Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 228(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
The interior didn’t feel modern or untouched the way I expected. The floors were cool beneath my feet, worn stone softened with age rather than polished to perfection, large rugs layered over them in rich patterns that added warmth without taking away from the structure itself. Arched doorways opened into adjoining rooms, thick wooden beams stretched across the ceilings, and the walls held a muted, sun-washed tone that spoke more of history than display.
Everything felt lived-in in a way that didn’t lessen its value. The furniture was heavy, carved wood paired with linen and leather, the kind of pieces that had been chosen to last rather than to impress. Early morning light filtered in through tall windows framed by soft drapes, catching on ceramic vases and aged metal accents placed with artistic style.
“I’m just taking it all in,” I said, keeping my tone even as his hand pressed more firmly at my back, pulling me just a fraction closer. “I’m just thinking.”
“About what?” he asked.
There was no impatience in his voice, but there was expectation. This man wasn’t used to probing for an answer.
“This,” I said. “Everything.”
His grip tightened just enough that I couldn’t ignore it, and when I turned to look at him, I found his attention already on me, steady and focused like nothing else in the room existed. His hand slid from my back to my waist, guiding me deeper into the villa without hesitation, and I followed without resisting.
That realization stayed with me longer than I expected because the quiet understanding was that I wasn’t fighting him. And I didn’t want to.
The rest of the morning passed in a slower rhythm than I expected, shaped by a light breakfast on the stone patio but more by exhaustion than anything else. The overnight flight still lingered in my body, a dull heaviness behind my eyes and in my limbs, and even the quiet beauty of the villa couldn’t fully cut through it.
The space around us felt still, the thick stone walls holding in the cool morning air, sunlight just beginning to spill through the tall windows and stretch across the worn floors in long, pale lines.
There were no interruptions, no outside demands, no one stepping into the space that now belonged to us. It was just the two of us, and I became aware very quickly that Alexei didn’t leave me. Not once. If I stepped into another room, he followed. If I paused, his hand found me again. It wasn’t suffocating, not in a way that made me feel trapped.
Even through the haze of fatigue, the way Alexei’s gaze lingered on me longer than it needed to had heat simmering in every part of me.
I stepped out onto the terrace, drawn by the open air and the soft quiet of the countryside. The morning had fully settled in by then, the hills stretching out in muted greens and silvers beneath the early light. Vineyards ran in precise rows down the slopes, olive trees shifting gently in the breeze. It should have felt peaceful, and for a moment, standing there with the cool air brushing my skin, it almost did.
I was only outside for a few moments before I realized he was behind me.
“I wondered where you wandered off, moya lyubimaya.” My beloved.
I turned to find him crowding my personal space. I inhaled sharply, relaxing… I liked having him in my space, blocking out everything behind him.
“Just exploring and trying to stay awake,” I said, even though my voice came out quieter than I intended.
“I don’t like not knowing where you are.” His voice was full of possession.
I held his gaze, searching his expression for something that would soften it, something that would tell me he didn’t mean it exactly the way it sounded, but of course, I didn’t find it.
I wanted to tell him I wasn't a piece of property, that he didn’t need to know where I was at all times, but the truth was, in our world, I was exactly that. He was my husband, and in the mafia, a husband was the ultimate ruler in a household. He called the shots, made the rules, and could do what he wanted with his wife. It was too early for me to see which side Alexei was on, even if he’d been gentle with me thus far. I had to play it safe and follow the rules.
“You always need to see me?” I asked.
“Yes.” His voice was firm, set in stone.
His hand settled on my waist, his fingers digging in as he pulled me forward so we were flush together and I felt the solid muscles of his body pressed to my softness.
“You’re my wife,” he said quietly. “And I need to know where you’re at at all times.” His voice had dropped lower then, rougher, and the control in it sharpened into something darker as his fingers tightened and pulled me more firmly against him. His mouth was close enough to my ear that I felt the words more than I heard them. “You belong to me now, Lucia Drakovich. Body, blood, and soul.” His grip shifted just enough to press my breasts harder against him, and his strength was unmistakable.