Vlad
I want to comfort my bride, but there’s nothing to say. I’m the cause of her distress and what’s done is done.
Still, it bothers me more than I care to admit to feel her shaking in my arms. To see her come undone.
“Will you let her go?” Mika mutters in Russian so quietly I barely hear it. He doesn’t look at me when he asks.
“Yes. Eventually,” I tell him, also in Russian.
He flicks his wary gaze at me and gives a single nod before looking out the window.
“I won’t hurt her, and I won’t force sex.” It’s a fucking awkward conversation to have with a twelve-year-old, but I feel like I have to tell him. I don’t know what the kid’s seen. His mother was a whore. I don’t know how Aleksi or other johns treated her. Mika may be scarred from things that were done to her.
Worse, he might be deadened to the concept of consent, of how a woman should be treated. And I’m providing a shit example. So I need him to know this.
He doesn’t answer, which is fine. I look at him until he glances back up at me.
“Never force a woman to have sex, Mika. It’s wrong.”
Uncertainty and pain flash in his eyes, and I’m glad I persisted. He is scarred.
“Do you agree?” I press.
He nods quickly. “Da.”
“Good.” I release him from my gaze. I’m still stroking Alessia’s arms. She’s calmed down now, although I still detect a tremor in her limbs.
“You will like my place,” I say in English, to both of them. “It’s quite comfortable.”
Neither one of them answer.
The limo pulls up at my sprawling country home on the bank of the Volga river at sunset. Rosy-hued clouds make a stunning backdrop for the stately mansion.
It’s strange to be back. I’ve been away for thirteen months now. Banished to America because a conniving woman tricked me into her bed.
The servants know I’m coming. My housekeeper, Zoya-the servant who attended Alessia at the church-stands outside with her husband Yegor. My men line up outside to greet us, as well.
The driver opens my door and I lift Alessia out and onto her feet and follow her out. Mika climbs out and takes it all in, nothing showing on his expression.
“It’s nice,” Alessia concedes, her gaze traveling over my enormous mansion and the gated grounds surrounding it. She points in the direction of the thicket of trees. “Is that the river?”
“Da.” I smile. She could so easily be a bitch right now. Decide to hate everything, show me only her ire. But she doesn’t. Her first words are “it’s nice.”
She’s nice.
So much sweeter than I imagined.
Guilt at stealing her from her life wars equally with the desire to keep her-permanently.
I reward her sweetness with the courtesy I didn’t extend at the church. “Alessia, you already met Zoya, my housekeeper. She doesn’t speak English, but she will see to all your needs. I will get you a translator until you learn from your Rosetta Stone.”
Alessia sticks a hand out and Zoya reluctantly takes it and bows over it.
“Her husband, Yegor. He’s the caretaker.”
Yegor bows.
In Russian, I introduce Mika to my staff. I already advised them about my prisoner, but I forgot to mention my new ward.
Zoya glowers at him, like she’s afraid he’s going to mess up my house, but of course, she says nothing.
“Come, both of you. I’ll give you a tour.” I show them around the house. I’ve already given instructions to my staff to remove any access to phones or internet and my men will surround all exits to keep Alessia from leaving. This way, she can be free to move about the mansion.
“This will be your room, Mika.” I open the door to one of the guest suites.
He goes over and sits on the bed, giving it a little bounce. Then he gazes at me, his blue-grey eyes searching. “For how long?”
I shrug. “We’ll see.” I’m not one to make plans or promises. I don’t know how this thing with Alessia will play out. Or if I will even want to stay in Russia. I don’t particularly even want to return to my former life here.
It was the wrong thing to say, though.
Alessia glares at me, lips tightening.
I frown back at her, but then sigh and try to make it right.
“You can stay here as long as you like, Mika. It’s your home.”
Apparently it still wasn’t the right response because Alessia shakes her head at me.
I give her the “what?” gesture and she shakes it harder.
I toss Mika the remote to the television in his room. “Feel free. Or go explore. As you like.” I wave my hand.
Outside the room, Alessia pulls me down the hall away from the room, but lays into me immediately. “Mika needs stability. You don’t tell him he’s welcome to stay. He’s not a houseguest. You tell him he’ll be with you, whether it’s here or elsewhere. That he’s yours and you’re going to look after him.” Now she digs in her heels and pulls us to a stop. “You are going to look after him, aren’t you?”
I sigh.
This was not a commitment I was prepared to make. The boy became my responsibility by default, not because I chose it.
“Listen, I wasn’t looking to become a father. You know how unfit I am. I’ve involved the boy in serious crimes. Kept him from a proper education.”
“He just needs someone to care about him. He’s looking to bond. Until you make sure he knows you’re committed, he’s hardly got a shot at becoming a decent human being.”
I curse in Russian and run my fingers through my hair. “Your opinion is noted,” I grumble. “Now come on, bride. it’s time to call in for your dowry.”