I showered, and then threw on a T-shirt, not lingering for a look in the mirror. I didn’t need a mirror to know that the muscles around my face were tense, that my eyes were clouded. At least here, I’d get a good night’s sleep without the risk of having to see him, and maybe tomorrow I’d be stronger. I went to the kitchen to get water before I fell into bed.
Leaning against the counter, I drank, staring into the living room, my mind both humming and exhausted, and filled only with thoughts of him and not my plight as it should have been.
A few moments later, the glass slipped from my hand as I watched the door in horror. My door, the one I had locked and chained, was unlocked.
Someone was coming in.
My heart leaped into my throat as I wildly looked around the kitchen, searching for a weapon. I grabbed a knife from the butcher block and looked at the door. If I had any sense, I would run, but Nora hadn’t raised a coward.
I wouldn’t run, and I wouldn’t go down without a fight.
So I stood there, knife in hand, as the chain, the one that had only minutes ago seemed sturdy, gave. The door creaked and then flew off its hinges.
And in walked my new husband.
Eight
Sergei
The first thing I saw was the smooth stretch of creamy brown thigh and small patch of black satin that covered her pussy.
The second was the gleam of the sharp knife she held.
“Ready to kill me so soon after the wedding?” I asked as I walked farther into her house. It was polished, rich-looking, just like her.
I’d never seen her like this. Her dark hair was down, the curls brushing her shoulders. I didn’t look lower, but the glimpse of her thighs and panties were enough to start my blood flowing south.
“Knocking wasn’t an option?” she asked as she put the knife down on the counter and then crossed her arms in a defensive motion that only brought more attention to her full breasts.
It had only been hours since I’d last heard her speak, but again I was reminded of how different her voice was than I had thought it would be. When I’d first glimpsed her, I’d thought her voice would match her outside, sharp, polished, but the sound that came out of her mouth was soft, warm, friendly, and it immediately put me at ease like it had every time I heard it.
What the fuck was that? I hadn’t experienced anything like it before, and I had no idea what to do about it. So instead, I answered. “Nope.”
She scowled, which only made me smile harder.
“I’m tired and want to get some sleep. What do you want?” she said.
That question took on an entirely different meaning when she stood barefoot in panties, but I didn’t think my very lovely bride would appreciate me pointing that out. Instead, I kept my eyes on her as I walked closer, impressed when she hadn’t moved an inch or changed her expression.
“If you’re tired, you should be at home,” I said, not telling her that sleep was the last thing on my mind, and given the way she stared at me, angry but also full of desire, it was the last thing on hers too.
“I thought I was,” she said.
I laughed. “I expected more, Daniela,” I said.
She frowned, the question clear in her face even before she spoke it. “What do you mean?”
“You lied to me just now. You know your home is with me,” I said.
She frowned slightly but didn’t deny it. “Sorry to disappoint you,” she said sarcastically.
“You didn’t. I know you’re still adjusting. I hadn’t expected you to hide though,” I said.
Those words got the anticipated reaction, and she stood up straighter, her movement drawing my eye to her bare thighs before I managed to again look at her face.
“I don’t hide,” she said, and then she pursed her lips into a thin line that practically screamed her offense. The desire to kiss that look away nearly stole my breath.
But I recovered and continued. “Don’t you? What do you call this?”
“So I’m a prisoner?” she said, even more haughty now, only solidifying my certainty that I was on the right track.
“Daniela, you can make this about me if you want, but I know the truth,” I said, stepping even closer to her.
“And what’s your truth?” she asked.
“You’re scared,” I said.
The frown on her face deepened, and then she looked up at me with fire in her eyes. “I’d be stupid if I wasn’t scared of you.”
I huffed, put my hand on her hip without breaking our gazes. “You’re not scared of me, Daniela,” I said.
She pursed her lips, again making me notice how plump, how delicious they looked.
“What do you think I’m scared of then?” she asked, her voice a low whisper.