Champagne Venom (Orlov Bratva, #1)(50)

He holds up a hand. “And I’ll keep to my word. You want to work? Go right ahead. But I will make sure you’re provided for all the same. It is my duty to make sure you want for nothing.”

I swallow hard, trying to figure out how to navigate through this minefield I’ve just walked into. It’s every human’s dream, right? Complete and total freedom. Money will no longer dominate my every waking thought. I’ll never be homeless again.

So why does it feel so wrong?

“Misha,” I say softly, taking a step forward. “Listen… I can’t have you bankroll my entire life. I can’t be dependent on you for everything.”

“That’s how marriage works.”

“Oh? Does that mean you’re dependent on me?”

The look in his eyes gives me my answer.

“That’s what I thought.” I shake my head in frustration. “I need to have some autonomy. I need to feel good about myself. And if you keep shoveling money into my account, it’ll just make me feel like…

like…”

“Yes?”

I exhale slowly. “Like I’m being bought. Like I’m being kept.”

“Tell me, Paige,” he says, his silver eyes punching with brightness, “what did you expect to feel?”

The breath catches in my throat. The worst part about it is that he has a point.

A marriage with benefits. That’s what I signed up for.

But it isn’t what I want.

Equality. That’s what I want. Whether our marriage is real or not, I want to be equals with my husband… But how on earth I can achieve that when he’s so far above me remains a mystery.

“Excuse me,” I mumble, already backing out of the room.

His hand lifts towards me. For a moment, I think he’s going to stop me from leaving. But then his mouth shuts and he lets me go.





37

MISHA

It’s been days and I still haven’t shared a bed with my wife.

After Paige fell asleep in the greenhouse hammock the night we were married, I spent most of the following hours sitting in the dark at her side, sipping the last of the champagne and watching her naked chest rise and fall.

Her eyelashes fluttered every so often. She sighed a lot, too, almost as if even the act of sleeping couldn’t offer her relief from the heaviness she carries around at all times.

I wonder if some of that heaviness comes from the man she thought she married.

“You want me to find her husband?” Konstantin asks, yanking me out of my reverie.

“I am her husband,” I say sharply.

He holds up his hands. “Ex-husband. Pardon me.”

“He’s not her ex-anything. Their marriage was fraudulent. I’m the only husband she’s ever had.”

Konstantin raises his eyebrows, and I immediately regret the fiery possessiveness in my words. I’d rather not have my cousin making assumptions about my feelings where Paige is concerned.

The woman is certainly attractive. But lust and love are not the same thing.

And while I’m willing to give in where my lust for her is concerned, I will never compromise on the latter.

Love just gets you killed.

“Do you have reason to believe he’s going to be a problem?” Konstantin asks. “I mean, she hasn’t seen or heard from him in a while, right?”

“No, but I want to cover my bases. The man embezzled from his own company, dried their joint accounts, and disappeared on his woman. I need to know who I’m dealing with if he ever shows up again.”

“I’ll get right on it,” he says.

“Good. Have the documents been drawn up for the last of the mergers?”

“It’s all in the works. Almost done.”

I nod. “Let me know as soon as they come through. Ivanov is going to lose his shit once he realizes we’ve bought out half his kingdom from right under him.”

Konstantin smiles. “I can taste the victory already.”

“Then put your tongue back inside your mouth,” I tell him. “We haven’t won until that fucker is choking beneath the heel of my boot.”

“Just save me a front row seat,” he says with the same fervor that burns inside me. As much of a clown as he so often is, there is a killer beneath that smirk. A killer who saw my brother die unjustly, just like I did. A killer who will never forget that day.

Then he clears his throat, a telltale sign that he’s about to bring up something I’d rather avoid talking about. “Your mother called me last night. She asked about you.”

I keep my expression uninterested. “And what did you tell her?”

“Don’t worry: I kept your pretty little secret,” Konstantin says grudgingly. “But I didn’t like it.”

I wave a hand at him. “I’ll tell them eventually.”

“When?” he presses, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “After your first child is born?

Or are you aiming to give your mother a heart attack by introducing her to her eighteen-year-old grandchild?”

I roll my eyes. “I’ve forgotten how dramatic you can be.”

“Liar. You never forget anything.”

The dog tag around my neck settles into the hollow of my chest like a metal reminder of his words.