. Lasovska. I am not Dimitri’s woman; though, I am sure there is gossip about our relationship. We are merely roommates and friends. Nothing more. I feel Maksimilyan turn into dead weight in my arms, and I know that he is asleep. Carefully I set him down in the crib and adjust myself. I turn to leave the room only to find the object of my affection standing in the doorway wearing an unreadable expression on his face. Not that I ever really understood his expressions, anyway. Expressions I believed to be love were nothing of the sort. I cannot read the man, never could, and probably never will be able to.

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“Come,” he says holding his hand out. I stare at him; he is like ice. Cool blue, cold eyes, granite body that is bulkier than I remembered. And his eyes, they are much more haunted. I don’t take his hand, but I walk toward our bedroom ahead of him. “You are beautiful with him,” he says softly once he has closed the door behind us. I glance at the monitor on my nightstand to see that Maksimilyan is indeed still asleep; sometimes, he acts like an opossum and plays me. “Why are you here, Maxim?” I whisper. I don’t turn to look at him. I can’t. I am already on the verge of tears. “Bringing my sister to safety. She was taken many years ago,” he explains. Inside, I am screaming that I don’t give a good goddamn about his fucking sister, but I keep my mouth shut.

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“You are leaving in two weeks, for … forever, then? Or will you come back every year to torture me and rip my heart out over and over again?” I ask turning around to see his body sway at the venom of my words. “Haleigh,” he murmurs. I take a step back as he takes one forward. “Fuck you,” I whisper as tears stream down my face. “I am bastard,” he mutters, his hands suddenly cupping my cheeks. I feel his lips kiss beside my ear, sending shivers down my body, emotions that have been dead for a year. “I hate you,” I moan as his lips travel down the column of my neck, his tongue tasting my collarbone. Maxim wraps his hands around my hips as his mouth slowly kisses back up my neck. Then he takes my earlobe between his teeth and tugs, sending jolts of pleasure through my body.

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“You look so fucking sexy, Haleigh,” he groans. My hands automatically go into his hair. It is longer, unkempt. Gone is the perfectly neat and tidy image of Maxim, and now, he is rougher and more dangerous looking. I love it. “I have tits and an ass now.” I laugh as his hands travel down to my ass, grabbing me, picking me up to carry me to the bed. “Loved your body before but, honestly, you look fucking fantastic,” he moans. Maxim is above me, his knees straddling my hips. His hair is messy from my fingers, and it’s hanging down, but his blue eyes focus completely on me. Slowly, his hands twist around the hem of my tank top and he gently peels it over my body. My bra is next, and my skirt is ripped off last, leaving me completely naked for him. “Most beautiful woman on earth,” he murmurs. His hand slides down the middle

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of my chest, my stomach, and then he cups my center. His palm is hot and I want so much more. “Will you let me in, my wife?” he whispers, and it’s as if he hasn’t been gone for a year, as if he wasn’t cruel with his words the night before he left me. I open my legs and I let my husband in. Because I am a fool. I am a fool who believes this man is meant for me. I am a fool who knows this man will break my heart. I am just a plain, fucking fool. Maxim’s chest rumbles as he slides a finger inside of me and slowly begins to pump it in and out of my core. He touches me the only way he knows how—rough and all-consuming. I arch my back, pushing my breasts forward and throwing my head back against the pillow, enjoying the feeling of him touching me, a piece of him inside of me. I feel his

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lips on my breasts as he licks and kisses my skin; his lips are soft on my nipples. “I cannot wait a moment longer,” he moans, breaking away from me and shedding his own clothes. I look at him and notice even more intricate blue tattoos than he had just a year ago cover his body. I shiver at what that means. Dimitri confessed to me months ago that every single tattoo has a meaning, most of them dark and menacing. He climbs over me again, and I spread my legs as his thick hips fit perfectly between them. Maxim is much bigger than he was before he left, but it is pure muscle and it scares me to think of how he has earned this new bulk, as sexy as it is. I lightly scratch my nails down his back as I look into his eyes; he looks right at me, his face devoid of emotion as he slides inside of me. For a moment, I think I see something flash in his eyes, but then it is gone as fast as

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it came. I am left looking at a void, and it makes me want to weep. I turn my head to the side, avoiding his dead eyes. It hurts my heart. Maxim buries his face in my neck and hair as he roughly pulls out and slams inside of me. I feel his hand slide between us as he brings me toward a hard, short orgasm and then he pulls out and strokes himself until he comes all over my stomach. I am stunned. Shocked. Completely disgusted. I feel dirty and used. All over again. “I sleep in the guest room,” he says, his voice thick with his accent. “Maxim,” I call out. He stops at the door, sliding his pants up his hips, his eyes completely dead as they look at me. “I leave in three days, Haleigh. I send you divorce papers in the mail. You can have

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everything and then you can be with Dimitri,” he murmurs. My eyes widen as I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out. It wouldn’t matter if it did because Maxim shuts the door and walks away from me. Again. I run to the bathroom and am sick. I clean up and slide between the expensive sheets of our bed, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, and staring blankly at the wall. A deep, gravelly voice humming wakes me up early in the morning, and I turn to the baby monitor to see Maxim rocking Maksimilyan in his arms, humming a song. I don’t move; I just watch the two men I love most in the world. Maxim might be holding Maksimilyan in his arms, but it is obvious that Maksimilyan is the one holding Maxim together at the moment. The vulnerability is back in his eyes,

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and at this moment, I can see the real Maxim shining through, the man I fell in love with. “I hope you are a better man than me. Dimitri will be good to you,” he whispers. I can’t help myself. I sob. I listen to him list all of the reasons it would be better for him to leave us again, and I cry, harder and harder. That damn bastard. Doesn’t he know that the best father Maksimilyan could have is the man holding him at this exact moment, a man who knows he isn’t good enough to be his father. A man I know is perfect for the job. The next morning, Maxim is gone. Dimitri informs me that he has gone to see Pasha. I don’t bother asking when he will return. I doubt that he will. Mariya is sweet, shy, and hardly speaks English. I can tell by being around her, for just moments, that she will be a good addition to this house of misfits. I hope that we can be friends. I now believe that she is truly

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Maxim’s sister. Their eyes are almost the exact same shade of blue, and every once in a while, one of her expressions mirrors his in a way that makes me laugh. I dress Maksimilyan and pack a picnic lunch for the two of us. I cannot sit in this house all day and stare at the front door waiting for my asshole husband to come home and be mean to me again—to treat me like nothing again. Maksimilyan and I are lying on a blanket; well, Maksimilyan is sleeping and I am enjoying the sun shining down on my body when there is a rustling behind me. I look up to see Maxim watching us. I smile softly; he nods when he sees me, and then he turns and walks away. I am under no illusion that he will be inside of our home when I return. He has already tried to sabotage us by treating me poorly, but doesn’t he realize he can’t

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sabotage what is meant to be? That is what Maxim and I are, meant to be, and we both know it. The house is quiet when I return from the picnic and I walk through different rooms, looking for Mariya and Dimitri. I find them in Dimitri’s office, looking sullen, and I know that he is gone. It is like death. He is leaving me all over again; my son will not have his father, which also means that I will not have my husband. “He is gone?” I ask. The two people look up at me and nod slowly. “Did he give you divorce papers to deliver to me?” I ask Dimitri. He closes his eyes and nods. “Do you know where he is in Moscow?” Dimitri snaps his head up to mine and his eyes meet mine questioning. “That man loves me and I know he loves Maksimilyan. He sang to him for hours when everybody in the house slept. Sure, he has

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treated me like shit, but I know it was to push me away. I am not giving up on him, not now and not ever,” I state firmly. Dimitri opens his mouth, but Mariya beats him by speaking first. “Go bring Maxim home,” she states simply, her accent thick. I nod. “Will you set it up for me, Dimitri? I am going to call Pasha and Sonia to take care of Maksimilyan while I am gone.” Wisely, Dimitri doesn’t say a word as he starts making phone calls. My crazy half-cockamamie plan is in place. All I know for certain is that I am going to fly to Moscow and try to get my husband to come back with me. I already know that he will try to reject me, but it is up to me to be stronger than he is, to be strong for the both of us. Maxim is mine and I am his.

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He fucking bought me, dammit, and I will not allow him to throw me away like garbage.

THE PRIVATE JET LANDS

ten hours later in a small Moscow airport. The pilot, a friend of Pasha’s, hands my bags to me and walks away, leaving me standing out in the cool night air alone. I watch hesitantly as a black Audi pulls up beside me, the headlights beaming. A very tall, dark-haired man steps out. When my eyes meet his, I instinctively take a

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step back from him. He is frightening, and not in the way that Maxim is. No, in just one look, I can tell that this man is more dangerous than any man I have ever laid eyes on. His eyes flick over my body in annoyed boredom. With a tight lip, he speaks. “Mrs. Lasovska?” he asks, his accent thick and hardly understandable. “Yes, I am Haleigh Lasovska,” I say with false bravado. This man could snap me like a twig and he wouldn’t even work up a sweat. He takes a step toward me and I hold my breath as he snatches my bags from the death grip I have on them before he shoves them inside the empty trunk. He then walks over to the backseat of the car and opens the door, narrowing his eyes when I don’t move fast enough to his liking. I take him in again as he walks toward the driver’s side of the car. I notice that he looks about my age, but his eyes have seen far too much in their lifetime.

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“You do not look like ballerina,” he remarks, speeding off toward my unknown destination. “I haven’t danced in almost two years. Maxim did not wish me to continue after our marriage, and then I had a baby six months ago,” I inform him. He just nods, but it is a jerk of his head and that concerns me. “You have baby?” he asks. His English is surprisingly good for living here in Russia. “Yes, Maksimilyan. He looks exactly like Maxim,” I offer with a smile. The driver opens his mouth and then closes it just as quickly. I want to ask him what he wants to say, but I do not want to push him. I can only imagine he does not like to be pushed or questioned in the slightest. The rest of the ride is silent. About fortyfive minutes later, we pull up to a very nice apartment building, nicer and newer than anything I could have imagined being in Russia. I am very uneducated on Russia and

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Moscow and about how the people live. All I have ever heard were the few stories Maxim had told me about the orphanage and his childhood on the streets. “Come,” the driver barks, and I realize I don’t know his name. “What is your name?” I ask as we walk inside. He goes straight to the elevator. He slides a key card into a slot and punches the penthouse button; of course, Maxim would have the penthouse. “Alex,” he says not looking at me but looking straight ahead as the elevator quickly flies to the top of the tall building. The doors open and I am taken aback by the modern gorgeousness that is presented in front of me. The floors are a slick hardwood; low black sofas, a gigantic television, and modern pieces of art are scattered around the living area. I step out of the elevator and expect Alex to follow, but he doesn’t. He simply nods as

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the doors close, leaving me completely alone inside of this modern penthouse apartment. I see something in the middle of the room and I walk toward it, almost vomiting at the sight of what is being proudly displayed in the middle of my husband’s living room. It is a stripper pole. A. Stripper. Pole. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest as images of naked women wrapping themselves around the pole, my husband sitting just inches from their perfect bodies, fill my head. I want to cry, but I am so freaking sick of crying. I will not cry. I am here for one thing and one thing only, to bring my husband home. The room is silent and then I hear voices coming from one of the hallways. I decide I need to find Maxim. This ends now and I cannot be too far away from Maksimilyan for any length of time.

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I can hear the echo of my heels clicking down the hallway. They sound loud as I walk toward the back of the apartment and I wonder if Maxim, and whoever is the other voice, can hear me. I take a deep breath, standing at what I assume is his closed bedroom door, and I say a silent prayer that what I find will not break my already weak heart entirely. I turn the knob and gasp at the sight. “The fuck?” Maxim roars. I just stand there, unable to blink, to look away, to do anything at all, whatsoever. Maxim is sitting in a chair, clothed—thank God—while a completely naked woman straddles his thighs, rubbing herself against his crotch. Her legs are spread wide open on either side of him, her hands are on her clit while Maxim’s hands are on her breasts. I stand a little taller and narrow my eyes.

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“You speak English?” I ask the very gorgeous blonde girl. She is tall and thin; her long blonde hair is on my husband’s chest. “Yes,” she says, taking her hand from her crotch. Maxim has not moved his hands, and I narrow my eyes at him. The pig. “Get your pussy off my husband,” I growl, using a word I have never once said aloud. The scene before me evokes some raw side of me that I cannot hold back. “Come on. I call you later, yeah?” Maxim offers with a nod. She nods back at him as Maxim pats her ass. I watch stoically as she scrambles to get dressed, and I don’t say anything until I hear the click of the door signaling she is gone. “Why are you here? I give you what you want, a divorce.” His voice is slurred, and he

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struggles to stand, his body swaying. The drunken bastard. “You didn’t give me what I wanted, Maxim,” I sigh, walking over to him to help him to the big king-size bed, his hand wrapping around my waist. “I give you everything I had in America—my house, my money, my son, and I give you divorce so you can marry Dimitri,” he whispers. I want to slap him, but I don’t. Instead, I take a step back and just look at him. “Do you love me, Maxim?” I try a different approach. He is looking for a fight, an excuse to push me away, but I won’t give that to him, not anymore. He narrows his eyes at me a bit, and when I don’t shift my gaze, when I hold his and do not fold under his false intimidation, he sighs heavily. “This does not matter.” His focus is gone, and he closes his eyes, as if using his brain

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and telling me his feelings are too freaking taxing. I decide Maxim is a man of action. Words do not come easily to him. I slide my shoes off my feet and slowly remove my tank top. Then I slide my shorts down my legs, leaving me in only a bra and a pair of panties. Maxim licks his lips at my nakedness, and I know that despite the pretty, perfect, young thing that was just in here, he is focused solely on me at the moment. “Do you love me, Maxim?” I whisper my voice husky and dripping with want as I move to take my bra off. Maxim’s eyes focus on my breasts and then my lips before he licks his own again. “Haleigh,” he growls. I unhook my bra and let it fall down my arms. Maxim clenches his fists at his sides so I go in for the kill. I hook my panties with my thumbs and pull them down my legs, leaving me completely exposed and vulnerable.

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“Maxim, do you love me?” I take the steps I need to be right in front of his spread thighs, nestling myself between them. “Why are you here?” he murmurs, his gaze on my eyes. I smile softly. “Because I love my husband. I do not want another. I want my Maxim. Tell me you love me, baby,” I whisper. As if that word is some kind of trigger, he wraps his hands around my waist tightly, certainly bruising my skin, and I revel in it. “Of course, I love you, golubushka. Only you,” he groans. I feel his tongue swirl around my nipple before he sucks it between his perfect teeth and lightly bites down. My hands fly into his hair and I arch my back, pressing my chest toward him. Maxim licks and kisses my breasts, lightly nipping them with his teeth. Then he kisses down my body, my stomach, and my hips. He falls to his knees, and his blue eyes

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clash with mine, his tattooed hands wrapping around my hips. “I am on my knees for you, golubushka. I have never been on my knees for another person in my life. You have brought me here more times than I can count. It is against my nature to bow to a woman, but here I am. I have fucked up. I have done things I am not proud of and I have hurt you more than I could ever know. I am sorry,” he almost moans. His eyes water and everything else melts away. I fall to my knees in front of him and hold is cheeks in my hands. “We have been through hell, Maxim. It would be smart to walk away from each other, but I cannot let you just walk out of my life, out of our baby’s life. I love you, Maxim. You don’t bow to me. We bow to each other. As long as we stick together, share this life, the good and bad together, without pushing each other away and purposely hurting each other, then we can come out on the other

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side happy,” I say pleadingly, hoping he is hearing me. Maxim nods and his lips lightly brush against mine—once, twice and then he thrusts his tongue inside of my mouth and I moan at the contact, my fingers wrapping in his hair and lighting tugging on the strands. “Will you accept me back, after all I have done? I will spend the rest of my life making everything right, making it up to you. I am so sorry,” he whispers, so lightly, so softly, that I almost don’t hear him. I am a foolish woman. I will always forgive my Maxim of his sins. “No more women, Maxim,” I mutter as his fingers slide through my damp core. “Nyet, no more, Haleigh. There have been no other women and there will never be again.” He thrusts two fingers deep inside of me, and I spread my thighs farther apart as I arch my back, throwing my head back at the roughness of his touch. I revel in it.

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“Come on my fingers, angel moy, my good girl,” he rasps as his thumb swirls and presses against my clit. I grind down on his hand, my body searching for the release only he can give me, and I come hard, my core pulsing around his fingers, which are buried deep inside of me still; his eyes intent on watching me ride out my orgasm. “Will you make love to me, Maxim?” I ask, my voice as shaky as my thighs. Maxim gulps as he slides his hand from my body and picks me up, carrying me to the bed then laying me down. He's so gentle and sweet I could cry, but I won’t. No more tears will fall from my eyes. I finally have all that I need in this life. My Maxim and my Maksimilyan, it is all I could need and want. I watch in rapt anticipation as Maxim slowly strips the clothes from his body. Standing in front of me, his tattoos litter his

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tanned skin and his eyes shine with love. My heart mends; it knows exactly where it needs to be, and that is here with my Maxim. He slides up my body, his lips touching every inch of my skin; his long, thick cock rests against my hip as his lips suck and lick, and his teeth bite my neck. “Baby,” I groan, gently thrusting my hips toward his body. He moans at my word, a simple word, but it is the way I feel when he calls me golubushka—loved and wanted. “Take me,” he rasps, as he slides inside of my pussy, hot and thick, stretching me. He gently nudges my thighs wider as he spreads his knees, his hands wrapped around my hips. “Maxim,” I gasp as he pulls me up so that my ass is resting on his thighs. “I want to watch you take me, Haleigh. I want to see how beautiful your pussy looks when it wraps around my cock. This pussy was made for my cock, and no matter what

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has happened in the past, this pussy will only take my cock from this day forward, do you understand me?” he moans, as I fist the sheets at my side. My eyes never leave Maxim’s determined gaze; his jaw is set and he looks pissed. “My body is yours, Maxim. It has always been yours, and it will always be yours. Do with it what you wish because it is yours to do with as you please,” I groan the last word as Maxim pulls out and pushes himself completely inside of me, his face sweating, his jaw grinding, and his breath heavy. “I want to fuck you hard, golubushka. I want to come inside of your body and fill you with another baby. Will you accept me as I am, Haleigh? No matter what this life hands us, will you stay with me?” his asks, his eyes wild and his jaw still set hard and grinding. Reassurance. The man is inside of me, and he wants reassurance?

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I have come here for him, and already, I am questioning my sanity. I reach up and wrap my hands around his cheeks, firmly holding him, feeling the strained muscles in his face as he stays stalk still, rooted deep inside of me. “I am yours, Maxim. I was born for you, only you. No other man can have me because you will not let them get me again, will you? I am yours to love, to put babies inside of, and to fuck until I cannot walk.” Maxim growls and then something inside of him snaps. I almost praise Jesus because the man loses all control and begins to wildly thrust in and out of my body, pounding himself inside of me, assaulting me with fast, deep strokes. I love every single second of the deliciously hard torture he is giving me. I can feel my breasts bouncing each time he roots deep inside of me. His cock hitting me at the perfect angle. My orgasm comes

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hard and in a rush, causing me to scream as I come for the second time in one evening. Maxim doesn’t stop moving in and out of me, his punishing pace continuing throughout my entire orgasm. Then he pulls out of me and flips my body over. Lifting my hips, he slides deeper inside from behind. My body is limp and sated as he continues to fuck me so hard, I wonder if I will ever walk the same way again. Maxim finally stills inside me, and I feel his cock swell and then pulse as he fills me with his cum. I close my eyes and just accept what he is giving, accept his cum as it fills me, the only way he can. Maxim kisses my shoulder as he lowers his body against my back, his hips still moving slightly, lazily, in and out of me. “I never want to leave your body,” he mutters against my shoulder. “Stay forever, baby,” I whisper back, my body sweaty, my hair tangled and damp.

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“I couldn’t stay away even if I tried. I love you, golubushka. I will take care of you and our son. I will give you everything you could want,” he promises. His words are so sweet and sincere, but they are not exactly what I wish to hear. “All I want is you, Maxim. Money and things don’t mean anything if I am roaming around that big house all alone and you are not sleeping at my side every night,” I admit. Maxim wraps his arms around my torso, one arm around my breasts the other at my neck, and I feel him inhale and exhale deeply against my back. “I am yours. Never will you sleep alone, golubushka. Never will you wish I were beside you because I will forever be at your side, from now until death,” he states. I blink back the tears and finally, finally … I smile.

MAXIM AND I PASS out after making love once more, slower and sweeter than the first time. We are tangled with each other, our bodies wrapped up in the sheets, when I hear yelling from the front of the apartment. Maxim stands up and slides his pants on over his hips, grabbing a gun from the bedside table as I pull the sheets over my body. I am

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groggy from the flight and the all night sex-athon. A man stands in the doorway of our bedroom. He is as big as the doorway itself and my breath catches at the sight of him looming in the room. He is huge, dark-haired, dark-eyed, and powerful. His blue eyes flick over me, and he begins to rapidly speak Russian to Maxim; unfortunately, I do catch one word that I know. Blyad. Whore. “Nyet. Mudak.” The man’s eyes narrow at Maxim before he speaks again. He looks back and forth between Maxim and me, seeing something, though I am not sure what exactly he sees. His presence makes me uncomfortable. I can tell this man is bad. He isn’t the kind of bad you swoon over. No, he is the kind of bad you avoid eye contact with and cross the street for. He is the kind of bad that would trample whoever got in his way and he wouldn’t even feel bad about it. I can tell all

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of that from the cold, blank stare of his eyes. As suddenly as he entered the room, he nods at Maxim and walks out, taking the chill out of the room with him. “I must go, Haleigh. You will stay here until I am able to come back. Do not leave this apartment. Do not venture outside at all, whatsoever,” he orders, making me gulp and nod. “How long will you be gone, Maxim?” my voice is quiet, and I cannot help the tremble of fear that is there. “Probably all day and well into the evening,” he says, his eyes full of regret and concern. “I cannot stay here in Russia for too long. I have to get back to Maksimilyn. Pasha and Sonia are watching him, but I only have enough milk for four days,” I say quietly. Wishing I didn’t have to tell him. Wishing we could stay in our happy little bubble for a few moments longer. He nods and

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closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “When I come home tonight, we figure all of this out, yes? I meant it when I said that you will never spend another night alone in your bed, golubushka.” I nod and give him a shaky smile as he pulls a shirt on over his shoulders and buttons it, then a new pair of slacks up and over his hips. “Aren’t you going to shower, Maxim?” I wrinkle my nose, trying to change the subject. Maxim takes a few steps toward me and sits down on the bed, his hand cupping my cheek. “I want to smell you on me while I am working. I want you close to me.” He gently kisses my lips, my cheek, and then right below my ear, causing me to shiver.

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“Be safe with whatever it is you have to do,” I say. His lips immediately go to a thin line and he nods. “Ya vas lyoblyo, I love you.” His words are nothing but a whisper, but his eyes are screaming with their meaning as he looks at me. “I love you, too,” I say softly. He nods once and turns to leave. I decide to take a bath, call Sonia to check on Maksimilyan, then lounge while I am here, locked inside of the apartment for the day. I honestly cannot remember the last time I just relaxed. I make Maxim dinner and wait for him to come back, but he doesn’t. Much later, I slide into bed, alone, and I pray that what we talked about, what we planned, wasn’t all a dream—wasn’t all smoke. I pray he meant what he said when he told me that he loved me and would always be by my side. I fall asleep as I think

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about the fact this is the first broken promise of many. Will he just disappear—leave me alone with nothing but his son, a pile of money, and a broken heart again? I feel something hot and heavy pushing against half of my body. I try to roll away, but it pins me to my spot. I moan, my eyelids prying open to see Maxim’s face, slack with sleep, is resting on my chest. Hope stirs inside of me—he came back. I run my fingers through his hair and sigh like a schoolgirl. He came back to me—my Maxim. He moans in his sleep and tightens his arm around my waist, then nuzzles the side of my breast. His tongue sneaks out and lightly licks my skin, then he nips it with his teeth. “I thought you were asleep,” I say, my voice rough and low. “I was, but my wife is very tempting,” he grumbles, his voice rough with sleep as he

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presses his hips against my leg, where I feel his hardening length. It makes my belly clench and my body yearn for his touch. “We need to talk, Maxim,” I rasp as he nips my breast again. “We talk after we come,” he murmurs with a smile as he looks up at me. He looks almost boyish and I can’t help but smile, reaching up to run my fingers through his thick hair again. He turns his head and kisses the inside of my wrist. “My beautiful, sweet wife, will you let me make you come?” he asks. I shiver at his words and open my legs as my answer. He’s right; we can talk after we come. Maxim’s chest rumbles as he slides his fingers through my already wet core. He pushes two fingers inside of me slowly, his mouth still on my breast, licking and nipping everywhere but the place I want him most. I push my hips up as they search for relief, for pleasure, for him.

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Maxim grabs my waist and rolls over so that he is on his back and I am now straddling his hips. Slowly, his hands slide up my sides to cup my breasts, his hard length lying on his belly with my wet center resting against it. I want to rub myself like a cat, to find my release. “Ride me, Haleigh. I want to watch your body above me. I want you to be in control for a bit.” His fingers pinch my nipples hard, and I gasp with pleasure, my center flooding against his hard cock. I lift my hips as he guides himself inside me. I slowly slide down, taking all of him inside of me. I groan at the full feeling. I want to be still, I want to take him in and just hold him there, but my instincts and lusty body want something entirely different as I lift up and glide back down, slow and steadily. One of Maxim’s hands clamps down on my hip as he tries to speed my movements up while the other fists in my hair pulling it

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tightly. The pain radiates through my scalp, urging me to go faster as the bite of his torment turns me on even more. My back arches and my breasts thrust out while my downcast eyes focus solely on his. “Such a good girl. Fuck, angel moy,” he rasps as his hand slides from my hip to between my cheeks. He slowly and gently massages my rear entrance as I moan at the slight pressure. Then I feel one of his fingers slide inside, filling me from behind while his hips thrust up as I grind down. “Maxim,” I cry out. The hand in my hair pulls tighter, sending pleasure through my body. It is too much. It feels too good. He is all around me, inside of me every way possible, and before I know it, I am crying out and shaking violently with my orgasm. Maxim doesn’t stop thrusting inside of me, with his cock or his finger, even after I

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come. The only way my body is staying upright is by the hand fisted in my hair, holding me in place. He growls, and I look down at him as sweat drips from his forehead and chest, his jaw clenched and the muscles of his body strained. It looks as though his tattoos are going to come to life, he is so taut. “Who am I, Haleigh?” he grinds as he takes me roughly. “Maxim,” I sigh. His finger slams inside of me from behind, causing me to cry out and my back to bow even more. “Who else? Who am I to you?” his voice growls. I gasp. “My husband, my lover,” I cry out. Maxim hums his approval, but his finger is rougher, pumping in and out of me while his cock punishes my pussy. I can feel myself building toward another release. My body begins to tremble again.

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“You better fucking come again, Haleigh. You better do it telling me who in the motherfuck I am,” he demands. The sweat is pouring off him and my center begins to pulse and quiver as I come again. “Oh, baby, I love you,” I scream as I climax. Then Maxim stills, his finger deep inside of my ass, his dick deep inside of my pussy, and he comes—hard. His cock pulses as my center does the same, together, so perfect. “Fuck, yes. I am your baby. I am your husband. I am your owner—and you will never be without me,” he murmurs as he slowly slides his finger from me. The hold on my hair loosens and my body, unable to stay upright, falls onto his chest, my face nuzzling in his sweatdampened neck. “I love you,” I moan against his neck. Then I move my head to kiss the handle of

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his dagger tattoo, one of my favorites, and I don’t even know why. “Now, we talk,” he announces. I try to slide off him, but his hands clamp on my hips. “Maxim, you’re still inside of me,” I laugh slightly. He pushes his hips up. “I stay inside. I stay home when we talk, yes?” When he says it like that, his accent thick and his English broken, how can I deny him anything? I can’t. “When will you move home then?” I ask, my hand stroking the blade of his dagger on his opposite shoulder. “It is not so easy. I work here now. I cannot just pick up and leave. I have a position of power and Dimitri took over my position with Pasha and my business.” He says this like it makes perfect logical sense. “I’m sure Pasha can bring you back and Dimitri can just go somewhere else in the

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company,” I offer. He shakes his head and wraps his hand around the nape of my neck, massaging me and adding light pressure to force my head up—my eyes on his. “It is not so simple, golubushka. I am not just a businessman. I never wanted to tell you, I never wanted you to know, but you must, now,” he says. My whole body goes tight. I am so confused and it is not just his accent, it is everything he is saying. What is so hard about coming back home and what is he into? “I am Bratva, Haleigh,” he says. It sounds like a type of confession, but I don’t understand it. “Mafia, golubushka, I am Brigadier—authority, a captain. I am also a businessman, a collector of debts, a gun tradesman, and in charge of new recruits,” he admits. I gape at him and then I sit up and look at all of his tattoos. Strategically placed on

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his body, they are all the same blue color. Then it dawns on me—each one has a meaning, and they tell a story. Dimitri has tried to hint these things to me, as has Sonia, that these men are different. That I will never know exactly what Maxim has gone through in his life. I just never thought it would be something so dangerous, so bad, and so wrong. It hits me like a freight train—he is a collector of debts. Is that what I was, a debt to collect? “I see you are understanding some things now, angel moy. I never wanted you to know what I did. You understand now why I cannot just go back to Pasha? My new Pakhan, my boss, will not just allow me to leave. I have proven loyal in the past year. They do not care my family resides elsewhere. They will just expect you to come here if you wish to reside with me,” he says.

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I can see some anger starting to flare in Maxim’s eyes, but I won’t let him be angry. I am not angry. He was a poor young boy, and he did what he had to for survival. I am confused and hurt that I am just finding this out, but I am not angry. “The men who took me?” I ask cupping his cheeks as my eyes search his. He closes his eyes in shame, and it is then that I know he needed to survive. My husband is a survivalist. “I make promises I never imagined would come to life. I never meant to hurt you, golubushka. I will not ever again. I thought if I leave you, if I go away, then you can be happy. I have done nothing but bring pain and shame to you. I made the deal for my own safety, but it should have never been made. Our soldiers are not few. The group that made the deal with me when I was young is just affiliate of my own. I have not uncovered exactly who leads them, but I will.

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When I do, I will disassemble them,” he vows. I chew my lip and nod, but I do not agree. Not really. He may have brought a whole mess with him when he came to me, but I have had many good memories and I would not trade them for the world. “You don’t bring me pain, baby. You breathe life into me. Without you, I was nothing but an overworked ballerina. I was lonely and desperate to begin a life—any life. Did you ever wonder why I just agreed to marry you without ever meeting you? “It was partly because my parents demanded it, but also because I was craving something more. I got all I ever wanted and more, so much more, with you,” I whisper. Maxim rolls us over so I am underneath his body, and he gently thrusts into me. He is hardening again, and I whimper at the tender flesh of my center, but I love the slight pain he offers. What I adore even more

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is the love shining in his eyes like never before; it fuels my desire. “You come to Russia. Will not be forever, angel moy. We make more babies and be happy here, I swear it.” His voice dips lower, huskier, and I wrap my legs around his back. “I will follow you anywhere, Maxim.” I sigh, with a hitch of my breath. He growls before he pauses above me. “I am not good man, Haleigh. My jobs are not honorable. They are not legal. I could go to prison, again. I have been before,” he admits, his blue eyes ice and focused. I cup his cheeks and slide my nose along the side of his. As if I hadn’t already figured out that the things he does are not legal, talks of guns and debts ensure that his job is not legitimate, but I appreciate the confession just the same. “You are a good man, Maxim, and sometimes good men have to do bad things to survive. I will never hold anything you do

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outside of our home against you. As long as you are good to our children and me, I will forever be at your side, no questions asked,” I say softly. Maxim withdraws and slides deep inside me again; his motions soft and slow. “I never mistreat you again, Haleigh. I never lay my hand on you in anger again. I never touch another woman again. Only you, golubushka. I swear this to you. You will see, moya koroleva,” he mutters, nuzzling my neck before he whispers the translation of his last words—my queen. I come almost immediately, and Maxim buries his length inside of me with his face against my neck, crying out as he climaxes, his hands wrapped in my hair. We fall asleep with plans to go back to America and bring our Maksimilyan back to a new home in Moscow.

“MAXIM, WE CANNOT GO back

to that apartment,” I mutter as the plane takes off toward home, toward our baby. “Why not?” he asks. There is a grin playing on his lips. I want to slap him, but he’s too cute and obviously happy, so I don’t—I refrain.

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“I will not bring my son into a home with a stripper pole in the living room,” I practically screech. Maxim throws back his head with laughter. I just stare at him. I have not seen him laugh often and each time it mesmerizes me. “Calm down, angel moy. I talk to Radimir, my boss, he already has a big penthouse apartment in the business district for us. Perfect for small family,” he offers, sliding his hand over mine and pulling it to rest on his thick thigh. “He owns the building, golubushka. It is actually supposed to be my penthouse, but I turned it down to live in the other one. I was drunk all of the time and it was a home for a family, not a single man. It was depressing, but now, I take my family there and all is well.” “The other women, Maxim … I just have to know. You said there wouldn’t be any

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others, but you said that to me once,” I confess to the fears that consume my thoughts. Maxim’s hand cups my cheek and his thumb traces my bottom lip. “I never had sex with another woman. You are the only woman I have been inside of since the Catia mess. I know you do not trust me yet, Haleigh, but I swear to you, there will be no other women ever again. There is only you. There will only ever be you from now until death. I was stupid and selfdestructive,” he admits, nodding. I lick the tip of his thumb. “All right, baby,” I whisper. He grins; it’s the second time in less than an hour that he has smiled, and it is then that I feel truly blessed. This badman. He owns me in more ways than he can ever know. I relish in the fact that I am indeed owned by the badman.

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Arriving back in the United States, I feel a twinge of sadness. This will not be my home much longer. I have only ever known New York, the city, and then Maxim’s refuge in the country. I hope that I will be able to learn the language and navigate Maksimilyan and myself without being a burden to Maxim. We walk toward my flashy SUV, a gift that I thought for months Maxim sent to me when Maksimilyan was born. Later, Dimitri confessed he purchased it for me. I hated the sight of the car for weeks but later decided it wasn’t the luxury cars fault my husband was behaving like an asshole. Maxim slides the keys from my hand, ushering me into the passenger seat, buckling me in with a soft brush of his lips on my cheek. My heart skips a beat at the gentle gesture.

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“Where is Maks?” he asks, starting the engine. I smile at the nickname Maxim has already given his son. I like it, and I vowed the day he was born that nobody would call him anything but Maksimilyan. But when his father calls him Maks, it is perfect. “Pasha and Sonia’s. I miss him so much,” I admit. Maxim takes my hand in his, gently squeezing my fingers together before threading them with his. When we arrive at Pasha and Sonia’s, the house is lit brightly, no doubt in anticipation of our arrival. I practically run to the door as Pasha swings it open and envelops me in a huge fatherly hug. We have become close since Maxim left, and he is like a father to me, the father I have never truly had. He steps back and wraps his hands around my shoulders, looking me over, and his lips thin as his eyes narrow.

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“You are happy, but not. Tell me what that man did to you?” “I have done a lot to her, old friend, but she is mine, and so is Maks, to do with as I wish,” Maxim states. Pasha looks behind me, and he smiles widely. “Thank fuck,” he breathes as he ushers us inside. He then claps Maxim on the back and speaks softly in Russian to him. Only a moment passes before Sonia comes down the stairs with Maksimilyan in her arms. I run over to them and take my son, nuzzling his little neck and smelling the sweet scent of baby. “Mommy missed you, little love,” I whisper peppering his little round cheeks with kisses. “He was such a good boy for Aunt Sonia, weren’t you, little Maksimilyan?” Sonia lightly touches his blond hair before turning her attention on Maxim.

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“You got him back. He looks happy,” she says softly, so as not to let Maxim hear her. I smile widely, foolishly. “He is happy. Then again, so am I. My family is together, but Sonia, I have news,” I confess, chewing on my bottom lip in worry as her eyes turn back to mine. She frowns slightly. “Tell me.” Her voice is sharp, and I inhale a ragged breath before I tell her that we are moving to Moscow. “This is what you want?” she asks. I look down at Maksimilyan, and I know that this is right. “I want my husband. I want him to be a true husband, and I will do whatever I have to do to make the best of this life I have been dealt. I love him and he loves me, so yes, this is what I want,” I affirm. Sonia nods, her perfectly styled short blonde hair unmoving. “There is a knowledge in your eyes that was not there before you left. I assume you

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now know who and what we all are?” She presses her red painted lips together, and I nod. “You are a good woman, Haleigh. I was unsure when I met you two years ago, but you have proven to be much stronger than I ever anticipated. Maxim is lucky to have you at his side, and I am lucky to call you friend. “This life will not be easy, but you will make it beautiful for him. For a man who has had nothing but ugly, he surely deserves beauty. From being owned to being the owner, and you do own him, beautiful girl. “It is breathtaking to see the transformation from the young man I first met years ago to the man looking at you like if he blinks, his good fortune will be over and he will be a lost soul again.” Sonia wraps her arms around me and pulls me in for a hug. “I am only a telephone call away, and we will visit. We go to Moscow at least twice a

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year, so you will still see us,” she whispers as I choke back the tears. Maxim chooses this time to walk up behind me, his hand sliding around my waist. Maksimilyan sees him and holds out his arms. Maxim looks taken aback but gently takes his son from my arms. Maksimilyan lays his head down on Maxim’s shoulder as he wraps a tiny baby arm around his neck, like he knows this is where he is supposed to be; as if he recognizes that this man is a part of him, his flesh, his blood, and his father. It is the most beautiful sight I have ever seen in my life. Maxim’s big hand wraps around Maksimilyan’s diapered bottom, but his eyes are shining with unshed tears and I know he feels at peace finally. “We will see you. Be happy,” Pasha says, choking back his own unshed tears. With that, we walk out of their home.

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We are on our way to beginning a life, a life that should have started two years ago but was derailed by happenstance and circumstance. A life that not only brought past horrors to the present but also caused two hurt and broken people to evolve and fall in love. I have no doubt that had Maxim stayed, we would still be happy, but we would not truly understand how lucky we are to have each other and to have this life together. We will now forever fight for our happiness together, without even blinking. The house is quiet as we pull up and I look around for one of the last times, realizing that I was never truly happy here. I had moments of happiness, but as a whole, I wasn’t happy being here or living here. I belong at my husband’s side, being his support and raising our son and future children together. Once inside, I bathe and then feed Maksimilyan while Maxim watches with a small smile on his lips the entire time.

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“You go take a bath, angel moy. I put Max down.” Maxim takes the baby from me and places a soft kiss on my forehead. I do as he says and I go into our bedroom, filling the bathtub with bubbles and salts. I finally relax for the first time in what feels like my entire life. I let my mind float, and eventually, I fall asleep. I feel my body being lifted and I flail slightly at the flying sensation. I hear a shushing sound, and I recognize that it is Maxim; his heat surrounds me, and I burrow closer into his body. He drapes a towel over me, but I can’t seem to open my eyes. I feel like I am floating between conscious and unconsciousness. “How is Maksimilyan?” I ask drowsily as he dries my body on the bed, my eyes opening just a crack.

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“He sleeps, Haleigh, so perfect.” His voice is thick with emotion, and I slowly sit up in bed and look at him. Maxim has missed so much this past year, so much that he will never get back, but I am thankful he is here now. I can’t be upset about this situation. Had he not left, who knows what would have become of us. “Come to bed,” I whisper spreading my thighs for him, suddenly feeling awake and alive. This is the boldest move I have ever made. I trail my fingers down between the valley of my breasts and my stomach to my pulsing core. Maxim doesn’t move, but I watch as his hungry eyes darken and he licks his lips. “Did you touch yourself while I was away?” he asks, his voice deeper than before. “I did,” I admit. He shivers, sending jolts of pleasure through me. I made him shiver,

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and it makes me feel sexier than I ever have in my life. “Show me,” he rasps. I slide two of my fingers through my damp sex and then slowly dip them inside as Maxim moans from across the room, his hand wrapped around his cock over his suit pants. I slowly stroke myself, enjoying the way my body reacts to just having Maxim’s presence in my room. His eyes haven’t left my core, and it makes me feel desired, sexy, and like a woman. I lift my other hand off the bed and pinch my nipple as my thumb presses against my clit. “Stoy, stop,” he growls and throws himself at me, landing between my legs. Before I even realize what’s happened, he propels himself inside of me with one hard thrust. “Maxim,” I cry out, my fingernails digging into his back.

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“Fuck, yes, angel moy. Take my cock,” he yells as he roughly pushes inside of me, his arms sliding under my knees to spread my thighs up and wider. I am pinned and I love it. I let myself relax as I accept Maxim inside of me, to control me, to dominate me, and to love me. “You feel so good,” I groan as Maxim licks my neck before kissing it. Then he bites the flesh and I come, my center pulsing around him, trying to keep him inside, but he doesn’t stop. I know he must have drawn blood on my neck, but thinking about it makes my orgasm last longer. I know he is marking me, and I am relishing in it. Maxim mercilessly continues to move inside me, even after he comes. I find myself feeling so emotionally and physically connected to him at this moment, I don’t ever want to leave.

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“I love you,” he whispers, his blue eyes focused on mine as his hand smoothes my damp hair away from my face. “I love you too, Maxim,” I whisper back. Just as our mouths touch, there is a loud knock on the door. “Somebody better be fucking dead,” he growls sliding out of me. He tosses the bedding on top of my nude body before he drags his boxer briefs up his thighs. I watch as he yanks the bedroom door open, his hands on his hips, his tattoos on display, looking menacingly sexy. “How long will you be back this time?” I distinctively hear Dimitri ask. Maxim huffs. “We’ll be leaving in a few days. I will have movers pack what we do not take with us,” Maxim explains. A sound escapes Dimitri’s throat. It sounds like a whine or a growl, I’m unsure from where I sit, hidden in the massive bedding.

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“We?” “Yes. I take Haleigh and Maks with me,” Maxim explains. I hear Dimitri snort at that explanation. Maxim doesn’t like it; I can tell by the way the muscles in his back tighten. “You have problem with this?” “I do. If you are just going to discard her again, if you abandon your child again,” he says haughtily. I hear the unmistakable sound of flesh on flesh and then Maxim’s deep voice follows. “You are my friend, Dimitri, but this is not your business. My wife and child are coming home with me, and that is the way it is,” he barks, low and menacing. There is a shuffling sound, and I assume Dimitri is standing up from the ground. “She is your wife, but I have been caring for her for the past year when you were drinking vodka like water and fucking

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whores looking for Mariya. So since I took care of them, I would say yes, it is my business,” Dimitri’s voice is ice cold, and I have never, ever heard this tone from him before. It is frightening. “You go too far, friend, brother. I take my wife and son, and if you wish us to remain friends, you’ll not say another word about it.” “Does she know that you gave up your firstborn to the cause? That Maksimilyan is going to be taken, going to be a soldier? How will you stop them, Maxim? How will you keep them from taking your son? Then when you give her a daughter, how will you keep her from turning into Mariya, turning into a girl who has spread her thighs since she bled?” I gasp at his words as my stomach roils and I feel sick. Oh, my God. Those evil men are going to come after my baby and my

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future babies? I can’t and don’t hold back the tears that begin to fall from my eyes. “Get the fuck out of my room, Dimitri. You say another word about it, and make no mistake, brother or not, I will fucking tear off your cock with my bare hands and I’ll feed it to you before I gut you,” Maxim growls. Wisely, Dimitri doesn’t say another word, and I blink a few times, trying to process everything that Dimitri has said. “Are you all right, Maxim?” I ask tentatively through my tears. Maxim just rips the sheet from my body, his eyes full of fire. He frightens me, but I feel my belly clench with anticipation. “I will never let another person touch you, and I will never let anybody take Maks. Do you understand this?” he asks, sliding his boxer briefs down his legs. I decide to be wise and just nod my response. “This,” he grabs my core roughly, thrusting two fingers inside of me, cupping me.

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“Is,” he roughly pumps his fingers in and out, my body responding by growing wet. “Mine,” he growls, his hand gone and his hard length filling me. “Yours,” I moan, my hands flying into his hair. “No man touches what is mine,” he whispers dangerously, his voice barely there as he slides his hands under my ass to lift my hips up, holding me to him, fucking me hard and perfectly. “Only you, baby,” I groan, feeling my belly clench and my center begin to flutter around Maxim’s cock. “Take me. I fill you with my seed and plant another baby inside of you, golubushka. You are mine,” he growls before he makes good on his promise and fills me with his release, hot and warm. Suddenly, his thumb is at my clit and he begins to press against it, making circles until I come around his softening cock, making

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him groan at the feeling of my pussy pulsing around him.

“MARIYA, YOU WILL BE safer here than back at home, you must trust this,” I plead. My sister shakes her head. I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. Stubborn, foolish women—I am surrounded by them. Thank fuck I had a boy. “He will find me no matter what,” she insists.

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“That old man who had you will not find you, Mariya,” I state. She pauses and then throws her head back in laughter. I stare at her, unable to figure out what is so fucking funny about any of this. Haleigh, Maks, and I are due to leave in less than two hours and my sister is being difficult. “That lazy bastard is too busy trying to get his cock hard to care about one of his girls leaving,” she states. It makes me ill to think about. He had more? How did I not know this? “Just be clear, for once in this conversation can you just say what the fuck you mean,” I bark impatiently. Mariya eyes me and then sighs. “Ivan Chekhov, you fool,” Mariya hisses. I feel the blood drain from my face. Ivan Chekov is practically royalty in Russia. He is one of the most powerful, legitimate businessmen in the country. He is all

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over the television and news, and his children—the boy treated like a prince and the girl treated like a princess. Ivan Chekov is the owner of the largest oil, bank, and telecommunications companies in Russia. “Why would Chekov give a flying fuck about you?” I demand, my voice raised and anger peppering my vision. “You really have no clue, do you?” she asks, cocking her head to the side. I don’t respond. I just wait because she is being an emotionally difficult woman at this point. “Ivan Chekov is in charge of everything,” she whispers, her eyes wide. I notice fear in them, a fear I haven’t seen from her, even when I approached her in that shithole apartment. “Not of me. My Pakhan is Sergei Burak,” I explain.

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Not that she needs to really know that, but she isn’t talking and she knows more than most women as it is. It isn’t important to the conversation, but I think she may be going crazy. “Yeah, Sergei is in charge of your world, but Ivan Chekov is in charge of the whole underworld, the political world, and the business world. He rules it all, Maxim. He won’t want me alive. He will find me, and he will kill me, simply because I know too much,” she says, her eyes darting around in fear. I nod and then narrow my eyes at her, wondering how on earth I am just now hearing this shit from her. “How do you know these things, Mariya?” “He bought my virginity, Maxim. He enjoys fucking virgins and keeps them until he gets bored or until they grow into women, whichever comes first,” she admits softly. I know she didn’t want to divulge this

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information to her own brother, but it needed to be said. I swallow the bile down my throat, images of my too young sister being taken by a man three times her age makes me ill. It also makes me angry and irrational, but I try to control myself. I am of no use to anybody when I do not have full control over my body and mind. “Which were you?” I ask. I have to know. Why, I don’t know; maybe better motivation to torture the fucker. “I grew into a lovely woman, no? I stayed with him from the time I was eleven until the time I was sixteen. In those five years, he felt me incompetent. He held meetings and had phone conversations right in front of me, important ones. Make no mistake, Maxim, he will come for me. He checked on me regularly, and he will know I am missing.” I take in everything my sister has said. I tell her to go and relax, to spend some time

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with Haleigh before we depart. With a confused look, she does as I ask and leaves me alone with my thoughts. I call out to Dimitri and explain vaguely that my sister could be in danger and to keep the security tight around the estate. I don’t want to give up any names yet; I have some serious digging to do and the fewer people who know what I am investigating, the safer it will be—for everybody. “I will take care of this, Mariya. He will not get away with what he is doing,” I offer to her before we leave for Moscow. She nods and throws her arms around me. “Thank you, brother,” she cries into my neck. I awkwardly pat her on the back. The only woman I have ever allowed to freely touch me is my Haleigh and this is … strange. Sonia has hugged me on rare occasions, but this is different. This is emotional, and it feels good.

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Love has made me a pussy. Two hours later, we are on the plane—my little family and me—but my mind is elsewhere. My mind is on Ivan fucking Chekov. Does Sergei know what he is doing? Is he in on it? I have a feeling it is more than making barters with young parents and homeless children. It must be just the tip of the shit storm. Could Sergei and our army—the men who have been raised in this system, who have had lovers and children ripped from them—all overrule one of the most powerful people in Russia? Who can I trust? I know the answer to that question. That answer is unchangeable. No one. I can trust no one but myself. “I can hear your brain working. You are thinking too hard, Maxim. Is everything all right?” My beautiful little wife strokes my

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cheek with the backs of her fingers while my perfect son nuzzles between her breasts. The boy has the right ideas. “Just work, golubushka. Nothing for you to worry over,” I say softly, taking her hand and placing a kiss on her wedding ring. She nods but I can tell she is not convinced. My wife, she already knows me too well. I like that she can read my moods. I can be a surly bastard, so it is better for her to know when to stay away. Hours later, the plane lands and I see Alex— my kryshas—enforcer—is waiting for us. He looks pissed off, as usual, but I know he will be happy that I have calmed down and will be focusing solely on work from now on. He was getting annoyed with my bad moods. I help Haleigh off the plane and walk toward Alex, who is already loading our luggage into the trunk of the Audi.

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“Alex, you have met Mrs. Lasovska, yes?” He nods and tips his head at her, his steely eyes not hiding his hardened past. Alex spent his youth in prison in Moscow. He has been a soldier since before his balls dropped, and he has done and seen things no person ever should. He is a good man, though, and as trustworthy as a man can be in this dark world. He gives no shit and takes none. I like him a great deal. “You are right, Mrs. Lasovska. The boy does look like Maxim,” he says softly, surprising me. His grasp of the English language surprises me a great deal, as well. Without an education, I wonder where he has mastered the language. I usher Haleigh and Maksimilyan into the car and clap Alex on the back. “Where did you learn English?” I question him. His face turns red before he answers.

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“My lover. He is from London,” he admits. I throw back my head with laughter. “Does he live here in Moscow?” I ask. Alex jerks his head in what resembles a nod. “When Haleigh is settled, she makes dinner for you two. We have a quiet evening in and I meet your man,” I offer. Alex gapes at me in surprise and then he grins slightly and nods. Maybe I will change Alex’s duty to be my wife’s Byki—bodyguard. I know her fantastic tits will not distract him, and he will do his job perfectly. My little dove deserves the best, but I won’t have some idiot ogling her at the same time.

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The penthouse is gorgeous. It is nothing like the last one, thank goodness, or even like Maxim’s home in the states. Soft grays, creams, and splashes of light turquoise decorate the space—a dream come true. Maxim ushers us in but then tells me that he must meet with Alex to go over what he has missed with work since he has been gone. I don’t mind at all, and I decide to discover what other surprises await me in the apartment. Walking down the hall, I see a door and open it. I gasp, which startles Maksimilyan, and he giggles. The room is breathtaking and so very perfect. There is a crib against one wall and a changing table with a dresser on the opposite side. The walls are painted a soft bluish, gray, and it is serene. The crib bumper is made of a gray and white chevron print and a soft, mink fabric that feels luxurious against my fingertips. The sheet is a navy blue and

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the crib skirt is a solid gray. There is a basket on the floor full of stuffed animals, and I check the closet and gasp again. There are clothes in every size from nine months to five toddler, everything he could ever need or want. “Do you like it, golubushka?” Maxim asks, astonishing me. I twirl around to look at him. “How?” I ask, my eyes darting around the room. “I called one of my men’s wives. She helped me out while we were in America.” He shrugs. I cover my gaping mouth with my hand as my eyes fill with tears. “I love it, Maxim,” I whisper as the tears flow from my eyes. Maxim takes two long strides toward me and presses against Maksimilyan in my arms; one of his hands around my waist, the other cradling Maksimilyan’s soft head.

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“I will do anything for you, angel moy. Whatever you need, you have. Whatever you want, it is yours. I live to make you happy,” he says huskily. I press my forehead against his neck, inhaling his spicy masculine scent—my husband, my lover, and now, my friend. “Thank you, baby,” I whisper, knowing my words of gratitude will never be enough. “I had her leave the walls blank so you could decorate as you wish,” he says softly against my hair. I nod looking up at him, my throat thick with emotion. “You are too good to me, Maxim,” I whisper, my eyes searching him. He snorts. “I have been deplorable to you, golubushka, but I swore to you that things would change, that I would change, that I had changed. I love you and whatever is mine is yours. Whatever you need or want, I will provide it for you. This life, beginning

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right here and right now, is ours. It is new, and it is a start to something wonderful.” “Our new life is so beautiful, Maxim. It is beautiful because we are not only starting with Maksimilyan, but we are starting with honesty, love, and support,” I softly murmur. He nods as his fingers tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Now, Maxim, that being said. Something has been weighing heavily on my mind this past years and I think it is time to tell me exactly what happened to my parents,” I demand. Maxim’s face turns white, and for the first time, my Maxim is nervous and perhaps scared. I have not asked about my parents before now, because in all honesty I never wanted to see them again after my mother’s attack. Maybe I am selfish, or crazy, or I was just in denial but I was glad not to have to deal with them on top of everything else—my

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abduction, Maxim leaving, and Maksimilyan’s birth. If we are beginning with truth, with honesty, then I have to know. I never heard from them again after the night my mother assaulted me, and it has bothered me, how they just vanished, I honestly expected much more drama thrown my way. I haven’t missed them, not really, but I have been curious. Surely, Torrent would have come to me if something happened to them? Maxim slowly and nervously explains the night my own mother attacked me. Luckily, he doesn’t go into great detail, but he does freely admit that he killed my parents. I want to feel remorse for their loss of life, but I am finding it extremely hard. Maxim also divulges the truth on how I became his bride. My father owed him money, he owed him life, and he paid Maxim back with mine. I should be angry that I was sold like a prized animal at the fair, but I

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can’t be. That one split-second, selfish decision my father made has brought me so much more joy than I ever thought possible. “What happened with all of their belongings?” I ask, stroking his chest. Maksimilyan is asleep in his new crib, and we are lying on our king-size bed, wrapped in sheets, going over the dirty rotten details later that evening. “My men went in and cleared out the house. We sold or dumped their clothes, but I had them put anything personal in storage in case you ever wanted to go through it.” His voice sounds so clinical, and I can tell he doesn’t want me to go and look through all their crap. Neither do I. Except for my great-grandmother’s necklace brought over from France. I wore it on my wedding day, and I think I would like that one thing for myself.

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“No, thank you.” I shake my head slightly, and Maxim runs the back of his fingers against the side of my breast. “What about Torrent and the police?” His eyes slice to mine, and I know that whatever he has to say could possibly scare me. “The American police, they bow to me. Torrent nodded with understanding and left to places unknown. He knew who I was when I married you. He knew a lot and knows to keep his mouth shut.” I nod, understanding his words. Torrent is wherever a man goes when his bosses are murdered by the Bratva. He is probably serving some other family, most likely another rich family who will say too much in front of him. “You amaze me. I thought for sure you were going to despise me,” Maxim confesses. “Never, Maxim. I love you, and my parents were not upstanding members of

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society. I’m not sure I could have ever forgiven my mother for her actions or my father for selling me to you— even if it did end up being a good thing.” “Yes, but I am worse because I rid this world of them.” His voice is deep and husky. “You did, but it was not for greed or anything like that. It was because my mother attacked me, Maxim. She was not right in the head. Though you could have called the police, I would assume that it wouldn’t have mattered? Calling them?” I ask. Maxim licks my collarbone before speaking again. “You assume correct, golubushka.” He chuckles. Then, all conversation ceases as Maxim slides his shirt over my body and makes love to me the only way that he knows how. His body surges into mine hard, rough, and fast as I come around his perfect cock.

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and lonely, but Maksimilyan fills them with gurgles and sweet kisses while we wait for Maxim to come home. Some days he is home by five, others not until the wee hours of the morning, but he is working. Not once has he smelled like another woman, and he is always, always, trying to get inside of me. I never deny him. DAYS ARE LONG

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I want him just as badly as he wants me. I have never been so happy. Tonight, however, I am preparing for a dinner party. Maxim’s boss, aka: the scariest man on earth and his wife are coming over. Maxim tells me they both speak English fairly well, and although he doesn’t know the wife well, he believes we will get along. A pang of sadness fills me when I think about Sonia; I miss her and her friendship so much. I am dressed in a tight black scoop neck jersey dress that comes down to my knees and flatters my new curvy figure but doesn’t show off too much. I don’t want to look slutty for Maxim’s boss and his wife. Dinner is chicken kiev, a chicken breast flattened and rolled around a slice of butter and fresh parsley, breaded and deep fried; we'll also have a green salad, asparagus, potato wedges, and ptchie moloko for

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dessert, which is a cake with marshmallow filling topped with chocolate. Since being home with Maksimilyan, I have been practicing my cooking and wanted to make somewhat of a traditional Russian meal for Maxim’s boss. I want to impress them and I want them to like me. “Angel moy, I am home,” Maxim calls out as I am just finishing the dessert. The table is set, the food is finishing in the oven, and I have donned my pink high heels. I am ready. “Dobriy vyechyer,” I call out in a horrible Russian accent. I try to tell my husband good evening, but I know that I have botched the whole thing. “That was good, golubushka. I am very impressed,” Maxim praises. I beam up at him, proud that he is impressed with me. “Where is my son?” he asks, kissing my forehead as his hand grabs a handful of my ass.

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“Sleeping until our guests arrive. I wanted him to be rested.” I sigh as Maxim hums, his hand dipping lower, his index finger tracing the inside of my knee. I shift slightly, feeling that burning need begin to rise inside of me. It happens every single time my husband touches me. “They will be here soon,” I breathe. My voice is low, husky, dripping with sex and need. “Then we must hurry, angel moy,” he whispers in my ear. I hear his belt clink and the whoosh of the fabric as it lands on the stone flooring. My dress is lifted to my waist and my panties shoved to the side as Maxim enters me with one hard thrust from behind. I gasp before I moan at the feeling of his hard length deep inside of me. “Hold on to the counter,” Maxim demands.

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I do as he says, right before he slowly slides out of me. He then thrusts back inside, so hard, burying himself. It takes my breath away. One of Maxim’s hands slides around to the nape of my hair, tangling roughly in my perfectly curled blonde locks. He tugs my neck, my back arching, achingly, at the bowed angle, but it only fuels my fire. The jolt makes me wet, and I moan. “You look so fucking sexy right now. Your dress pulled up, your head pulled back, my cock deep inside of you—at my fucking mercy, my good girl. Mine,” he growls. I whimper, feeling my center clench around Maxim’s hard length, trying to keep him where I want him, but he is right—I am at his mercy, and I love it. Maxim doesn’t stop plunging inside me, slamming into me as hard as he can. His pure raw strength is more than perfect; he is more than perfect. The hand bruising my hip slowly reaches around, sliding down the

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front of my panties. He begins to lightly tap my clit with two fingers, sending jolts of electricity thrumming through my body. “I want you to come all over my cock, Haleigh,” he murmurs as his teeth sink into the flesh at the side of my neck. His fingers slap my clit one last time, and I do as he wills; I shatter, my body pulsing and my mouth opening to let out a noiseless scream as I fall down the rabbit hole of bliss. I don’t even know when Maxim comes. I am a mindless pile of flesh, my body resting against the granite countertop. “You are amazing, golubushka.” He kisses up the side of my neck, taking my earlobe between his teeth and lightly sucking on it as he pulls out of me and readjusts himself. “I better go clean up,” I say drowsily, trying to stand on my wobbly jelly legs. “Nyet, you will not,” Maxim barks as I readjust my dress. My wide eyes meet his and he just smirks.

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“Maxim, we’re having a dinner party. I cannot have you coming out of me all evening,” I say in horror. He throws back his head in laughter, hooking me around the waist and bringing me into his chest as his lips capture mine in a slow, soft kiss. “I like knowing my cum leaks between your legs. I like you to have a reminder of who you belong to, angel moy, especially with my boss here,” he mutters, kissing the tip of my nose. I huff and roll my eyes at my crazy, dominant, caveman husband. “Here, my mother told me wearing my hair down was vulgar, but she had no clue what vulgar was.” I wrinkle my nose and Maxim throws back his head and laughs again. I want to be irritated at his irrational words, but I can’t be, not when he laughs, as it is so rare. I just let him get away with whatever because it is such a beautiful sight.

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The bell rings, breaking me from my husband’s rare laughter moment. Maxim kisses my temple before winking and heading to the door. At the exact moment, I hear Maksimilyan crying out in his bedroom, so I let Maxim handle the guests while I tend to my sweet boy. Maksimilyan is giggling by the time I walk into his expertly decorated bedroom. I quickly kiss his round cheek before I change his diaper and his outfit. I walk into the living room to find Maxim serving drinks to our guests. Radimir and his model-gorgeous wife are standing, taking drinks from Maxim. Champagne for the wife, and vodka for Radimir. Maksimilyan claps sending each person’s gaze my way. Maxim smiles softly at us and walks straight to Maksimilyan, grabbing him and kissing his cheek, whispering words I don’t yet understand in Russian. I smile at our guests and introduce myself.

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“Hello, I am Haleigh Lasovska.” I hold out my hand and try not to tremble under the scrutinizing, terrifying gaze of Radimir. “Radimir,” he grunts. I turn to his wife—a tall, thin, light blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman with perfect curves. She almost looks as if she ordered them from a catalog. Her cheeks are thin and her features sharp, unlike my own rounded ones. “Klavdia,” she says, holding out her hand in a limp way. I know why she does it this way, it is so that men will kiss her hand, but I won’t. Instead, I loosely take it and kiss her on each cheek as my greeting. She gasps in surprise. I was raised by social climbers; I know what snooty people want and this bitch oozes snoot. She is no Sonia, that’s for sure. “This little man of ours is Maksimilyan.” Maxim beams proudly as he bounces our

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happy baby a few times, making his blue eyes twinkle. “Dinner is ready if you are hungry,” I offer. The stiff couple nods once before turning to go into the dining room. I give Maxim a side-glance, and he just shrugs and winks. Ass. The dinner is tense, to say the least, but as soon as the men begin to talk shop, I smile at Klavdia and try to engage her in conversation. I want to get along with the wife of Maxim’s boss. I know she isn’t Sonia, but I also know that with what these men do for a living, they need strong women behind them. “So, how long have you and Radimir been married?” I ask as she pushes her food around the plate, never taking a bite. She looks up at me and smirks. “We were joined four years ago. Like you, I was purchased. Radimir holds no affections for me, neither do I for him. He

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fucks who he wants and me who I want. Obviously, you and Maxim fuck, though, because you make baby.” She points at Maksimilyan, and I pale at her words. How did she know how Maxim and I came to be married? I don’t even know what to say to her. “Your husband told me one night after he fucked me with his fingers. The man is good. He was drunk as hell, though, so his cock wouldn’t work. I doubt he remembers, crying his little pity party to me about his little American wife.” The fork slips from my hand and clatters against the plate as I gape at her. The bitch and my fucking husband. I try not to get mad; I try so hard because I knew Maxim wasn’t completely faithful to me the year we spent apart. He told me that his cock hadn’t been inside of another woman since me, but I knew that for what it was. He was omitting.

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This, however—oh, hell no. This bitch is eating my food, sitting at my dinner table, telling me that my husband finger fucked her and how much she enjoyed it. “I can’t believe you just said that to me,” I whisper in shock. “What, did you think that he would not fuck around with another woman? You, little girl, need to wake up. These men, they are men, and they will fuck who they please. You do not ask questions and you do not get a say in what they do with their cocks. You stay home and take care of babies. You spend their money, but you do not ask questions.” She sounds like she knows from experience, and I suddenly feel sorry for her. Radimir does not love her. Hell, I doubt he even likes her, and it’s sad, but that doesn’t excuse what she’s saying to me. “Maxim and I aren’t like that. We are faithful to each other now. We are honest,” I say pleadingly. It sounds forced. She

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chuckles and I am surprised by the pleasant sound of her voice. “He lies to you, silly girl. Maxim will not keep his dick dry for long. So he fucks only you for a while until you trust him, to make his life here at home happy. He sacrifices. Soon, though, he lets a whore suck his cock, then maybe the next time he finger fucks her while she sucks, then he just gives up the fight and fucks her pussy before he fucks her ass. Then he comes home to you and fucks you on your back before he rolls over and goes to sleep,” she announces. If it didn’t hit so close to home, I might be offended. However, I still think that this woman is outrageous. I want to cut her, but I wonder if there is truth to that. Maxim was with Catia, and then whatever he did with other women while we were apart, so can he stay faithful to only me? The doubt is placed, and I hate it.

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“I’m sorry Radimir does not have affection for you. It must be difficult to live with a man and be married to him in name only.” I switch the focus of conversation to her and her sad life. “Radimir wants what I will not give him. It is my choice, and I am thankful to not have to shoulder the burden of fucking a man who wants to not only own me in name, but in the bedroom. He likes kinky sex, and he wants a slave girl. I am not that. He will have to go to America and find a little sad fat girl like you, then maybe he gets what he wants.” She smirks. I ball my hand into a fist. I want to punch her in the face, but Radimir is there before I am able to say another word, and he is furious. “You do not want to be owned by me anymore, Klavdia? Is good because I hate you. You actually fuck around with my righthand man when you know he was suffering,

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and then you tell his wife? I release you, and maybe I sell you. You will be penniless, and I will laugh at you. Go back to the whorehouse you came from. I tried to be good man for you and give you time to want me, to want what I have to offer you, but I am finished. You good-for-nothing whore.” He reaches back and slaps her across the face. My eyes go wide, and Maxim grabs Maksimilyan, taking him from the room. “Radimir, you misheard. I love you, only you,” she pleads, holding her cheek as fake tears pool in her eyes. “You love yourself and you love my money. You can have yourself, but my money stays. Maybe I will go to America and find a gorgeous woman like Maxim has found. One who will love me and treat me right. I have suffered enough in this life, no? Do I not deserve some good?” he whispers, dangerously low. I wonder what types of things he has suffered.

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Radimir wraps his hand around her throat and marches her out of our house without another word. I could worry about her, but I won’t. Does that make me a bitch? Anybody could take one glance into Radimir’s eyes and know not to screw with him, that he has evil lurking in there, that he has seen and done more than one person should in their lifetime, yet she poked the bear. Stupid skank. Maxim doesn’t say a word about the dinner as he readies Maksimilyan for bed while I clean up the dinner and the kitchen. We go to bed in silence, but he wraps me in his arms and holds me tight. I can’t help but hear Klavdia’s words echoing through my mind. Can he stay with only me? Is this some trust manipulation tactic to keep me here with him and blissfully unaware while he is off doing everyone in sight?

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“She is bitter, Haleigh. Do not listen to her. I meant it when I said no other women, only you, moya koroleva,” he whispers into the dark. I snuggle closer to him before I let the heavy sleep I desperately need take over. His queen. The words swirl around in my head until I final fall into that heavy sleep.

THE

I am bundling Maksimilyan up to go shopping for some more clothes for him. The boy grows like crazy. Maxim informed me that Alex will be escorting me and I smile softly. Alex is the most patient man I have ever met when it comes to shopping. He hates it, don’t get me wrong, but he is patient and always helps me when I need it. NEXT MORNING,

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There is a knock on the door, and I know it must be him. I don’t even look through the peephole before I open the door and gasp when I see Radimir standing in front of me, every terrifying inch of him. “You should look at who you open your door to.” He nods and I gulp, hugging Maksimilyan a little tighter to my body. “Please, come in,” I say, unable to look away from his blue eyes. On closer inspection, they are actually light gray. Nevertheless, they still make me shiver. “I want to apologize for Klavdia’s behavior last night. Your meal was lovely and she ruined it,” he apologizes. I nod agreeing with him; my chicken kiev freaking rocked. “I should explain a bit. You may think me overly harsh at my actions toward my wife,” he begins to say. I press my lips together but don’t agree or disagree. I can’t say I hated it when the bitch was … well … bitch slapped.

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“Sit.” He nods toward my sofa, and I find it odd that I am following his orders in my own home. “Klavdia was a whore when I met her. She was one of those women taken at birth, but because of her beauty, she was sold to an extremely wealthy businessman. He was forty and she twelve. I saw her on his arm ten years after he’d purchased her, and my eyes, they fell for her. I knew what she was at the time. It wasn’t a dinner party I was invited to, but a sex party,” he admits. I suck in a breath as he nods at me. “You know them? You have them in your country?” “I have heard of them, that some people enjoy switching partners and that there are some different tastes out there, but no, I have never been to one,” I admit, suddenly feeling extremely uncomfortable. Radimir nods, and I’m not quite sure why he is telling me all of this.

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“Her owner was fifty. He was sick with cancer. She stole my breath away with her beauty, and when he saw the way I looked at her, he ordered her to service me. The next day, her owner called me to a meeting. He had researched me, knew who I was and knew in my line of work a regular woman would not please me. I purchased her that day; I would have done anything to have her. “She was so excited to come home with me. Foolishly, I thought it was because she was as taken with me as I was with her. I was not a man with desire to own a slave. I enjoy dominating, but slavery was not for me, so I gave her freedoms. I wooed her, dated her, and offered her everything so she would fall in love with me. I am nothing more than a paycheck to her. Sexually, we have never been together. I tried not to force her because I felt she had been forced all of her life, but nothing I did ever pleased her.

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“Last evening was the last straw. She took advantage of Maxim when he was not in his right mind and then she used his transgression against him and planted seeds into your mind. You must not let those seeds grow, Haleigh. Maxim adores you, and he would be crushed if this did not work out.” Radimir glances at me, and the terror I once felt for him is replaced with compassion. He fell in lusty-love with a woman who essentially abused his kindness for years. “Thank you for explaining that to me. It does help with the doubts. What did you do with her?” I am afraid to ask and Radimir’s eyes flash, giving me an answer I am sure I don’t want verbalized. “You are in this life now, Haleigh. You must know it is not one where simple slaps on the hands are doled out as punishment for wrongdoings. I am lucky I never trusted her and always kept my business

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information locked up tightly, so she is no threat to me in that way. I sold her.” His words are pained; he didn’t want to, he loved her in a way and she shit on him. His cruel treatment should bother me more than it does. What does that make me? This whole situation has left me confused, about myself and my feelings. “I understand,” I whisper, tears pooling in my eyes, threatening to fall. “You are a sweet girl. Maxim was correct when he told me that you were his sweet little American ballerina. She knew the consequences of her actions, so we cannot feel badly for her. She knew her place and she became spoiled and too bold. She was not my wife, not legally. I was her owner and she was sold to me. “I know the man I sold her to and, although he will be strict with her, he will not abuse her,” he offers the information and looks at me as if to see my approval for his

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actions. Radimir then pauses and looks at an empty spot on the wall contemplatively. “He adores his slaves. He has several, and he also trains to sell them, but he has had his eyes on Klavdia for years. He was disappointed when I bought her and more than willing to pay double what I did for her. I must sound like a bastard.” He chuckles, the smile not reaching his eyes. “Will you buy another?” I search his face for an answer and he sighs. “Never. It was not what I envisioned. I hope that one day I am able to find a companion. I would like to have children and have a woman to love, who also loves me. I am resigned to the fact it may never happen.” He clears his throat as a knock sounds on the door, signaling Alex’s arrival. “I must be going. We are okay, Haleigh?” he asks. I smile and nod at him. I don’t agree with how he reacted toward Klavdia, but after hearing his story, I

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understand. I don’t have to agree with somebody’s lifestyle or decisions to understand them. Plus, who am I to judge? I was once sold to my husband. “We are, Radimir, and if ever you are hungry, do not hesitate to come over for a home-cooked meal. I don’t promise that it will always be edible, as I am still learning, but we always order takeout if it is too bad.” I wrinkle my nose, and he genuinely smiles at me as he opens the door for Alex, nodding before he leaves. “Are you all right?” Alex asks as soon as he is inside of the apartment. I can see the concern etched across his face, and I choose to simply smile at him. “I am,” I respond. We leave, never mentioning the fact that Radimir was here in my home, alone. We spend the rest of the day shopping, and I outfit baby Maksimilyan with anything and everything he could possibly need when

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it comes to clothes. By the time Maxim comes home, I am chomping at the bit to tell him about my visit with Radimir. He is equally as surprised as I am at the story. “He is good man, angel moy, but he has had a hard life, much like me. Much like all of us in these positions. He will find his Haleigh,” he says softly. I sigh as I curl into my husband’s warm body and then I whisper to him another piece of news I have been holding back for a few days, waiting for the right time. “Congratulations, Maxim, you are to be a father again,” I say softly. He pulls me in tightly, and after a moment, I pull my head up to see tears streaming down his face. “Maxim?” He shakes his head. “You make me so very happy, golubushka,” he whispers, controlling his emotions. Then he makes the sweetest love to me, sweeter than he ever has; and while I

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miss my demanding lover, I can’t say that I am disappointed. In this tender moment, we need tender loving. I love this crazy Russian with all of my heart.

MAXIM HAS BEEN DISTANT. Four months have passed since finding out that I am pregnant with our second child, and it seems my husband is either freaking out, or telling me the truth, when he says that work is taking over his life. Today, we find out if we are having a boy or a girl, and Maxim is late. He promised he would be here, but like many of his broken

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promises of late, he is not. I sigh and scoop Maksimilyan into my arms. He is so heavy these days that it hurts to carry him around, but I know soon he will not want me to hold him at all, so I am relishing the moments while I can. The appointment is short. I only understand half of what the ultrasound technician has said to me. I understand the word for healthy and then I cry when I heard devotshka escape her lips. It means we are to have a daughter. It would have been much easier if Maxim were at the appointment to interpret, or if I would have asked Alex to come; he has been the one to join me at all of my appointments since Maxim hasn’t been able to, but I was sure Maxim would be here today. I can’t help the uneasy wave of disappointment, heartache, and fear that washes over me at this missed appointment. I feel like I am losing my husband again—a

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husband that I have only truly had for a very short time in our marriage. I don’t want him to leave me again; it would hurt too badly to know he goes to other women’s beds, to know that for whatever reason I am truly not enough for him. Once I’ve fed Maksimilyan and he is asleep in bed, I decide to wait on the couch for my husband’s return. This is it. The fear of the unknown is choking me, making me unable to breathe, let alone sleep peacefully at night. Decisions will be made, and I will not sit back any longer. I made a point to come here for my husband, my children, and my marriage. I will no longer be ignored. Eventually, at two in the morning, he stumbles inside of our apartment and he is drunk. I try to keep the sting of tears at bay. I try not to think about the hurtful words Klavdia spewed about how he would end up treating me once he earned

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back my trust. They are ringing awfully true, and it hurts so badly. “Where have you been?” I ask, my voice trembling. Maxim’s head shoots up and he looks at me, shakes his head, and leans against the wall to focus. “Gregori had news about the group. I talk to him about a few other business matters. Why are you still awake?” His tone is stern, and I hate it. “I had a doctor’s appointment today,” I say and search his eyes for a memory of the forgotten appointment, but I am met with a blank stare. “You were supposed to meet me there, Maxim.” I sigh. His shoulders sag. “I forget, golubushka. I have been …” He doesn’t finish before I interrupt him. “Busy, yes I know this. Are you sleeping with somebody else, Maxim?” I spit out angrily.

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Maxim’s eyes flash with something unreadable, and before I can even think, he is in front of me, looming over me. “You ask me this? In seriousness?” he growls. I scoot back on the couch against the arm, playing right into his plans as he straddles me, his knees on both sides of my thighs, my nightshirt riding up my legs. “Well, you are never home, and you sure as hell aren’t sleeping with me,” I cry out, tears streaming down my face. Maxim doesn’t see them, he sees only red, only color. Maxim grabs the sides of my panties and rips them from my body, shoving the shirt farther up my hips and over my belly. He rips the fabric off me, baring me to him, naked and vulnerable. I look into his eyes and try to search for my lover, but he is not in there. Some angry version of him has

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appeared instead, making it hard for me to take in a breath, my lungs constricting. “I fuck you right now and you know there is no one else, is that what you want?” he snarls at me, reminding me of an angry animal. “Fucking me proves nothing, Maxim, except that your cock works. I asked you a question. I want to know where you have been. And if you say busy, I will not be happy,” I yell in his face. I can’t say that I would leave because I won’t. I love him, but I want to know what the hell is going on. “I have fucked no pussy but yours since you came here all those months ago. I cannot tell you what is happening because you cannot know. It is business and you would do good to remember your place,” he growls. I feel his naked hard length against my thigh, I don’t even know when he brought himself out of his pants. Maybe we need some good angry sex.

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I wrap my fingers around his length, firmly, and stroke him. “What is my place, Maxim?” I murmur stroking his long length, my mouth watering. Foolishly, I want him inside of me. I nudge him to take a seat, and I sink to my knees on the floor. I lick the tip of his cock, tasting his pre-cum before I take him deep inside of my mouth, his hands fisting in my hair at the sides of my head. “Is this my place? On my knees sucking your beautiful cock, Maxim?” I ask before taking him inside my mouth again. He thrusts up a bit deeper. My fingernails curl into his thighs as I feel my body beginning to respond to his pleased motions, grunts, and groans. “Your place is at my side, golubushka, and on your knees taking my cock any way I give it to you—in your sweet pussy, down your throat, or in your perfect little ass. Your place is as my wife.” He thrusts hard,

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pausing as I feel his cock twitching in my throat. “My lover.” He thrusts again, gagging me. “My best friend.” He thrusts one more time before he comes down my throat, forcing me to accept every part of him. “I have been an ass, and for this, I am sorry, angel moy. Some bullshit is going down and once it is taken care of then I will tell you all,” he whispers still buried inside of my mouth as his hand massages the nape of my neck. I nod slightly. He slowly eases himself out of me and frowns. “I am sorry. You are pregnant. I should not have done that,” he mutters in horror. I shake my head. “I loved it. Now come and make me happy, Maxim. I have missed my husband.” Maxim grins and picks me up, carrying me to bed. Then he makes love to me with his mouth before fucking me hard and making

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me come twice before he finally lets me fall asleep. “Our baby is a girl, Maxim.” I yawn, curling into his side. “Our girl will be gorgeous, just like her mother,” he whispers as I fall into a deep, exhausted sleep. The pounding on the door is so loud that I wake up with my heart threatening to burst out of my chest. I look over at the baby monitor and sigh with relief that Maksimilyan is sleeping soundly. Maxim jumps out of bed and pulls his pants up his hips as he grabs his gun and tucks it in his waistband. “Cover yourself, angel moy, no good comes from three thirty wake-up calls,” he orders. I do exactly as my husband says. I dress in yoga pants and a tank top as fast as I can, following him downstairs. I stay far behind, as I watch him swing the door to our apartment open. “Gregori, what the hell?” he growls.

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My stomach sinks at the sight of Gregori. I have been able to stay away from him since the night he dropped me off on my doorstep two years ago. I watch in horror as Maxim’s body is thrown to the side and, not only Gregori, but another man walks through the door. The other man is tall and extremely handsome; his hair is slicked back, and his suit screams money. He looks exactly like a man who would have been friends with my parents. They would have kissed his ass. He has an air of entitled asshole that surrounds him, and it makes me gag. “This is him? This is the man that causes me such headaches?” The entitled asshole says to Gregori, who just nods. I am so confused. I get a little closer to Maxim’s side as his arm slides around my shoulders to keep me close. Gregori only nods, his words gone, and I want to ask him

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what this is about. His presence in my house makes me nervous. “I want Mariya. Where is she?” the stranger orders. I gasp that he knows Maxim’s sisters name, but Maxim doesn’t react, not even a tightening of a single muscle on his body. “That whore? I have no idea,” Maxim says, sounding bored. He doesn’t fool me; this man must be the leader. “Maybe you have ideas when I take your son and your heavily pregnant wife. I got a nice message that she carries a girl. She is very pretty, and I think your baby might be prettier than Mariya was. I could make more off her or just keep her for myself,” he says with a wicked gleam in his eyes. Maxim growls, and I can’t help the tears that stain my cheeks. Will I never be safe? Will my babies never be safe?

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“Fuck you,” Maxim yells. The man nods at Gregori, who lunges for me. I try to get away from his grasp. I struggle but it is fruitless as he quickly wraps my wrists behind my back, pulling me into his chest. His mouth is at my ear and he whispers how excited he is to fuck me again, that he’ll make me come again and again. I cry, my eyes focused on Maxim, but the tears are streaming and I am unable to stop them. “Ivan, you let my wife go,” Maxim roars. The men at my back just laugh. “Why would I do that, Maxim? She is mine, your babies are mine, and Gregori likes her pussy. He wants to keep her,” he says nonchalantly. I watch in horror as the color in Maxim’s face drains as he looks back and forth between Gregori and me. I cry even harder, my omitted past now revealed. I never told Maxim who had forcefully taken me before. I thought Gregori was a good man, I thought

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he was trying to help me, help women like me. “You fuck my wife?” Maxim asks, his voice cracking and his strength seemingly gone; his eyes holding the betrayal of his friend and his wife. “Maxim,” I cry out. His eyes cut to mine, and I shut my mouth as my lips tremble and tears continue to flow heavily down my cheeks. “I did, brother, and let me tell you, it was best I have ever had. Tightest pussy I have sunk inside of.” Suddenly, I am shoved to the ground, my hip landing hard on the floor as Maxim and Gregori pull out their guns and face off with each other. “This is entertaining,” the other man, Ivan, hisses under his breath. I look up to see that his eyes are glittering in delight. “You sick fuck. Haleigh is mine. My wife and the mother of my children. Mine. If you

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think I let her leave my side, I have news, fucker,” Maxim roars. It makes me shiver. “You are too emotional about some fresh pussy, Maxim. Her pussy is good, but she is no whore. I will have many things to teach her, no? You are too lenient with her,” Gregori says with a sick smile. The hand Maxim holds his gun with is sturdy, but I glance at his other one and it is shaking with a mixture of anger and fear. I see both emotions in his eyes, and I know my own eyes reflect his emotions as well. “Put your guns down,” Radimir’s voice floats through the room but neither men move. Maxim’s eye twitches, his only response. “Radimir, how are you doing? You come in here thinking to order my man to do anything?” Ivan growls, his face turning red. Total control freak.

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“It is not Radimir that makes the order, it is me,” another man says, walking into the apartment. My head is swimming with all of these men dressed in expensive suits walking around our apartment. I am so discombobulated. Alex is following the two men. The new stranger is taller than Radimir and Maxim, which says something because they are both huge. His body is leaner than Maxim’s but no less muscular. At least not that I can see through his tight button down silk shirt. Dressed in suit pants and a vest, his black hair slicked back and his blue eyes piercing, he is older but handsome. His powerful presence is more than any man in the room, even Ivan’s. “Sergei,” Ivan sneers. Maxim nods slightly to the man, showing him respect. He must be somebody. “Do you let her go and move on from whatever your plans are here?” Sergei asks,

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sounding so bored he might as well be yawning the words. “Never. She is ours. Her children ours—promises were made,” Ivan informs boastfully. Sergei shakes his head and tilts it to the side, before he smiles. “She is very pretty, I admit, but is she worth ruining your career, Ivan?” “Nothing will ruin me. I find Mariya and have this bitch and her. Then my secrets are safe. You won’t do shit.” Ivan laughs but Sergei does not join him, and it makes me wonder just who exactly he is and what he knows about anything happening here. I don’t know a damn thing. “I ruin you, Ivan. I will take over and have everything you have, politically and financially. I will own you and there will be nothing you can do about it from the grave, friend,” Sergei says, his voice soft but his

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meaning perfectly clear. Maxim grunts but his body is statue still. “You would not dare. Without my legitimate business in your pocket, you have nothing,” Ivan points out. Sergei throws his head back and laughs, motioning to Alex. I watch as my friend walks out and then returns with two more people. A man and a beautiful young woman. Her hair is black and long, her eyes bright dazzling blue, and her body, beautiful and curvy. “I have your son— your heir, and your daughter,” Sergei says, and the color drains from Ivan’s face. “My son will never side with you and my daughter is nothing but a future whore to be sold when it is convenient to me,” Ivan announces. I watch as the girl shudders. I want to wrap her in my arms. We are the same, her and me.

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“You foolish tyrant. Your son has been a Torpedo—a contract killer, since he was sixteen years old for me.” Sergei smiles, and I look back to see that Ivan is looking back and forth in shock between Sergei and his son, the younger version of him minus the overconfident asshole stench. I feel like a ping-pong ball, my head turning from person to person as they speak. Secrets and truths reveal unfolding before my eyes, but I can’t comprehend all of it. There is so much happening and my head is spinning. All I want is my husband to wrap me in his arms and keep me safe. I want to wake up from his horrendous nightmare.

“HOW DO YOU FIT into all of this, Gregori?” Sergei asks. Gregori twitches slightly before gulping. “I am trying to save these women,” he says, but it is with a shaky voice, his confidence blown away. I know he is lying. He must be. “Kill him,” Sergei orders. Before the word him has even left his lips, I watch as

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Gregori slumps to the ground, a perfect round dot in the middle of his forehead and a new gun appearing in the hands of Ivan’s son. The girl screams, but I can’t even move. Gregori is on the ground next to me, dead, and my emotions are void, except for relief. I feel complete and total relief that Gregori will not ever be able to manipulate and torture me again, gently or otherwise. “Come,” Maxim says crouching down next to me. I pull up on shaky legs, launching myself into his arms, the tears flowing down my cheeks again. “I’m so sorry, Maxim. I didn’t want to do those things, I swear,” I shake violently as his arm tightens around my waist. “Nyet, angel moy, I know, I know.” His words are nothing above a whisper as I try to gain my composure. His hands lightly pet my hair as his arms stay tightly wrapped around me.

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“You have my son, now give me Emiliya back,” Ivan demands, his confidence shot. I can smell the fear radiating from his body, replacing the stench of overconfidence. Radimir grabs the girl around the back of the neck from Alex’s arms and pulls her to his side. “Emiliya will not go back to you, tyrant. She stays with us, where her brother can protect her, where her pussy will not be sold for you to gain power.”

The man’s hand is warm on my neck. Though he is powerful, his grip is loose and he is no threat to me. I don’t understand most of what they are saying because my

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English is terrible. I chose to give up the language when I reached gymnasium, immersing myself in the language of love, in French. I took French because I had dreams. The dream of finding a lover while on vacation, after graduating school, dreams of a silly girl that would never come true. The day I turned eighteen, all dreams of finding a lover, a friend, a kind, gentle man were squashed by my controlling father. He announced that he would arrange my marriage, my perceived freedoms stripped, and I would remain his prisoner until the marriage would take place—to a man I would probably never meet until the wedding day. “Emiliya will come home. Her marriage contract is in process,” my father growls. I shiver in disgust. The man next to me glances down at me and pulls me closer to his side. His body is warm and his hand begins to massage my neck. I am shocked at his tender touch and

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how my body is reacting to it, my blood warming and my belly clenching. I try not to show it. “I grow tired of this,” the man I know now as Sergei says, looking at my brother. I watch in fascinated shock as my brother pulls the trigger of his gun and kills my father. No heated words exchanged and no emotion—just murder. Plain and simple. “You did good, son. Now you are richest man in Russia.” Sergei chuckles. My brother walks over to our father and kicks him, then spits on his lifeless body. I sag in relief against the strong, handsome, terrifying man next to me. “My first order of business is to release the whores if they wish to be released. My sister will be protected as promised?” He asks Sergei as he nods toward the man next to me.

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No kind words are exchanged between Yakov, my brother, and I. Not that I anticipated them; we were not raised to be an affectionate family. However, with the scene laid before me, I would like my brother to say something, anything. He just killed our father, for goodness’ sake. “Radimir is good man, deserving of a good woman, but he will not force anything,” Sergei says in my language. My body goes stiff understanding his meaning. He is giving me to this man; he is exactly like my father. My brother walks up to me and rests his forehead on my own, finally focusing on me, and it fills my heart with love for him. “Nyet,” I choke out. I want love, and I want a lover—a best friend. I do not want to be bartered and sold to a man I do not know.

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“You do as I wish, Emiliya. I want you safe, and I know no other way to achieve that than to have this man at your back and at your side. I will be in the middle of a heated war that you cannot be involved in. I trust Radimir. I have known him many years,” he says. My mouth is too dry to respond. Instead, I nod weakly. I know nothing about this man, other than my brother trusts him, but I trust nobody. My father is dead; a man who was supposed to protect me but only cared to protect my virtue so I could be sold to the highest bidder. Now, my brother freely hands me to a stranger and orders me to trust him. My head hurts, and I am suddenly exhausted from the shift in my life. “Come, beautiful girl, you need rest,” Radimir whispers, his hand still gentle on my neck. My body heats again from his touch, betraying my mind.

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I begin to walk with him and glance at the pretty American woman standing next to the man called Maxim. He is whispering softly to her as he rubs her protruding belly, his lips so close to her skin that they brush her temple every so often, depending on the words he speaks. Her eyes are teary as she nods and then they look at each other. I can see the love pouring from them. He loves her as if his life depends on it, as if he would stop breathing if she were to ever leave him. She looks like, without him, she would not be able to stand on her own. I want that; I want a man to look at me as if his life depends on me being at his side. I swallow the lump in my throat and close my eyes for a moment, mourning what I will never have. I will never have what they have.

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My mind is reeling from what is happening around me. Gregori is dead and so is Ivan, who apparently is some big deal in the political and business world in Russia, along with the underground in the prostitution world as well. I actually have no clue, and as soon as I am able, I will be asking Maxim for clarification on all of the men gathered in my living room, and the poor young girl who so obviously is scared out of her brain. “How are you, angel moy, the baby? Do I need to take you to hospital?” Maxim whispers, his hand caressing my belly. I shake my head. This man. I was ready to throttle him just hours ago, and right now, after everything he has found out, he is concerned, so very concerned. “I am all right. I fell on my hip. If I start feeling bad, I’ll let you know, but we must

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talk, Maxim.” My voice wavers, but I need to talk about Gregori. He needs to know … everything. “We will talk once this mess is cleaned up.” His voice is harsh, but his eyes are soft as he gazes down at me. I love him so much at this moment. Even with two dead men at my feet, I cannot feel anything but love for this man. I know I am a fool to love him the way I do; to continually forgive him for his sins, for the danger he brings to our family just by being who he is, but foolishly, I don’t care. I am his, completely, and he is mine. “Take her to bed, friend. We take care of this mess without the women,” Alex whispers. Without another word, Maxim slides his hand around my shoulders and we silently walk to our bedroom. He doesn’t speak, locking the door and going to the bed in silence, and it is killing me.

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“Gregori was my friend. Well, as much as a friend as I could have in this life, and I find out he is nothing but a betraying bastard?” Maxim’s cold words are like ice being dumped on my body. “I am sorry, Maxim. He told me we were being watched and that it was expected, that he was trying to save me and the women like me, that he was trying to stop them,” I admit with fresh tears streaming down my cheeks. Maxim nods but his eyes looked weathered, worn—the blue so dull, he does not look like my Maxim. “I know, I know. He told me those things as well,” he says, his voice softening, and his eyes focus on me. I sit closer to him and place my hand on his thigh, my face dipping down to look into his eyes. “Tell me who this Ivan man was. What exactly is happening here, Maxim?” I plead. He shakes his head, and just when I think he is going to tell me to just go to sleep, he

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begins to speak. What he says rocks my world. Maxim was indeed the son of a couple of druggies and was sold at a young age to the Bratva for services rendered. It was his initiative and talents that made him climb the ranks instead of staying a lowly soldier. These were all things I already knew, but there is more. There is always more, isn’t there? “When Maryia mentioned that she had been kept by Ivan I started to dig around. I found out that our fathers were brothers. Ivan is, technically, my uncle. My father was not good or honorable. Their father, my grandfather, was always a successful businessman and passed his companies and money down to Ivan. My father hated that his brother got everything. From the time they were children, Ivan had always been the favored child.

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“My father schemed, stole from his own family, and with the money he took, he started a whorehouse. He specialized in virgins and young girls for a steep price. One of his girls was my mother, along with dozens of underage women. “Eventually, my father began to pay back the money he stole, and once the money was back, he and Ivan seemed to be good, square, at least on paper. Ivan and their father, Vasily, pretended to forgive him and actually approached my father for the business deal, combining forces. Vasily was part of Bratva. It was how he made his fortune and how he was able to invest in his businesses and become such a success. It was together they started taking young children and raising them as either Bratva or bartered them for whoring as a way to pay back whatever debts you owed them,” Maxim takes a breath and scrubs his face with his hands in frustration. This was his family that

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began all of this, abusing these children and taking them from their parents and he never knew. “Ivan and Nikolay — my father, took liberties at the whorehouse often. Unfortunately, they both wanted the same young girl once, my mother. She was twelve years old and a virgin, worth a bundle to my father. “Nikolay told Ivan he couldn’t fuck her. She was too valuable as a virgin and must be kept for a higher price. In the middle of the night, Ivan fucked her ignoring Nikolay’s instructions, the next morning he found her, almost comatose. It was then that he gave her, her first taste of drugs, to take the pain away. “Nikolay was enraged and confronted Ivan, who denied the whole thing. He called his father, Vasily, and told him that Ivan was no longer allowed in his whorehouse, that he didn’t want the agreement any longer. He

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was done with the whole lot, and he wanted out. “The only way Vasily would allow it was if my father would give him the whorehouse and take my mother with him when he went. He also must pledge himself to the Bratva and work for him, doing whatever he was instructed to do. My father would do anything for her. The other stipulation was that he would give up their children, if they ever have any, to the cause. Nikolay agreed, and that’s where their story, and mine, began.” Maxim places a kiss on my forehead before he continues with his story, and I relish in his gentle touch. “Drugs and sex—that was their life. Nikolay did what he had to do for the Bratva, but his rank was the lowest of the low. He was too strung out to do any real work. “My parents, they did love each other, I think, but they were both broken and their

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minds clouded by drugs. When we were a bit older—my sister and I—Vasily and his men came for us, but my parents fought them and they both were killed.” I gasp at the thought and at the frankness, the coldness of Maxim’s retelling of this emotional tale. How could he just say the words and not break down? He clears his throat and then continues. “I was dropped off at an orphanage, a Bratva orphanage, meant for housing the boys until it was time for them to begin their work. My sister was take elsewhere watched much closer than I was by her charges because she needed to be untouched in order to make Ivan the most money. He wanted to ensure his niece would be perfect for her potential buyers,” he says taking a moment to breathe. “Baby,” I whisper with tears in my eyes. He just shakes his head.

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“The worst, Ivan paid the older boys who he knew would do it, to defile me, his own nephew, just to get back at my parents. I wasn’t big enough to defend myself yet. I only found out why I was targeted last night. Gregori, of all people, showed me the computer file that proved it all with photos. I never knew Ivan was my uncle or anything of this story until last night. I thought that when I was approached to be part of Bratva and my agreement with them was made that it was a choice, it was never a choice, I would have always been made to give up my children for the armies.” I gasp and then start to sob, thinking about my big strong husband being abused and for nothing more than some man’s sick twisted entertainment. It all makes sense, him coming home drunk and angry. I crawl into his lap and wrap my arms around him burying my nose in his neck while I sob for him.

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“It was long ago, angel moy. Do not cry,” he whispers, trying to comfort me. I can’t handle that. I look up at him through my watery eyes, and I give him a shaky smile, my lips trembling. “Is it bad that I’m happy he died, and that his own son killed him?” I ask, watching in beautiful fascination as he throws back his head and laughs. The tension of the evening is suddenly broken, and he pulls me closer to his body. “You are amazing, golubushka. Let us put all of this in the past,” he suggests. I nod chewing my lip. “These people were supposed to be family. They are your family, and this is how they behave? It scares me, Maxim,” I whisper. He just holds me tighter. “You need not to fear, golubushka. This will all be over soon enough. Luckily, Yakov does not run things the way his father did.” “Gregori …” I let the word trail off.

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My Maxim shakes his head and slides his nose up the column of my neck, his breath on my ear hot and warm. “He is worthless, he is dead, and if he weren’t, I would kill him, so he matters not. What he did was despicable and manipulative. We will no longer waste one more moment or thought on him. He does not exist any longer.” I nod and I want him to be right, but will he ever forget what Gregori did to me? Will I ever forget? Probably not. It is like the women Maxim had been with after he left me, forever in the back of our minds but never spoken of again. All thoughts of Gregori, Ivan, whorehouses, and Bratva disappear as soon as Maxim begins to lift my shirt over my head, slowly unclipping my bra before dragging it down my arms. His lips are a smooth caress as he kisses down my neck, my collar, pausing only to taste my skin with his tongue and

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then swirling it around my breast, avoiding my aching nipple. “Please,” I whisper thrusting my chest toward Maxim’s face, begging him to ease my ache. Maxim’s fingers dig into my thigh, sending a rushing need throughout my entire body. “I love when you beg, angel moy. How do you want my cock?” I whimper and shiver at his words; he is giving me an option, something rare when it comes to him. “Any way you want to give it to me, baby,” I murmur. It is his turn to shiver before he moves. He strips me of my clothes and removes his own before he twirls his finger, indicating that he wants me to roll over to my knees. I get on all fours preparing for him. I do love it like this. I love it any way he gives it to me because my Maxim always, always, makes everything feel deliciously good.

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Maxim wraps his arm around my breasts and pulls me up on my knees while one of his hands slides through my wet core, his mouth kissing the back of my neck. “I make love like this to my beautiful wife,” he whispers before sliding deep inside of me from behind. I cry out at the feel of him inside of me and his legs against the backs of my thighs. “Maxim,” I moan as he plucks one of my nipples with his fingers. “Sshh, Haleigh, just feel your man filling you, fucking you—loving you,” he groans quietly. My body melts into his at his words, those sweet, sweet words. Maxim’s fingers slowly play with my clit while he pushes in and pulls out of my body even slower with his cock. I am completely helpless, useless, and boneless as I lie back against his strong chest, accepting him inside of me. He wraps his teeth around my earlobe

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and tugs, bringing me back to the moment with the jolt of slight pain. I feel my body bending slightly before his fingers swirl around my clit a bit faster and he begins to thrust inside me just a bit harder. I cry out in pleasure as I feel my body beginning to peak toward my release. “Come,” he barks as he tugs harshly on my nipple. I scream with my release. My whole body going still in his arms. Maxim thrusts inside me three more times before he pushes in deep and I feel his cock go even harder and then twitch with his release filling my body. “I love you,” he whispers, kissing down my spine and gently laying me on my side. “I love you too, Maxim.” I sigh before sleep takes over.

TWO WEEKS LATER, THERE

is a knock on my door. I struggle to get up, my belly becoming increasingly larger and more uncomfortable as the days go by. Maksimilyan is sitting on the floor, quietly playing with blocks, so I go to the door and peep through to see none other than Sophia and Pasha standing on my doorstep. I throw the door open and launch

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myself into Sonia’s arms. I have missed my friend these past months. “Beautiful girl,” she whispers. Once I stop hugging and crying, I let them inside. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” I ask as Pasha bends down to scoop Max up in his arms. “Last-minute business trip. No time to call, but you are our first visit,” he says, smiling at Maksimilyan. I nod in understanding. “Does Maxim know you’re here?” I ask. Pasha winks just as the door opens, and I spin around to see Maxim strolling through, wearing his beautiful dark blue, silk suit. It is my favorite suit—the fit, the color—it all works for him and makes me feel like a big, fat cow standing next to him. “I do, angel moy,” he whispers. He kisses me on the cheek before pulling Sonia in for a hug and then Pasha, also leaning down to place a soft kiss on Maksimilyan’s head.

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Sonia, Max, and I rush into the kitchen to prepare dinner while the men talk about whatever business they need to discuss. Sonia rests her hand on my belly and smiles. “She will be so very lovely,” she whispers with tears in her eyes. I nod, unable to speak. I have missed my friend, but we have talked weekly, so she knows everything that has been happening around here the past few weeks. All of the stress and all of the chaos. “I knew. I knew this life of yours would be perfect. You make him happy, and in turn, he makes you happy, sweet girl,” she says. I nod unable to hold my own tears back. “How is Mariya? I have not spoken to her in a few weeks,” I ask, making conversation. Sonia’s eyes widen, her mouth gapes open, and she is about to speak when Maxim comes into the room.

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“Mariya is not well, angel moy. She has been taken.” He is so cold and so matter-offact; I just stand there with a wooden spoon in my hand, speechless. “Maxim,” I whisper. He shakes his head. “I trusted Dimitri when he said he could get her back in just a few days, but he hasn’t been able to find her. That is why Pasha is here. We think she may have been brought back here to Moscow.” I shake my head, unable to comprehend exactly what is happening. Why was she taken? “But I don’t understand,” I say, my voice soft and my brain so muddled and confused. “Security was not as tight as it had been because Ivan was her major threat or so we thought. We considered an enemy of Dimitri’s, since she is living in the house with him, but to be honest, we have no clue who has her. It has been a week and we have received no demands, nothing. It is as if she

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has just disappeared,” Maxim says, pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyes close tightly. I sit down in a chair, my whole body trembling with fear for my very sweet sisterin-law. She has flourished these months living with Dimitri. She has even expressed and hinted at true feelings for him, and I couldn’t have been happier for them. She is in school, learning how to become a teacher, and she seems so very happy. “Ivan was her uncle,” I point out, looking up to Maxim. He looks at me with disgust shining in his eyes. I know the truth now, the man who used beautiful Mariya was her own uncle. It makes me ill. “You guys really have no clue?” I ask in awe. Maxim’s hard face softens, and he kneels down and places his hands on my thighs. “Do not worry much, angel moy. Mariya is very strong and we will find her.” His words are strong and full of conviction, but

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they do not convince me, especially when doubt is shining in his eyes. “I just received a file from Dimitri, it is a video. We watch together,” Pasha exclaims, running into the kitchen. We all huddle around the phone as he presses play on the video file. Mariya’s image fills the screen, her hair is dirty and stringy, her face is caked with mud, dirt, bruises, and dried blood, and her lips are cracked and split. I try to hold back my loud sobs, but I cannot control my body from shaking and the tears that stream down my cheeks. “Do-do n-n-not l-oo-ook for me, Dimitri.” Her voice is harsh, like she is dehydrated, and I can see her eyes are red, as if she has been crying—or is crying, but no tears fall down her face. “I w-will n-n-not be f-fou-nd i-if y-you tt-ry to c-c-come for m-me. I-I am w-w-whore a-ag-ain n-now,” she says softly. I watch as

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her lips tremble before someone kicks her leg. “Do n-not t-tell Ma-Ma- Maxim o-or HH-Ha-leigh w-will be n-next,” she says. Then the screen goes blank, and we all just stare at it in silence until it begins to ring. It is Dimitri, and Pasha accepts the call, placing him on speaker phone. “Dmitri, I am here with Maxim and the girls,” he announces. “I must find her. We must find her. She cannot be whore again,” Dimitri croaks, and I know he is crying. I can hear it through the phone as he moans softly, mourning the loss of who I assume is his lover and friend, my sister-in-law and Maxim’s sister. “We will find her, Dimitri. I have connections here in Moscow,” Maxim says, his voice lethal and his tone no-nonsense. “I fly out in one hour. I see you soon, my friend,” Dimitri calls out. Maxim stops him from hanging up.

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“You are not my friend, you are my brother, Dimitiri, and we will find her. I called my Pakhan and my Sovietnik and they are on their way. My Pakhan has also called Yakov who may be able to help us,” Maxim offers. Pasha is nodding his head, but the whole situation has gone above mine; I don’t know what Radimir and Yakov can do to help. He has been trying to play the grieving son for the public while taking over his father’s business. In private, he is the one who killed his own father, a hitman for the Bratva, and extremely, frighteningly handsome. “I thought Yakov was in the states?” Pasha asks. I wrinkle my forehead with confusion. “He was. He brought her back with him. She has proven to be extremely difficult,” Maxim clucks and they both chuckle at his joke, whatever that is. The whole

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conversation goes right over my head, and I decide to just ignore them. The four of us and Maks eat dinner, but it is tasteless and sad. Our hearts are not into the conversation because one of us, Maryia, is gone, and the hell she is living in is completely unimaginable. How can this poor woman survive being used and abused again? Will she have a mental breakdown and forever be changed? There are so many questions, and I don’t want to know the answers. I just want her back, safe and with Dimitri. We all quietly go to bed, preparing to start another day, to worry another day about Maryia. “You are thinking so loudly, angel moy, my head aches,” Maxim groans. I roll to the side to face him, my belly pressing against his firm stomach. “How can she survive this?” I ask, the question that has been rolling around in my head over and over again.

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“Because, Haleigh, she is a strong woman, a good woman, and she will dust herself off and survive as she always has.” I sigh and cup his cheek, my thumb running along his cheekbone. “How did you survive, my beautiful Maxim?” I ask softly. A shiver runs through him. We have ignored this topic since he told me weeks ago. “I survived. I dusted myself off, and I got revenge,” he admits. I just look at him, urging him to continue. He sighs, knowing I want more from him. “The boys who … did those things to me …” He pauses, inhaling and exhaling deeply, looking as if he is in so much unbearable pain. “When I finally worked up the ranks in the Bratva, I found them. I made them watch as I cut off each one of their cocks and balls, and then I raped them with a knife and shot them in the head,” he admits his eyes

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closed. He is hiding from me, and I lean in to kiss his full turned down lips. “Haleigh.” He looks at me questioningly, worried and afraid I won’t love him for getting back at the boys who hurt him. “You are strong, so very strong, Maxim. I love you so much,” I whisper. Just like that, we don’t discuss the situation again. I want to say more to him, to comfort him, but he is still so destroyed by his horrific past that talking about it would probably upset him more at this point. I will be here for him when he’s ready. If he is ever ready. It is a situation and a story that will never be forgotten, but it isn’t one we need to rehash constantly. Maxim was abused, he survived, and he got revenge. Do I think that the revenge healed him completely? Absolutely not. Do I think it helped him feel stronger, more powerful? Absolutely.

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We fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms, and I know no matter what hell we have been through, it has all been worth it because we have found each other. Our love has made us better people and made our hearts whole. Dimitri bounds into the apartment the next morning, and I can’t help myself; I run to him and wrap him in my arms. He was my best friend for so long, and he helped me so much. I cannot imagine the pain he is feeling at the moment. “Dimitri,” I whisper. His body begins to shiver and shake. “She is gone. I cannot find her, and she is just gone.” His words are hoarse, and his arms tighten around me. “I find her, brother,” Maxim says from behind me. Dimitri and I break our embrace. We all three walk into the living room where Sergei, Alex, Yakov, Radimir, and Pasha are sitting on our sofas and chairs,

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along with a familiar looking blonde girl. They have information for Dimitri; they are ready to find our Maryia, bring her home, where she belongs, and keep her there.

Six Months Later

I ROCK MY SWEET baby girl, my Maryia, in my arms. Her bedroom of three light pink walls and one shimmering gold wall surrounds me. I look to the right and smile at the black and white photograph of Maryia Lasovska, the original Maryia in our lives. Dimitri took the photo as she laid out in the sweet

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sunshine by my favorite lake at our home in New York. She was so happy there, and the pure joy shone deeply in her eyes, erasing the horror that once filled them. Maxim, Dimitri, Yakov and Radimir found Maryia, but it was too late. We were able to give her a lovely funeral, and shortly after, I gave birth to Maxim’s and my sweet girl. We named her Maryia, as no other name would do. She will forever be our girl’s guardian angel, and I know she is smiling down from heaven on her. It took Maxim and me a long time to come to terms with the fact that Maryia was taken from us too soon, but eventually, we decided she was now at peace. No more pain and no more suffering. Dimitri hasn’t recovered, not even close. In fact, he asked us to sell the New York house. He never wanted to see it again, and we agreed. There were good and devastating emotions mixed with that home, so Maxim

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put it on the market and it sold to a celebrity couple within weeks. Dimitri moved into a penthouse in Manhattan and drinks himself into a stupor every single night. I wish I could help him, and I have sent Sonia and my friend—recently widowed Natalia—on the mission of keeping him from starving to death and wallowing in a dirty apartment. They check in with me weekly, and although he is no better, thankfully he is no worse. Natalia thanked me for the mission. She was becoming depressed herself mourning her husband. I asked Maxim how her husband died, and he just shot me a sideways glance and cryptically told me that this life of theirs was not for every man. He informed me that some men have problems maintaining the correct level of loyalty, which is one hundred and ten percent. I didn’t ask him again about the man Natalia was married to. Some demons are better left lying.

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“She sleeps?” Maxim asks quietly, shaking me out of my thoughts. “She does.” I smile as I rise to my feet and set the sleeping girl down in her gold wrought-iron circular crib. A princess in her little castle. “I wish my sister could be here to see her,” Maxim confesses as we make our way toward our bedroom. “I know. Are you any closer to finding the man who did it?” I ask. Maryia’s body was found abandoned in front of Maxim’s office building. Radimir, Maxim’s boss, was the first to see her and had her body taken from the street. It was horrific, and unfortunately, they are all no closer to discovering who would have done this. No other attempts on any of the other women have been made and everything has been quiet. Yakov, his sweet looking blonde haired lover Ashley, and Dimitri left shortly after

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her body was discovered and went back to the states. They had their own pressing matters of business to get back to. Pasha and Sonia stayed until the birth of our girl, but soon after, they had to leave as well. Radimir has been fairly quiet as of late. He has had a lot on his plate with Emiliya, Ivan’s daughter. Yakov opened up to me one evening when he was drunk and told me he felt badly for discarding her the way he had to Radimir. He confessed that he didn’t know what to do for her and he did not want her to be a target, which she would be. He needed her safe and who else to keep her that way but a Sovietnik? I didn’t know why he was opening up to me, but I accepted it and smiled. I told him that I would watch out for her, be a friend. He looked at me sideways before murmuring a small thanks and leaving. I take my time to get ready for bed. I cherish my nighttime routine because my

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daytime one is so hectic. I like to take my time, showering, removing my makeup, and slathering myself with sweet smelling lotion. “Come to bed, angel moy,” Maxim calls out. I take one last look in the mirror. I am still carrying a good ten pounds from bringing Maryia into the world, but I still feel like the sexiest woman on earth when Maxim looks at me. He appreciates my body, but more importantly, he appreciates my mind. It feels good. Being loved feels good. Maxim slides deep inside of me, and I arch my back, trying to stay quiet as the children are in the next room. He swallows my cries with his mouth, muffling the sound and thrusting his tongue deep down my throat, just as he plunges his cock deep inside me. I whimper when he picks up speed and starts to bury himself harder and deeper, thrusting so rough my body starts to shake under him.

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“So good, golubushka, every fucking time,” he growls, biting down between my neck and my shoulder, leaving marks as he always does. As soon as his teeth leave my skin, his tongue snakes out to soothe the bite of pain. I come hard, my pussy clenching and my thighs shaking. “Oh, yeah, fuck, you feel good,” he moans before I feel his release filling my body, probably making another child. I love them, and I love my husband, with all of my heart. My life is beautiful, gorgeously beautiful. If my Maxim wants another baby to fill his home with love, then I will gladly deliver it into our little world. Maxim deserves everything good he wants in this life, and I aim to give it all to him. “Do you think I put a baby in here tonight, golubushka?” he asks, a large grin on his handsome face. “I’m sure you did, baby,” I whisper, chuckling as he pulls me a bit closer.

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“I love you, angel moy,” he whispers. “I love you so much, Maxim.” Maxim and I will never be perfect. We definitely don’t have a perfect story; it is full of neglect, abuse, bartering, and violence, but it is ours, and we have made it the best life we possibly could have. I watch Maxim as he sleeps, and I still, even after the years we have been together, cannot believe how fortunate I am to have found him, to have been sold to him to pay off a debt. I believe everything happens for a reason, and I know that all my years of verbal abuse from my family made me who I am, made me strong, and led me to a man I would need all of that strength to love—to love, in spite of everything he tried to deny, and every time he tried to push me away from him. I will spend my entire life with this man, loving, and accepting his love, raising our

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children, and hopefully being able to hold our grandchildren one day in the future. I fall asleep next to him happy, healthy, and free. Stay Tuned for more from these Badmen in Seducing the Badman — April 2016

SNEAK PEEK

ROUGH & ROWDY Notorious Devils MC #1 Available MARCH 2016

CHAPTER ONE

KENTLEE I sigh out a frustrated puff of air as I stand in front of the boutique. I don’t want to go inside. I know what lies ahead, and none of it is good for me. It isn’t good for my sanity, my self-confidence—and it certainly won’t be good later tonight, when I will assuredly be crying into a pint of chocolate fudge brownie FroYo. Nevertheless, it is something I have to do. For Brentlee, my one and only sister. My

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little sister. Four years younger than me, at only nineteen years old, she’s getting married. I feel like the spinster-sister standing next to her, even though I am only twentythree. I suck in a breath and open the heavy boutique door—plastering on my sweetest smile. I notice immediately that all of the witches are present and accounted for. “You’re late,” my mother scolds as soon as I walk inside. Well, I have one foot inside. “We’ve been waiting around forever. Brentlee insisted we wait for you,” Missy, my sister’s best friend and future sister-in-law, points out, crossing her arms over her chest. “I was working,” I offer with a smile that looks somewhat apologetic, even if I’m not in the slightest. They knew I had to work today. I am lucky to even be off this early. I had to beg for the early release from the menial receptionist job I hold.

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I am a receptionist and gofer at a local real estate office. I am always given the assignments that nobody else wants—showing rentals. They are appointments that provide income for the company, but no commission for the agents. Therefore, I show them for my regular hourly wage. At night and on weekends. “Work? You need a man.” My mother waves her hand in the air, and inwardly I roll my eyes. “I’m never going to work. It’s pointless. I want a husband who can take care of me the way I deserve,” Missy pipes up. My mother pats her thigh with a smile. If Missy were to meet a man to treat her the way she deserved, she’d be living in a box down by the river. My mother married my father, a doctor, and quit her job the next day. Then she produced my brother, approximately nine months later, me, four years after that, and

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then my sister, four years after that — securing her role as the doting stay-at-home mother and wife. By the time we were all in school, I don’t think my father could function without her taking care of everything, including him. He never mentioned her working outside of the home again. My sister and I were expected to do the same, marry a man to take care of us. My brother is already in his residency to become a doctor – just like our dad. Truth be told, I wouldn’t mind being a stay-at-home mother if the opportunity presented itself, but I’m not going to date dollar signs just to accomplish that task. I want to meet someone, fall in love, and get married. Too bad I am too much of a homebody to ever actually meet anybody. My previous two relationships were failures—in a huge way. I am still licking my wounds from the last one.

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I’ve closed myself off from most of the dating world after him. “Jason and I just broke up, mom,” I whine. She shakes her head. “That was months ago, and he was a loser. You need to see if Scotty has any cousins for you,” she says with a wink. I scrunch my nose. “Our family is chalk full of successful businessmen. Honestly, I don’t know if you’re any of their type,” Missy sneers. My mother pretends not to hear her. Scotty is my sister’s fiancé, and he makes me gag. He is just too perfect—his hair, his smile, his manners, and the fact that he is preparing to take the BAR exam to become an attorney. Scotty seems perfect but he lingers too long when he gives me a hug, he stares at my breasts, and he's always – always – putting Brentlee down in such a way that she’ll strive to be even better than she was before. He has

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given me the creeps from day one. He’s manipulative and, frankly, a tool. Scotty is also nine years older than her; not that the age thing bothers me, it’s just that Brentlee is young and beautiful and should be having fun instead of settling with such a giant douche. Brentlee, to me, is perfection personified. Together, they look like perfect robots, designed in a lab or something. It just feels all wrong. Always has. “Dress number one.” Brentee’s voice floats through the boutique and we all turn around to watch her come through the dressing area with a wedding gown on her slim lithe body. “It’s so gorgeous,” everybody gushes. I have to admit, it is very pretty. Long lace sleeves, a sweetheart bodice with lace coming up into a high collar. It is A-line and very Princess Kate like. It is perfect and demur – nothing like my flashy sister.

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“Kentlee, what do you think?” she asks looking up through her long, chocolate brown lashes. Brentlee and I are night and day in the looks department. Brentlee has long dark hair. She’s tall and thin, her skin almost olive in complexion, and she also has chocolatey brown eyes. She looks so much like our dad, with his Italian roots. I, however, am short and curvy with ass and tits that I think are just too much. Unfortunately, I can’t lay off of the FroYo to save myself, so the ass and tits are probably forever going to stay. I keep my hair long, past my elbows, and am naturally blonde, like our mom, with pale skin. My eyes are a deep blue, almost black. Most people don’t believe we are even related, let alone sisters. “I think you look really elegant, Brent. I think it’s beautiful,” I admit.

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I am telling the truth, but she could wear a trash bag and still look gorgeous. I wish that she would sex it up. She always dresses super sexy and I don’t think her wedding day should be any different, but it isn’t my place to say anything – so I don’t. “This is it. Scotty is just going to love it,” she gushes. Then, my mother and Missy gush as well. I smile politely and wait until I can leave. I don’t gush; it isn’t in me. The gushing is too much. I am totally not that jumping up and down with excitement kind of girl. “Okay, Kent, don’t forget—Saturday is the bachelorette pre-party. Just a little bridesmaid’s get together, dancing and cocktails. We’ll start planning the bachelor and bachelorette parties. Then we can talk about my bridal shower. Squee.” She actually says the work squee and I try so hard to keep from rolling my eyes.

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I deserve a fucking medal right now. “Saturday night, yeah, I’ll be there,” I nod, tapping it into my phone’s calendar. Though, I’m not quite sure why. It isn’t like I really have much of a social life these days. “Try not to look homeless, please,” Missy snaps. I pray to Jesus to give me patience before I slap the shit out of this little bitch. “Cool,” Brentlee grins, ignoring her bitch of a friend. I smile back at her. Once she changes out of the white gown, she comes right for me and starts to speak in a low tone. “You’re really okay not being my Maidof-Honor?” she asks me for the fifteenth time. Truthfully, Brentlee had surprised me when she “broke the news” that I wasn’t to be her Maid-of-Honor, and that it would be Scotty’s sister, instead. It had hurt my feelings that she didn’t want me right next to

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her, helping to plan her showers and parties. I understand it, though. Missy is not only her best friend, but her future sister-in-law, too. Brentlee and I used to be best friends. Somewhere around high school, she blossomed into one of the popular girls and had a whole gaggle of girlfriends, whereas I stayed more of a loner. I dated and I had friends, but I was definitely never in the ‘it’ crowd. Brentlee was the damn leader, even as a freshman. Scotty’s sister had been her sidekick from the age of fourteen, so I wasn’t really shocked that she wanted her to take the coveted title of Maid-of-Honor. It stung, nonetheless. “You’ve been friends with Missy since you were fourteen years old and you’re marrying her brother. It’s cool, Brent,” I say, plastering on my fake smile. She smiles back—genuinely, I’m sure. After an hour of wedding talk and harping from my mother, I am finally free. I

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almost skip down the street toward my car, I am so excited. But I am dressed in my work clothes, a black pencil skirt and satin camisole with five inch, black high heels, so I decide against it. I hear a rumble from a distance, and then, suddenly, it feels as though a million bumble bees are surrounding me. I let out a gasp. my eyes widen, and my step falters as I watch the group of motorcycles pull up next to my sporty little black, convertible, Camaro. My Camaro is the reason I work weekends for a real estate company, as well as several evenings a week, showing rentals to perspective clients of my boss. He hates showing rentals and I want a cute convertible. It works out for both of us in the end. “Nice ride.” A deep baritone voice rumbles from next to me as I try to quickly open the door and slide into my car, without being noticed.

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“Thanks,” I mutter, looking up and simultaneously losing my breath. The man behind the sexy voice is… well… the sexiest man I have ever seen. He is tall. His arms are crossed over his chest and the sheer size of his biceps makes me whimper. They are the biggest I have ever seen—in real life. My eyes travel down to his middle and I almost purr. He has a firm, thick torso, with jeans that hang low on his hips. And his thighs? Tree trunks. He is big everywhere I can see; and probably everywhere I can’t see, too. The sexy stranger clears his throat, and when I look up into his handsome face, mine turns bright red. He caught me ogling him and a shit-eating grin curls his mouth. He has messy dirty blonde hair and light gray eyes—his jaw strong and chiseled. I know by the smirk on his lips that he thinks he’s every bit as sexy as I do.

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Cocky bastard. “What’s your name, sugar,” he whispers, deep and husky. I shiver and his lips quirk even more. “Kentlee,” I say as I slide into the driver seat of my car. I try to close the door but his hand shoots out to stop me. He quickly crouches down between the door and my seat. He is almost eye level to me, he is so long. “Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he grins. Then his hand comes out again, wrapping around the back of my neck. “Why don’t you come down to the clubhouse and party with me tonight, babe?” I blink at him. I know what he is. He is a Notorious Devil. They are legend around our town. The local outlaws. Parents tell stories to their children to scare them away from the group, and rumors

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always go rampant in the adult circles about them—about their women and about their parties. No way in hell am I going to be some innocent girl, lured into the lion’s den so they can pull a train on me. I have read and heard enough about them, and other MC’s, to know the things they do. No way. Not this girl. “I don’t think that would be a good idea,” I say quietly, trying not to rile him up. Just last week, three of the members were arrested in a bar brawl. Billy Smith, a guy I know from school, went to the hospital. Granted, Billy is a giant dick and he most likely deserved it—but still. “Why not, sugar?” he asks. The hand behind my neck starts to massage lightly. I almost moan at the contact. His strong fingers digging into my neck,

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combined with the smell of grease, oil, and man is sending me over the edge. I haven’t had sex in almost a year and I am horny as hell as it is. “I’m not… I’m just not the kind of girl that should be at one of those parties,” I murmur, trying so hard not to offend him as I simultaneously try not to wrap my thighs around him and beg him to fuck me, right here – right now. “What kind of girls are at our parties, babe?” he asks. I can sense an edge to his tone forming. My wide eyes lock with his and I tell him the truth. “I’m a good girl. I don’t smoke, I don’t drink much, and I don’t sleep around… like ever,” I confess, my cheeks turning bright red and heated. “Could tell you weren’t a bad bitch, honey. Still, you look smokin’ in that sexy

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secretary getup and I want to see more,” he grins. Panties. Fucking. Melted. I open my mouth to answer him, though I don’t know what I am going to tell him, when another man steps up behind him and halts my voice. He is huge—round belly, long hair in a braid—and he is glaring at me with what I could only guess is hatred. What I ever did to him I do not know. “Prez, we gotta get movin’,” the burly man growls. I shrink back a bit at his tone. The man’s hand around my neck squeezes gently before he releases me, ignoring the angry giant behind him. “You want to come on out, you just come on out, sugar. You’ll be perfectly safe with me. Just tell the man at the door that Fury sent you, okay?”

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I nod, even though I know there is no way in hell I am going to this man’s clubhouse. I have seen most of the men around town, but this guy, he’s new—different. He looks to be around ten years older than me, but I have never seen him before. Our town is fairly small and you tend to run into people. I even spot a few guys from high school standing by their bikes, part of the club now. But this man, he is a complete stranger. Once he turns to talk to the big man behind him, I hurry and skedaddle the heck outta there. I have FroYo to eat, and I need to freak out—alone—in my little one-bedroom rental house. When I am in inside my home, I lock the door and grab my coveted ice cream. Sitting down on the sofa, I realize I'm in complete shock. I look around the room as I shovel the

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chocolate into my mouth, trying to forget about what happened just minutes ago. Long gone are the memories of my sister’s bridal dress shopping moment, and my brain is now flooded with the strange and sexy biker. Holy shit, he was hot. I wish that I had some slut in me, because I want nothing more than to end the dry spell I am currently in and walk on the wild side of life. I figure a man like Fury would know exactly what to do with what God gave him. I imagine he would throw me against the wall and just take what he wants. I shiver from the thought. Jason didn’t know a clit from a nipple, and he fumbled and bumbled through every single sexual experience we had together. If that wasn’t bad enough, he was a habitual cheater. How he found so many other women to screw, I don't know. The man was

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horrible. At least, I hoped he was horrible. He was my only experience, and if it's that way with every man, I am going to become a spinster cat lady for sure.

Also by Hayley Faiman Men of Baseball Series— Pitching for Amalie Catching Maggie Forced Play for Libby Sweet Spot for Victoria – February 14, 2016

Coming Soon— Rough & Rowdy (Notorious Devils MC#1) – March 2016 Seducing the Badman — April 2016 Radimir Zalesky was given a woman to protect. Emiliya Chekova. Their story will continue this series right where it has left off.

As an only child, Hayley Faiman had to entertain herself somehow. She started writing stories at the age of six and never really stopped. Born in California, she met her now husband at the age of sixteen and married him at the age of twenty in 2004. After sixteen years together, he’s still the love of her life. Hayley’s husband joined the military and they lived in Oregon, where he was stationed with the US Coast Guard, before they moved back to

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California in 2006, where they had two little boys. Recently, the four of them moved out to Hill Country in Texas, where they adopted a new family member, a chocolate lab named Optimus Prime. Most of Hayley’s days are spent taking care of her two boys, going to the baseball fields for practice, or helping them with homework. Her evenings are spent with her husband and her nights - those are spent creating alpha book boyfriends.

First and foremost, to my husband. THANK YOU BABES. Without his love and support none of this would be possible. He is truly my best friend and my constant. Sixteen years and we’re still going strong. He works hard climbing those poles so that I can live my dream. How do I not give him all of my thanks for simply that alone? Mom—ALWAYS my best friend… seriously… I would not be the woman I am today without you as my moms. Without your

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unwavering support I would not have continued to pursue this dream. Thank you for being my Beta reader and sending me your suggestions…. Even when I don’t always use them. Nisha—my sister from another mister. Thanks for always sending me your encouragement on even the smallest accomplishment. It means more than you know! Love you sister! Cassandra Searby—Boo… thanks for always listening to me freak the hell out on stuff, even when you have zero clue what I’m talking about. You’re an awesome example of a friend, wife, and mother. I look up to you. Rosalyn—R.C.—My editor… my author BFF… my Sassy Sister. Seriously. God placed us in each other’s lives at the most perfect time. Thank you so much for all of your help making Owned come to life.

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Thank you for making me work. Cassandra Roop – Pink Ink Designs …. This cover… THIS COVER!!! It’s gorgeous. Thank you so much for busting this out. Seriously. It’s amazing and I am so lucky to have found you! Your vision is simply perfection! Stacey Blake—Champagne Formats … Thank you so much for bringing my words to beautiful life. You are the best babe! Always a lovely product and always a lovely woman to work with. My Fans, every single person who oneclicked this new book, in this new series. THANK YOU It means more to me than you will ever know to have somebody not only read but enjoy the stories that I have written. This is my dream and without each and every one of

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you it would not have ever come true. There aren’t enough thanks in the world that I could give. I just appreciate every single one of you so very much.

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