“Sasha!” Maxim’s alarmed voice cuts through the din in my ears. “Pull over, lyubimaya. Pull over here.” Maxim indicates a turn and then another into a parking lot.
I stop the car and drop my forehead onto the steering wheel to bawl like a baby.
“Fuck. What did I say? Sasha? Look at me, sugar.”
I try to look at him, but I’m totally falling apart. The definition of a hot mess. I don’t even know why I’m crying. I’m not sad. I’m just totally overcome. “Nobody’s ever supported my dreams,” I choke, trying to see him through my tears. “Nobody.”
I realize it’s true. My mom wasn’t a bad mom, but she was realistic. She taught me that arranging my life around a man was the only option. And her emotional energy was always taken up with my father. Of course, my dad forbade me to act in Russia and made it clear that I’d be coming home after college, and that would be the end of it.
My friends in college—well, they would never tear me down, but there was an element of competition. We all wanted the same thing, only they had a much better chance at it. I played the support role because I knew that path could never be for me.
“Do you… “ It’s hard to speak through my hiccups and sobs. “Do you really think I could act? I mean, you’ve never seen me.”
“I know you can, sugar.” He cups my face in his hands and thumbs away my tears. “There’s nothing you can’t do. You have crazy talent. You’re smart. You’re beautiful. And now you have a shit-ton of money at your disposal to create a support team. Nothing’s going to stop you, lyubimaya.”
“I’m sorry,” I croak. “I don't know why I’m crying. This is ridiculous.”
“I’m sorry you weren’t supported. But I’ve got your back now. We’ll make it happen. Okay?”
I can hardly believe what he’s telling me. Part of me still thinks he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I mean, the theatre business is cut-throat. I can’t just show up and say “I’m here” and get an acting job. But even the glimmer of hope—the idea I might even get to dabble. To play a tiny role in a tiny community theater—sounds better than nothing. Even at the very worst, I could use my money to become a patron of the theatre and be in the world as a benefactor.
I blink my tear-dotted lashes, peering at his handsome face. “Why would you want this for me? Doesn’t it make me harder to protect?”
He shakes his head with total confidence. “No one will touch you. You’re safe with me. I’ll make sure of it. Living in Chicago isn’t perfect for your career, but you can afford to fly out to L.A. if it gets to that. For now, getting started here might be exactly what you need. Who knows, right?”
“Wow.” The sobs finally subside, and my breath calms. “I can’t believe it.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t bring it up sooner.”
I stare into his dark eyes, drawing strength from him. My whole world just changed. My reality flipped ass over teakettle a second time, only this time I couldn’t be more overjoyed. It’s like he just handed me a new shiny life on a platter.
“Blagodaryu vas,” I whisper. Thank you.
He strokes his knuckles down my cheek lightly. “I told you there was nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
I let out a watery laugh. “You told me that as an incentive to give you blowjobs.”
He grins back and gestures to the car. “Look what it got you.”
I shake my head, still not believing it. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
Maxim goes still. When he speaks, I’m certain the answer will be the truth. “Because you’re mine,” he says simply.
I blink rapidly. “Even though you didn’t want me?”
He stares. There’s no hint of a smile on his face. None of the casual, flippant charm. “I may not have wanted you when we married. But I want you now,” he says with total seriousness.
I believe him.
“I may want you, too,” I whisper, fresh tears glimmering in my eyes.
He lifts his chin toward the ignition. “Drive your new car. I like to see you happy.”
I smile and start the car back up. “You’re getting the best blowjob of your life tonight.”
“Mmm.” Maxim adjusts his cock in his pants, a smug look on his face. “I do like you on your knees.”
Chapter 16
Sasha
I’m lounging on the couch watching Game of Thrones with Dima, Nikolai and Pavel. Maxim, Ravel and Oleg are off somewhere on business.
I haven’t had much of a chance to talk to Lucy—she’s always either at work or locked in the bedroom with Ravil, so when I see her walking to the door in a bathrobe and carrying a towel, I ask where she’s going.
“To the rooftop pool.” She rubs her belly. “It’s my saving grace these days.”
I shoot an accusing look at Nikolai and Pavel. “No one told me there’s a pool on the roof.”
“There’s a pool on the roof,” Pavel offers.
I smack him with the back of my hand and jump up. “May I join you?”
“Of course.”
“Give me one minute,” I say, shooting off for the bedroom to change into a bikini.
Pavel whistles when I come out with a towel wrapped around my waist, then winces. “I’m sorry. Please don’t tell Maxim I did that. I don’t want my dick cut off.”
“Oh good. Something to hold over your head next time I want something from the kitchen.” I smirk and head to Lucy.
She’s blonde, probably ten years older than I am, and very serious. Not unkind but not the overly smiley type.
As we walk out, I mutter, “I can’t believe no one told me about the pool. I know I’m under lockdown, but wouldn’t that be safe enough?”
Lucy shoots me a sidelong glance. “How are you doing with the lockdown?”
“I’m sick of it.” I shrug. “But honestly, I’m used to some degree of restriction. My father always had people following and watching me.”
She leads me up a short flight of stairs and onto a beautiful rooftop with a hot tub and pool. Shade umbrellas and potted flowers and trees surround the pool, and there’s a patch of fake grass. “And being married to Maxim? I heard that wasn’t exactly your choice.”
Or his. She leaves that part off.
At the side of the pool, she opens a box and pulls out a kick board, which she offers me.
I take it, and she pulls out a second one for herself.
“No, it wasn’t. What did you hear?”
She hesitates. I gather she’s the type who is too polite to speak about private matters. But I want to know what Maxim told the guys. What they think of me.
“I know you’re the daughter of the boss in Moscow. And he arranged your marriage to Maxim.”
“Yes.” I follow her as she wades down the steps into the pool. The water is nice—just cool enough to be refreshing, but not to shock my body or give me a chill. She tucks the kickboard under her chest and frog-kicks through the water. I do the same.
“It sounded like Maxim and your father were once very tight.” She glances at me to verify. “And I understand they had a falling out, but Maxim was still loyal.”