Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
This wasn't the brutal, animalistic sex we usually had.
It was so much more.
He was using his body, his mouth, his cock to center me. He grounded me to him, and I was helpless to do anything but give in to him.
My body already responded to him with heat and need, and this felt deeper.
When he sealed his lips to mine again with a silent demand to give in to him, I did just that. I came with a muffled cry, and he followed me right over the abyss.
He didn't pull away.
He stayed with me, his arms around me, his cock inside me, linking us together as he kissed me while we both came down.
Then he cradled my face in his hands while looking deep into my eyes.
"Lust may not be love, but it's something, babygirl. You have no one in your corner. No one to care for you. No one to protect you. The people who should have protected you betrayed you. Now there is no one to shelter you from all the bullshit life throws at us. Let me be that man for you."
A fresh wave of tears tracked down my face.
"Let me be the man who will burn the world to the ground to keep you safe."
I took in a deep, shuddering breath then I whispered back to him, telling him my deepest fear.
"But we don't love each other. You're only marrying me to keep me from talking to the police. What happens when you tire of me? What happens when you find someone better? Who will protect me then?"
He exhaled, pressing a slow kiss to my forehead as he pulled me close, stroking my hair. Soothing me in a way I didn't know another person could.
"Trust me. That's not the only reason and I will never tire of you."
He didn't explain further.
Instead, he kissed me again while pulling out of me, then after tucking himself away, turned to storm to the door and open it just a crack, making sure no one could see me while I got myself together again.
"Tell all the guests to leave. Family only," he barked to someone outside.
I heard a muffled, "You got it, boss."
My panic flared again as I looked down at my destroyed wedding dress.
He had cut the delicate Italian lace.
The corset bodice was sliced and the slit in the leg was ripped clear up to my hip.
"You don't have to kill me," I muttered when Pavel returned to my side.
"Alina, you are going to be my wife, I—"
"No, that's not what I mean." I gave him what I hoped looked like a reassuring smile. "Yelena will kill me for you when she sees what we've done to her beautiful dress."
Pavel shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders.
I loved that I was now warm and surrounded by his spicy scent.
"I'll block the first bullet," he said with a grin before scooping me into his arms and carrying me down the aisle.
The church felt different now—more intimate with only family present.
Candlelight flickered off the stained-glass windows, casting colored shadows across the wooden pews. His brothers and cousins sat on either side of the aisle.
Family.
It was strange to think there was literally no one here at my wedding for me.
No one except Pavel.
I had a pang of regret that my grandmother wasn’t here.
To his credit, Pavel had asked me if I wanted her here.
I’d said no.
At the time I told him I was worried about her dementia and disrupting the routine which was so important to keeping her calm and stable.
The real truth was I didn’t want her witnessing this.
No one said anything about him carrying me to the altar or the state of my makeup.
There was no judgment on any of their faces, and as we stood in front of the priest, I was starting to relax when, just as the ceremony was about to begin, a horrified voice cut through the church.
"What the fuck happened to my dress?"
CHAPTER 28
ALINA
Mrs. Pavel Ivanova.
I was Mrs. Ivanova.
Married.
I was married.
Married!
The words repeated over and over in my head, and they still didn't sound real.
Two weeks in, and I still couldn't believe it.
Probably because, in many ways, nothing had changed.
I was still being held as a prisoner in the penthouse, only able to have access to the computer and talk to Grandma when Pavel was here and he allowed it.
He had never told me no unless he was heading out the door, but still.
The desire to see her, to hug her and let her gush over the pearls that Pavel had someone collect and restring, gnawed at me constantly.
I was still under guard and not allowed to leave, or go into the office, or do anything that required contact with the outside world.
He saw I was going stir-crazy, and he would whisper in my ear that as soon as he knew he could trust me, I would have more freedom.