DEVYN IS QUIET THE entire ride to the airport and all through takeoff. The flight attendant I hired offers her some champagne, but she declines. My eyebrows pull together, perplexed by her silence. She seemed fine just a few hours ago, and I don’t understand what she could be upset about.
I had a currier pick up her dress and deliver it to the front desk of my building, where it will stay until we arrive back home, safe and sound for her to use later. I like that she wants to use it for our children, that she seems to have accepted the fact that we’ll be having one sooner rather than later.
“Is there anything you need, sir?” the flight attendant asks after an hour in the air.
She’s bent over and I have a clear view of her cleavage. She bats her eyelashes and pouts her brightly red painted lips in an obvious invitation. It’s an invitation I would have taken a few months ago with zero hesitation.
The moment I kissed Devyn at our engagement party, everything changed. There’s something about her, something that draws me to her, and something that calls to me to protect her and not hurt her. She’s fragile, and the last thing I ever want is to see her cry because I couldn’t keep my dick in my pants.
I refuse to turn into my father.
I want to do better.
I want to be better.
“Vodka,” I grunt and take ahold of Devyn’s hand, lacing her fingers with mine. She jumps at my touch, and I turn away from the flight attendant to give my wife my attention.
A few minutes later, a cold vodka is handed to me. I take a sip before I decide to end this silence shit between us. “What’s your problem?” I bark, causing her to jump again.
“Nothing,” she lies as her eyes look up at my face, focusing somewhere around my nose instead of my eyes.
“I should spank your ass right here for lying to me,” I grunt, watching her eyes widen and her mouth gape slightly.
Leaning forward, I slip my tongue inside of her mouth, tasting her as I grip the back of her neck firmly. She moans as she tries to push closer toward me, and my fingers flex against her neck as I pull away from her, nipping her bottom lip before releasing her and sitting back in my chair.
“Tell me what’s the matter, Devvy,” I murmur, my head turned to the side and my eyes searching her face. Her nose scrunches up and I see tears fill her eyes, threatening to spill. She quickly turns her head to look out of the window before they fall.
I wait for her. I won’t be letting this go, and she can’t hide from me anywhere. Not for at least seven hours. I’m not a patient man, but I’ll wait for her to tell me what’s bothering her. I hear her suck in a ragged breath before she exhales and then finally speaks. It’s just above a whisper.
“You gave my dress away. I’ll get over it and be fine.”
I can’t help myself, I throw my head back in laughter. The silly woman. Her head snaps around at the sound of my laugh, and her eyes narrow as she crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m glad that you find that funny. My hurt feelings make you laugh, great,” she snarls.
Reaching for her hand, I grip her fingers with mine. She tries to pull away from me, and I smile at her, which causes her to become more irritated with me. I like the fire she’s throwing my way. I’d rather have her unfiltered attitude then the quiet, blank girl that was sitting next to me just a few moments ago.
“You think I am so callous that I gave your dress away after you asked me not to?” I ask. She doesn’t speak, her eyes staying narrowed to small slits. “You think after you told me and I couldn’t help but fuck you, excited because you were thinking about our children. Ecstatic at the fact that you wanted to pass something from our wedding day off to them. You think that I would just throw your gown away?” I ask on a growl.
“What?” she gasps.
“You heard me,” I grunt as her body completely relaxes and her eyes widen in disbelief. “I had your dress couriered to my apartment, where it will wait until we arrive home, and then you can hang it up in your closet until our baby’s christening.”
“Fei,” she whispers as her mouth opens in a gorgeous O shape.
I lift my free hand and trace her full lips with my thumb before I slip it between her lips. “Suck, devochka,” I demand, my voice husky.
Her tongue touches the pad of my thumb before she sucks, her eyes on mine. I imagine it’s my cock she’s sucking on instead of my thumb, her eyes glassy, her full lips wrapped around me, her on her knees, taking what I give her without complaint. Removing my thumb, I paint her lips with her own saliva before I lean over and kiss her mouth, licking her taste from them.
“I don’t know what you think about me, but trust me, devochka, I will not purposely hurt you. Not like that,” I murmur against her lips. I move back and she grins slightly with a nod.
“I… I saw you giving it to someone. My sister, she told me what to expect, and I’m just… confused,” she whispers. I frown, wondering what in the fuck her sister said to her about me, about what to expect. I’ve never even met the suka.
“Your sister doesn’t know me. Whatever she told you, you need to erase from your mind,” I grunt.
“She married one of my father’s men. She was just trying to help me,” she murmurs as her teeth rake across her bottom lip.
I snort. “Devyn, I am not one of your father’s men. I’m not even one of my father’s men, as much as he would like me to believe it to be true. I’m Timofei Vetrov, and what we have when we’re alone in our bedroom, in our household, it is ours and nobody else’s. Nobody will ever know what happens behind our closed doors, devochka,” I explain, cupping her cheek with my palm.
“They won’t?” she asks on a breath.
“Nyet, Devvy. You’re devochka moya—mine. To the world, I’m Timofei Vetrov; but to you, I’m your Fei. You’re Devyn Vetrova; but to me, you’re Devvy. That is ours, and no matter what that looks like, nobody will see that side of us. To the world, I have to be heartless, strong, and possibly cruel, but I will try my damnedest not to let that leak into our lives, into our marriage, devochka,” I explain. She nods as her eyes search mine.
“I think my sister’s husband lets the outside world leak,” she whispers.
“A lot of men in our line of work do, devochka. Luckily, the men you met at brunch, they don’t. I’ve observed them and the way they are. I have good people to look up to.”
Her mouth curves up into a small smile, and it takes my breath away—her beauty, and her obvious trust in me. I vow not to let her down, to be the best that I can be for her, and to keep her safe. The latter may be my toughest challenge of all, but I’ll try to shield her from horrors of life, to keep her innocent and pure, soft and sweet.
“Now sleep,” I murmur, pressing my lips to her forehead as I settle back in my chair.
She sits back in hers, and it doesn’t take long before her head is on my shoulder and her soft breathing fills my ears. She sleeps the rest of the flight, and I’m glad for it. It gives me time to think about my plan going forward. It gives me time to think about, my father and taking over his position as Pakhan of Brighton Beach.
“Wake up,” Timofei’s voice murmurs against my ear. My eyes flutter open as I look around. I glance out of the window and realize that the plane isn’t moving. We’ve landed, and I slept through the entire thing. “Come,” he grunts as he stands in the center aisle.
I take his offered hand as I stand. He squeezes my fingers as he gently tugs me after him. I carefully walk down the narrow steps of the plane onto the tarmac and am surprised that it’s cool and the sun is just rising.
“What time is it?” I ask.
“Almost six in the morning,” Timofei chuckles. “We’ll go to the hotel and you can rest all day. I’m sure you’re still exhausted from the wedding. We’ll start our sightseeing tomorrow, when your jetlag is better,” he states, moving his hand to the small of my back while he walks us toward a fancy looking car.
Once I’m inside of the vehicle, we wait for a few moments as our luggage is loaded. Then a driver asks Timofei something in French. To my surprise, he answers him back—in French.
“We’re staying on the Champs-Elysees, which you’ll enjoy. It’s beautiful, and we’ll be near most of the tourist things you’ll want to see,” he explains. I nod as my eyes drift to the window at his side.
We drive quickly through the city, and my eyes try to take everything in, but I can’t. Timofei wraps his hand around my upper thigh, just underneath the hem of my dress. I’m unable to hide my goosebumps that appear on my flesh at his simple touch. His fingers gently stroke the inside of my thigh as the driver navigates through the crowded city traffic.
“There’s the Arc de Triomphe,” he says, pointing off into the distance at a gigantic arched building. “We have reservations tomorrow night to dine in the Eiffel Tower, and then we’ll catch a show at the Moulin Rouge.”
“Seriously?” I breathe in shock and awe. Timofei grins and winks as he squeezes my leg and then pulls his phone out.
He starts punching buttons, and I decide to turn from him to look at the city. We’re getting deeper into the heart of Paris, and I can’t contain my excitement. I love it all. It’s so green and beautiful; the trees are full, and everything looks brighter than in New York. It’s probably just my imagination, but it all feels almost magical.
The driver stops in front of our hotel, and I’m speechless at its grandeur. Timofei squeezes my leg before he slides out and waits for me, his hand palm up. I slip my hand in his waiting palm and try to slide out of the car as gracefully as possible.
Timofei releases me and walks over to the driver, shaking his hand as he talks to him. Then he’s back at my side as a bell boy hurries toward us.
I listen as Timofei speaks to him in beautiful French before he places his hand at the small of my back and applies pressure to push me forward. I’m so completely mesmerized by the fact that he can speak French that I move my feet without thinking, my head turned and my eyes shamelessly focused on his profile.
I let out a sigh as he continues in French to the front desk clerk, giving her a sexy merci as he takes the key from her and then walks us over to the elevator.
Once we’re inside, I realize I didn’t even look at the lobby. I was too busy lusting, listening, and being completely enamored with my new husband.
“I have a meeting in an hour,” he announces as he steps off of the elevator and walks to our room.
I follow closely behind him and am surprised to see our luggage has already been dropped off before I respond. “You’re leaving?”
He nods once, “Yeah, it shouldn’t take too long. Maybe a couple hours. You go ahead and get some sleep. If you’re hungry, order some room service,” he murmurs. “I’ll call up to the room if I’m going to be too late.”
I can’t help my surprise, my complete and utter shock that he’s leaving me here alone. We’ve just arrived and there’s some sort of unexplained meeting?
If he realizes my shock, he doesn’t respond to it as he starts to rifle through his bag, grabbing his toiletries before walking toward the bathroom.
“Oh, unpack my bags while I’m gone. I don’t want my suits to get wrinkled, yeah?” he calls out before he shuts the door.
The sound of the door closing makes me jerk my head, taking me out of my stupor. It makes me wonder if what he said in the plane on the way over was all bullshit.
Ignoring his luggage, I walk over to the all glass French doors and open them before stepping out onto the balcony.
I can see the Arc de Triomphe, and a tree lined street that looks like it would be awesome to take a walk through. Though there aren’t hundreds of people walking around, there are a few dozen. They all look like they’re walking with purpose, probably to work.
I hate the mixed signals Timofei gives me. Even more, I hate that it’s not really my place to question anything he does or says. He may think that most of my sister’s advice was crap, but this is one piece she gave me that I already knew just from being my father’s daughter. You never question a man, his schedule, or his demands—not ever. What he says is law. Whether you like it or not.
“What are you doing out here, devochka? It’s a little chilly for your dress,” he murmurs as he places his lips at my neck in a gentle kiss.
“Just looking at the scenery,” I shrug, not turning to look back at him.
Timofei wraps one of his hands around my waist and the other around the front of my chest, pulling my back against him as he rests his chin on the top of my head. “I’ll try to be quick, and we’ll spend the rest of the day in bed, yeah?”
“Okay,” I whisper. He squeezes me once more before he releases me and takes a step back.
I turn around to face him, thrown off slightly, by how handsome he truly is. He’s freshly showered, his blonde hair combed back, his beard neat and tidy. His suit is navy blue and without a single wrinkle from travel. He grins at me, his blue eyes almost twinkling before he winks.
“Get some rest, Devvy,” he whispers. I nod before he turns and walks away from me. “Baby, lock this chain behind me,” he calls out.
I hurry and do as he asks, sliding the chain to ensure it is locked and I’m in my room safely. I’m inside of a fancy hotel suite, alone in my tower as my new husband goes off to some kind of meeting in a foreign country.
I try not to think about all of the things he could be doing, who he could be meeting, or anything that would cause my chest to ache more than it already does as I unpack his suitcase. Then I unpack my own before I walk into the bathroom and gasp at the sight of the bathtub. It’s absolutely stunning. Though baths in hotels are not usually something I do, I decide that it would be criminal not to use this one.
I draw myself a bath and sink into the warm bubbly water, sighing as the scent of eucalyptus envelopes my senses. Closing my eyes, I decide to try and relax and to clear my mind all at the same time. Obsessing over where, what, or possibly who Timofei is out doing will do no good.
It’s not my place to know. If he wants me to, he’ll tell me—a hard lesson I learned from my childhood. My father did not have a problem teaching the eight of us lessons, and he did, without reservation. I learned pretty quickly, watching my siblings bear the brunt of my father’s harsh lessons, but that doesn’t mean that I was a perfect child. I had my own curiosities and would voice them, earning a slap to the face more often than I wished.
My father didn’t do as much mental damage to me as he did the others. He didn’t torture me with mind-games. For that, I’m grateful. Maybe it was because I learned quickly by watching them. Brenna says it was because I’m his favorite, but I doubt that much is true.
I frown, at allowing myself to turn back to a place that is no longer my life. I need to focus on the present and not worry about the past. I am no longer in my father’s home, but instead in Timofei’s.
I need to make sure that I do what is expected of me as his wife.
Whatever he needs. Whatever he wants. Without reservation. I’ve already spoken up a few times out of turn, and I’m thankful that his reactions have been amusement; but I’m not foolish enough to think that it will always be the case. I need to do better.