Mary gives me a withering stare. “She never did anything to deserve it.” Her words are a slap to the face.
“See you at dinnertime,” I mutter and leave the kitchen. So, Mikhail was married, and he didn’t think to tell me. Why? Was her death that painful he can’t talk about it? Or did he not love her and didn’t care if she died?
With a deep breath, I force myself to knock on Mikhail’s office door. I need to go to the source.
“Come in,” Mikhail says.
I open the door.
“Sofiya? What can I do for you? I’m in the middle of work right now.”
“I know. I don’t mean to bother you. But I was just told that you were married before, and you didn’t mention it to me.”
Mikhail tenses for a moment before nodding. “Mary. She told you.”
“Yes.” I wring my hands together. Standing before him while he sits behind his imposing desk is intimidating. He has all the power. “If I’m going to give myself to you, then you have to be honest with me. I have a right to know my husband.”
“You’re correct. You do have that right.” He sighs and leans back in his chair. “I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t see the need to. Natasha and I were in an arranged marriage, one my father set up for us. We married young. I was only eighteen. I lost her a few years later. We didn’t love each other. That never really came, but we tolerated each other. We even became friends. Then I lost her. I haven’t thought about her in years. Natasha was my past, but you’re my future. I don’t really care to look back.”
His words filter through my mind. “Ok. Thank you for telling me.”
“You’re welcome. Is there anything else you’d like to know?”
“Can I trust you?”
“You’ll have to figure that out for yourself. If you decide to join me later tonight, then you’ll know the answer to that. If you don’t, then you also have your answer.”
I grip my hands together to stop them from shaking. “But you want me to be submissive. Don’t you want to make those decisions for me?”
He smiles slightly, which makes his hardened face even more handsome. I push the thought away so I can focus on what he says. “When it comes to this, I need you to choose. I would never force you to become my sub.”
“But didn’t you force me into this marriage?”
“Did I? You didn’t have to marry me. You could have chosen Boris. But instead, you decided to come with me. I didn’t force you, Sofiya. I didn’t kidnap you. You’re here of your own free will.”
My heart is pounding so fast I can barely think. “So, if I wanted to leave, I could?”
He places his hands on his desk—so large and imposing. “I wouldn’t go that far. When you married me, you became mine. I want you safe. So, yes, you can leave the house if you want, but under my supervision or with a guard. Never by yourself. But you’re not going to leave me, Sofiya. You’re bound to me now.”
It’s an illusion of choice, which angers me. I’m just angry. Angry at him. Angry at the situation he’s put me in. Angry at losing my parents.
“I don’t know what you want from me,” I admit. “You want me to choose to be with you, but you chose that for me. So, which is it?”
“It’s both.” He sits back down. “I want you, so I took you. But I want you to want me, too. Which is why I’m giving you a choice now. Submit to me fully, and I will let your sisters come here. If you choose not to, then we can continue on as we are, but you’re sisters will not be joining us.”
Do I want to continue as we have been? With Mikhail intimidating me? With feeling lonely every day? If I submit to Mikhail, maybe I won’t be so lonely anymore. But I would be giving up every ounce of power I have.
And I’m still scared of what he’ll do with it.
“I need more time to think,” I say.
He nods. “Then I’ll see you tonight. Or not.” He turns back to his computer, silently telling me I’m dismissed.
I leave his office even more confused about how I feel.
How am I supposed to know what to expect tonight if I’ve never been in this position before?
Then a thought occurs to me—there’s someone who knows what Mikhail’s like as a dom.
I need to talk to Irina.
I’m sitting in a quaint coffee shop across the street from Mikhail’s apartment building. Well, I guess my apartment building now.
I told Mikhail I wanted to go out for coffee, and he let me, just with a guard in tow. Danil, my guard, stands a few feet away from me. I wanted my space to do what I have to do.
When I spot Irina stepping up behind the counter, I remind myself of my plan. Irina has answers to my questions.
I knew she worked here or frequented here when I saw her bag from last night. I just didn’t realize she worked right across the street from where I live. From where Mikhail lives.
I slowly approach the counter. Irina smiles at first, then tenses when she recognizes who I am.
She speaks in Russian, holding onto a pen and a notepad.
“You know I speak English,” I tell her. “And I want to talk to you. When’s your next break?”
“In a half hour. Why do you want to talk?”
