“Some guy did hit me,” Vik says, stepping out of her room. “You know, neither of you are being quiet, and I’m trying to get my beauty sleep.” She’s dressed in a simple brown shirt and pants, looking casually effortless. That makes me cry even harder.
Vik’s eyes widen. “Sofiya? What happened? Other than what I saw.”
How can I tell my sisters about what Mikhail just did to me? He made me feel amazing and protected but also vulnerable and on display. It was a show of strength to his men, but he used my body to do it. I honestly don’t know how to feel.
Vik tentatively places her hand on my back. My tears refuse to stop. My two sisters comfort me while I cry. Eventually, my tears stop, and I pull away from Mila.
“Thank you,” I tell them.
“You don’t have to thank us,” Mila says. “We’re sisters. It’s our job to make sure each of us is ok.”
“Speak for yourself,” Vik mutters.
I stare at her.
She smiles and shakes her head. “I was joking.”
“Bad time to make a joke,” I remind her.
“Fine. Sorry. We both had a rough evening. You were used as a human coffee table, and I was slapped in the face. I mean, I was slapped in the face, but whatever.”
“Vik, are you trying to say you had it worse than me?” I ask.
“No! I was just stating the facts. Tonight was a disaster. I never want to repeat it again. You know, now I’m glad I’m not married to Mikhail. I can’t imagine having a husband who would allow me to be in that position in the first place.”
I bristle. “Mikhail didn’t allow that to happen. He saved me from Andrei.”
“Sure.”
I know what Vik is doing. She didn’t get Mikhail, so she’s trying to turn me against my husband.
I pat her arm. “I love you, you know. But sometimes, you’re the worst.”
Her mouth drops open.
I leave my two sisters standing in the hallway and head back into my bedroom. The bedroom I share with my husband.
Chapter
Nine
SOFIYA
Waking up beside Mikhail leaves me with conflicted feelings. His warmth makes me draw closer to him, while the coldness that simmers underneath makes me want to get out of this bed.
He touched me in front of all of his men, showing me off like I was his trophy. I already knew Mikhail was possessive. I just never thought he’d do something like that.
And the worst part of all is I liked it.
No. I loved it.
I loved how falling apart in his arms from his touch felt. I loved that he put Andrei in his place. I loved being held by Mikhail. Being carried up to our room. I loved it.
And yet, I can’t help but feel like it was wrong. I’m a woman, not a trophy. The emotional side to me says Mikhail doesn’t have any more claim to me than any other man.
Whereas the logical side to my brain knows that none of that is true. I belong to Mikhail. He owns me now, and there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s frightening how much I want to be with him. How much I want him to touch me like that again. My body throbs at the memory.
It’s because of that fear that I also want to escape. No one should have this kind of hold over me. I should be free to just … what? Be by myself? I’m by myself most of the days anyway. That’s not what I want. I just want to know I’ll be fully safe.
Even though I know Mikhail would keep me safe from any man who wanted to do me harm, the question is—who will save me from Mikhail?
I stare at his strong back as he sleeps. The sight of him shirtless leaves me breathless. Mikhail has the strength to hurt me, but he hasn’t. Yet. I still can’t get the memory of him whipping Irina out of my mind. Mikhail made it clear I have a say in our relationship, but do I really? Because I’m not so sure I do.
Mikhail has all the power here. I have nothing.
He stirs, waking up. I quickly close my eyes and calm my breathing, pretending I’m still asleep. I can feel Mikhail sit up. I can feel his gaze on me.
“I know you’re awake,” he says, startling me. Slowly, I open my eyes. “Why were you pretending?”
“I’m not sure,” I admit. I’ve found that with Mikhail, it’s better just to be honest.
His eyes rake over my body. I’m in a lacy, satiny short nightgown. Those are the only types of pajamas Mikhail bought for me. I’m distinctly aware of how naked I am underneath my outfit. I never bother with bras or underwear when I sleep. Before Mikhail, it was never a big deal. No one ever slept in the same room as me.
Now, that’s all different.
He rests his hand on my stomach. It’s intimidating just how large his hands are compared to my body.
“What’s going to happen to Andrei?” I ask.
