“Myshka?” Alik shouted over the music. “Just calling to check you were home and in bed.”
My stomach tensed and anger made me seethe. Alik wasn’t checking for my safety. He was making sure I was back in my version of the cage—obeying his rules, accepting his control of me—while he went out to play, dipping his wick in anything with a wet pussy.
“I’m home. I’m going to bed,” I replied tersely.
“Good. Don’t leave,” he ordered harshly. I closed my eyes, trying to rein in my ire, when a female voice enticed Alik to go to a back room with her.
“Where are you, Alik?” I asked with feigned politeness.
Stony silence greeted me until the music faded and the sound of a door closing came through the speaker.
“I’m out. It doesn’t fucking matter where,” Alik said darkly. “I’m doing Bratva business. I’m here with associates.”
“You’re at The Triangle?” I guessed. The titty club the Bratva owned, that his father managed. After Alik fought, he had to fuck. Normally, it was me who had to suffer against the wall at the back of The Dungeon, but this time we finished late because Alik had drawn out his kill. Papa ordered me straight home, courtesy of Serge, and of course, he wouldn’t let me stay at Alik’s place overnight, not until we were married, so Alik took his cock to the sluts. I knew with these women, he really let his true colors show. I’d heard that some ended up in such a state that they’d been hospitalized. Talia had heard rumors that some of the women he fucked, once they’d disappeared into a private room with my fiancé, were never heard from or seen again.
As screwed up as it sounded, I was glad he took out his sick fantasies on them and not me. Yet strangely, I knew as messed up as Alik was, he would never hurt me… not unless I tried to break free of him. My life was safer with him if I acted the role of the perfect Bratva wife. What hurt most was my father was so proud of me for taking that honorable mantle.
“Shut the fuck up, Myshka. I’m out, working off the fight. Your papa took your wet cunt from me or you’d be screaming under me right now. Even though his wrinkled dick is here in the club with me, getting sucked off by hookers your age. You know I need to fuck, but these sluts are never you, baby, never my Myshka. They’re just whores, nothing but cum bags. I think of you the whole time I’m inside them, picturing you squirming beneath me, scratching my back. How’s that? That make you feel better? You just sit tight at home and I’ll see you tomorrow. And as long as you stay inside, we don’t have problems. Yes?”
“Yes,” I whispered in reply, feeling sick to my stomach.
“I love you, Myshka,” Alik said, his harsh tone thawing a few degrees.
“I love you too,” I replied. It was rote, sounding more like a Stepford Wife than a loving fiancée besotted with her true love.
The cell went dead, and I leapt from my bed, hand to my forehead as despair swept through me. I hated this damn life, trapped in a cage by Papa and Alik’s psychotic obsession. I was twenty-five, for Christ’s sake, yet I was locked away like some virginal fifteen-year-old.
At times I hated my life.
The Byki would be downstairs, protecting the Pakhan’s stronghold, in reality stopping me from leaving the front door, but I just had to get out. I needed fresh air. And I’d never disobeyed rules, so even contemplating sneaking out was causing me to break into cold sweats.
Grabbing my jacket from my closet, I swung it on and headed to my window. Carefully opening it, I crept onto the fire escape. Tiptoeing down the metal stairs, I jumped onto the sidewalk. Checking that I hadn’t been seen, I began walking in the shadows, occasionally glancing up at the night sky, picturing Raze’s eyes meeting mine as he won the fight, my relief of his victory evident on my face.
He had looked for me. He’d found me in the sea of gambling men.
Lord! I couldn’t get him from my head! I was going crazy wondering if this mysterious homeless man could be my Luka.
The sound of a car pulling up beside me made me turn. Headlights flared and blinded me. I jumped back, suddenly fearful of who might be after me. Then Serge’s familiar face came into view, his window open and his light eyes boring into mine.
“Serge!” I said, out of breath and in shock.
“Miss Volkova, what are doing out of the house? You know it’s not allowed.” Serge reprimanded me, and then all I felt was pissed off.
“Serge, I needed fresh air. My fiancé and my papa are out at a titty bar. Alik’s probably screwing a long line of whores while I’m trapped inside my bedroom like a naughty child. He told me not to move or I’d piss him off, and that’s not how a good wife of a Bratva boss should act. So I needed some fresh air, okay? I’m twenty-five, I run a multimillion-dollar gambling ring made up of murderers and psychos, and I just wanted to take a damn walk on my own for once in my life!”