CHAPTER 9
Gavril
I looked out over the twinkling lights of LA, a task that usually soothed me, but this time it only pissed me off.
How could I have screwed this plan up so fucking badly?
Taking a long draw of my vodka, I let the fiery liquid burn a path to my stomach, not caring that I had consumed far too much alcohol tonight. Normally I didn’t like to. I was a man who liked to keep his head clear and his thoughts direct. I hated men who got drunk, knowing that they could make a mistake that could cost them their lives.
Tonight, though, I drank for the sheer fact that I had accomplished all that I had set out to do, as well as to quench some of my need for my wife. All it had done was get me to a place that her scent, her looks had driven me nearly insane, and by the time I had gotten her into my room, all I wanted to do was sink myself into her virginal canal.
A short laugh escaped me. Well, the fucking joke was on me. There was nothing virginal about Sveta.
No, that wasn’t Sveta. All the concerns, all the questions I had in my mind from the first time we had met now made sense. The woman lying in my bed wasn’t Stanislav’s daughter. She was a consummate actress, one that spoke fluent Russian and did bear a resemblance to the deceased.
Another swallow of my whiskey didn’t make me feel any better, and I hurled the glass toward the distant lights, satisfied when I heard the glass shatter somewhere in the dark. I was surprised that she had come clean so quickly, likely not sure how to handle the fact that I could tell she wasn’t a virgin. Truth be told, she could have lied to me, told me any story about how she lost it, and I would have likely believed her.
Naomi Spencer. The name didn’t ring a bell, but it wasn’t her name any longer. I couldn’t very well come out and tell everyone I had been duped, that Sveta was dead and gone. If I did so, then the Krasnaya Bratva would turn their backs on me, and I would be looking at a war.
They believed she was Sveta, and that was all that mattered. Naomi Spencer would play that part, whether she fucking liked it or not.
“Fuck me,” I muttered, all my earlier elation now just a stupid dream. I felt like a fucking fool for thinking that it would be this easy to take over Stanislav’s Bratva. I didn’t blame Anatoly, of course. He couldn’t have known that it wasn’t Sveta. That had been the last place we had tracked her to, and hell, she did look a lot like her.
I envisioned her gleaming pussy, the way she had haltingly looked at me with lust in her eyes, and my cock twitched to life. Fuck. At least she would be a good fuck if nothing more. I could only imagine what she could do if I took my time, bringing her to the pinnacle of her orgasm before letting her down and making her beg for me to do it again.
I would get something out of this marriage, and it would be Naomi warming my bed.
And I was going to follow through with my other plans as well. No one knew save Marchetti that she wasn’t Sveta, so there was no harm in continuing the ruse of implanting a child in her womb and parading her around in front of her loyal Bratva. That was what they wished to see, and I was going to give it to them.
Once the baby was born, I would claim it as my own and get rid of my fake wife. It hadn’t been the plan before, but now that she held the secrets that could bring my plan down around my ears, I would have to dispose of her.
Until then, I would enjoy Naomi in my bed.
At least she wasn’t without fight. I remembered being shocked at how she seemed to be so defiant at first, how she’d tried to kill me yesterday when I gave her the opportunity. Now all the pieces were falling into place as to why she really would want to see me dead, and perhaps I should have killed her when I had the chance. Sveta would have probably been meek, scared, willing to do whatever it took to make me happy, and I would have been fucking bored with her.
Hell, probably even the sex would have been boring, almost like a chore. Even though my plans were going down a different path, I couldn’t help but think that this was going to work out to my advantage. I would have a woman at my side who had a strong will, a woman whose genes, the fight in them, would pass on to our child.
Perhaps it wasn’t all that bad after all.
“Master.”
I turned to find Vera standing in the doorway of the terrace, her thin body framed by the low light within the house. “Vera, you should be in bed.”
She walked out to where I was standing, wringing her hands, and I hid my sigh. While Vera was loyal, I swore that God had put her in my path to damn my soul at every turn.
“Your bride,” she started, catching my attention. “She is crying.”
“She’s crying because she’s young and not used to the rough sex,” I lied smoothly, slicing my hands through my hair. “She will get used to it.”
Vera arched a brow, clearly displeased with my answer. “I found her in the hallway, unable to find her room. She seemed hurt.”
A moment of panic sliced through me, but I pushed it aside. While I had been rough with Naomi, it clearly wasn’t her first time, and I doubted that any part of her was truly hurt.
Perhaps a bit stunned. Frowning at my sudden change of thoughts, I cleared my throat. I didn’t give a shit whether she was crying or not. She had lied to me, pretended to be someone she wasn’t, and now she had nearly fucked up my plans.
She was lucky that I hadn’t done anything worse to her. “She will be fine,” I reiterated. “But I’m certain you will mother her to death and make it all better for her.” While Vera wasn’t the soft type, she sure hovered enough as it was.
Vera’s lips twisted, and it was evident that she didn’t like my answer. “A crying wife is no good, master.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at her. “And why is that?”
“A crying wife is unhappy,” she replied evenly. There was no tremor in her voice as she bluntly told me what I had done wrong, and I knew I wouldn’t see very much by way of emotion in Vera. Unlike the others, I had never seen Vera afraid of me before, no matter how pissed off I was. There were rumors that she had been brought up in a Russian military household, but I hadn’t confirmed that fact. “An unhappy wife will become an unfaithful wife.”
Unfaithful.
That was laughable at this point now. Hell, I thought I was marrying a moldable, inexperienced wife, but now I had clearly an experienced woman in my home. A woman I didn’t even know anything about but would find out everything about before the sun rose on another day.
“And an unfaithful wife is a dangerous wife,” she added in a low voice. “A wife who is willing to do whatever it takes to get out of a marriage she is unhappy in. She will trade your secrets with your enemies, find ways to rid herself of you, and then where will you be, master? You will be in danger.”
I rubbed my chin with my hand, thinking of her words. I hadn’t thought about that before, but she was right. Any person, and not just a woman, would try to find a way out, and naturally they would move toward the enemy. Knowing who Naomi was now posed a huge threat to my plans, and if she told anyone else, I would lose everything, even my life.
“Love her,” Vera urged. “Do not give her a reason to stray.”
I snorted. Love her? I had no interest in the word. Love was a weakness. Love didn’t exist in realms like mine. “You are a fool, woman.”
“You don’t understand,” Vera explained, coming to stand next to me, looking out over the night as I was before she interrupted me. “She needs to feel as if she is cared for, or she will start looking elsewhere for that feeling. If you wish to keep her as your own, then you need to show a measure of care for Sveta.”
Rage flared in my chest again. That wasn’t Sveta, but Vera didn’t know that, and I wanted to ensure that she continued to not know. I had to keep the secret close to myself so that the chances of it being leaked were only to a few select group of people.
Word was going to get out that I had married Sveta as it was already being circulated through our channels. That had been part of my plan, to put the rest of the Bratvas on notice that I was making a claim to the defunct Krasnaya Bratva.
Now there was a concern that once Marchetti found out, he would know that the claim was false. But if I could trap Naomi into marriage with a kid, then I wouldn’t have anything to worry about. Withholding a child from his or her mother was enough to keep a woman in line. “I’m not worried,” I told her. “But I will take your suggestions under advisement.”
Vera dipped her head. “Thank you, master. That is all I ask.”
I didn’t respond as she walked away and disappeared back into the house. One thing that Vera did state truthfully was that Naomi could be used against me as a weapon. She could be taken by my enemies and held so that I would comply with whatever demand came about. Any boss that decided to marry and carry on his bloodline ran that risk. When Naomi became pregnant with my heir, she would be at a higher risk of being taken.
Sveta or not, she had taken a great risk in becoming my wife.