Deceitful Vows (Marital Privileges #2)

10. Zoya

10

ZOYA

A n unusual aroma wakes me. It isn’t unpleasant, more unexpected. It is citrusy and fresh, a stark contradiction to the smells I’m accustomed to waking up to in my apartment.

My building is on the worst street in Myasnikov, yet probably the safest.

Greed is a slavery that will never entrap the poor.

After scrubbing a hand over my eyes I’m certain are a mess, I peer in the direction of the scent. The fruity fragrance makes sense when I discover an oversized glass of orange juice on the bedside table. It is butted against an unopened packet of pain medication.

My body is sore enough to warrant intervention, just not in the way I expected when I gave in to my desires last night. I thought the pain would be unwanted because I never anticipated for it to be a pleasurable throb.

My muscles are sore, but it is more in response to the number of orgasms I experienced than the side effects of endometriosis.

Last night was amazing, and although some could say my high rating could be attributed to a long abstinence from sex, I’m doubtful.

Andrik rocked my world, proving his cocky statement in Dr. Hemway’s examination room was true.

No man has ever fucked me like he did, and I doubt any man after him will compare.

Is it wrong of me to contemplate future bedmates so soon after my last conquest? I would have said no if I’d detected an ounce of Andrik’s presence in his home. If the lack of arrogance in the air is anything to go by, he left hours ago.

Although caffeine will always be my go-to pick-me-up, I swallow two pain tablets with a mouthful of orange juice before slinging my legs off the edge of the bed and taking a leisurely stretch.

I’m as naked as the day I was born, which means there’s no coverage for the mess my condition caused the no-doubt three-thousand-plus thread count sheets.

I had no clue I had bled last night. Not the slightest bit of disgust crossed Andrik’s face when he plucked me from the living room floor and walked me to the kitchen to quieten the loud demands of my hungry stomach.

He was so attentive and sweet while replenishing the energy he had exhausted that the shock of the unexpected treatment saw us undertaking round two shortly after the first round had wrapped up.

That time, dessert was consumed on the kitchen counter.

Page thirty-three was as mind-boggling as the cartoon characters portrayed, and it had me swooning like crazy.

I passed out from exhaustion on Andrik’s mammoth bed seconds after the umpteenth orgasm careened through my body. I’m reasonably sure Andrik was on the brink of exhaustion with me, but I can’t attest to that. That’s how out of it I was.

Mercifully the smears of blood on the sheets are faint. Not faded enough for me not to strip the bedding and search for a washing machine, but they’re not so horrific that I’ll need to purchase a new set.

“Come on. There has to be a laundry room here somewhere,” I murmur to myself when my search of every nook and cranny surrounding the living room comes up empty-handed. There are a hundred spots to hang a coat, but not a single washing machine to be seen.

When I return to the bedroom, lugging the sheets I stripped from the mattress, I sling my eyes to the massive walk-in closet. I only saw one-half of it when I snuck into the bathroom in the darkness of the night to pee away any possible nasties. What I saw was impressive. The room has side-by-side walk-in closets that lead to a bathroom as large as the living room.

I didn’t see a washer–dryer combo, but my visit was shrouded by darkness. It’s large enough to hold a concealed laundry area, so I head toward the opening wide enough to park my car between.

I’ll never be more grateful for a king-size bed when I’m greeted upon entering the walk-in closet.

“Hey there, Sunshine.”

As Mikhail pulls a pair of jeans over his ass, sans underwear, I tug the sheets in close to my body—my naked body.

Mikhail’s grin he fails to hide with a tilted chin announces he heard my gulp. He acts ignorant, though. “Do you always strip the bed after messing the sheets?”

“I… We…” Once again, that stumbling idiot better step back before I smack her. “What are you doing here, Mikhail?” Like a freight train missing the station, the truth smacks into me. “There aren’t two penthouse apartments in this building, is there?” He shakes his head, leaving the excavation search for my brain up to me. “Andrik was so?—”

“Andrik?” Mikhail interrupts, his brow high.

My mouth gapes as horror rains down on me .

Did I invite a stranger into Mikhail’s home?

The hits keep coming.

Did I sleep with said stranger in Mikhail’s bed?

I refuse to mention the other numerous surfaces we treated like a set of a porn movie franchise, or I’ll never leave our exchange with my dignity intact.

Mikhail’s silence bombards me with confusion. Anytime I’m confused, I turn into a blubbering idiot. “He knew the code. He let us in. I assumed this was his penthouse.”

I’m seconds from falling to my knees and begging when Mikhail’s ruse is broken by a hefty stint of laughter. “He knows the code because his tech company designed the system installed here.”

“So you know Andrik?” Please excuse my daftness. I only got a few hours of sleep, and my brain is still in a lust haze.

I breathe out a sigh of relief when Mikhail jerks up his chin, but I still feel terrible that I treated his place of residence like a whore house. I’m also going to need to replace his sheets. Washing them was satisfactory when I thought they belonged to the man partially responsible for the stains. I can’t continue with that ruse now.

“I honestly thought this was Andrik’s place. I would have never?—”

“Stop,” Mikhail interrupts, padding closer like he has no idea I’m naked behind heavenly layers of softness. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for.”

“I used your home as a?—”

“The very thing it was purchased for.” He smiles and winks, and although they shouldn’t, their friskiness conjures up memories of the dark and dangerous man I was wrestling last night. “I didn’t have the laundry installed next to the bedroom for no reason.”

He skirts by me to open a double glossed door at the other end. It exposes the washer–dryer combination I was seeking.

Mikhail takes a moment to relish the gratitude on my face before flicking his eyes to a dresser on his right. “My old college shirts will still swamp you, but I was a little scrawnier back then, so it’ll look more like a dress than a potato sack.” He nudges his head to the bathroom I visited last night. “Spare toothbrushes are in the second drawer, hair dryer is under the vanity, and any folded towel is unused.”

He’s about to give me privacy I’m not sure I deserve before he remembers something that sees him spinning like a ballerina. “There’s a handful of girlie shit in the bottom drawer of the vanity. If they’re not to your satisfaction, I can go grab you anything you need.”

I’m lost to what he’s referencing. Girlie shit could mean anything. Makeup. Deodorant. Those annoying floss sticks Nikita is rarely without. There are literally millions of things he could be referring to.

My cheeks turn the color of beets when he lowers his eyes to the sheets I’m clutching.

On darker sheets, the micro smear wouldn’t be noticeable. On pure-white sheets, it stands out like… You get the picture.

“I’m sure whatever you have is fine. I’m not menstruating. It’s a side effect of a broken… vagina .”

Someone dig a hole so I can bury my shameful face in it.

I’m too weak from embarrassment to do it myself.

Mikhail must have a ton of sisters. He shrugs off my embarrassment as if it is as weightless as a midge before he heads for the exit. “All right. Cool. Though you should probably keep that”—he waves his hand at the lower half of my body—“between us. Andrik’s head is big enough. He’ll have trouble walking if he learns he broke your pussy.”

He twists his torso to face me, his smile matching the one I’m struggling to keep under wraps. He reminds me so much of Nikita. If I didn’t believe opposites attract, I’d be introducing them at the first available opportunity.

Nikita needs someone who will fight tooth and nail to protect her, and although Mikhail’s guns look capable of taking down a mountain lion with one punch, the dusting of a bruise under his eye weakens my hypothesis.

He’d fight to the death, but I need to be one hundred percent confident he’d win before I ever recommend him to Nikita.

Mikhail shifts my focus back to him. “While you shower, I’ll cancel the truckload of chocolate I ordered to tame the beast I thought was pulverizing your uterus and replace the extravagance with a table for two at Tsar’s.” It’s already a fight to hold back my grin, and I lose the battle when he says, “We need to fill our bellies before our second stakeout, and what better place to do that than at the very restaurant our target is scheduled to visit.”

Almost an hour later, I exit Mikhail’s bedroom under the whistling approval of its owner.

“Hot fucking damn, Sunshine. My shirt has never looked so good.” When he signals for me to twirl around, I can’t help but oblige. I still feel horrible for overstretching his hospitality, so I’ll be just as indulging while vying to show my gratitude. “This is hot…” He tugs on my high ponytail. “And this is hot…” His college shirt I knotted into the middle of my stomach with a hair tie is awarded its own yank this time. “But when they’re combined with that…” He playfully growls when his eyes lower to the pleated skirt I’m wearing sans panties since Andrik appears to have taken them with him. “Fuck me. Naughty is the only appropriate word.”

I smile to express my thanks for the confidence boost before I drop my eyes to his mug of coffee. “Would I be pushing the boundaries if I asked for one of those?”

Mikhail cranks his neck to the kitchen island before replying, “Not at all.” He makes me a coffee with the same flare Andrik used last night to make us dinner, before almost handing it to me. I say almost as he pulls it back before I take it. “Did you finish your orange juice?”

“Orange juice?” I murmur, acting stupid.

I’d rather portray an idiot than a lovesick chump who thought her one-night-only bed companion left her post-sex recovery supplies.

I can’t believe I thought the juice and tablets were from Andrik. I’ve never felt more foolish.

My daftness works a charm on Nikita, but Mikhail needs more than puppy dog eyes to pull the wool over his eyes. “You didn’t raw dog those fuckers. They’re the size of horse tablets and taste just as nasty.”

I pout like a child when he returns to his room to fetch the barely touched glass of orange juice.

“Drink this. Then you can have as much coffee as you want.”

“I’m not really a fan of orange juice,” I say through twisted lips.

“And I’m not a fan of emptying used condoms out of my trash cans after a one-night stand I was excluded from, but you don’t see me complaining, do ya?”

I snatch the glass out of his hand and down the entire contents, hopeful the ghastliness of the pulp sliding down my throat will excuse the look of repent trying to cross my face.

I’m not apologetic he was left out of the festivities. I regret that disappointment was the first emotion I felt upon being reminded again that last night was a one-night-only affair.

I’m not looking for anything permanent—it isn’t in the cards for me—but I’d be a liar if I said I wouldn’t take Andrik up on any offer he tosses my way.

Last night was so unreal my uterus isn’t the only thing shuddering in the aftermath of its brilliance. My entire existence is reeling.

When Mikhail winks at me after I hand him the empty glass, I realize I’m getting played by more than one source.

“You play dirty.”

He couldn’t look more shocked if he tried. “We met yesterday, so how are you only just noticing this?”

Realizing I must match wit with wit, I reply, “Probably your marshmallow heart. Soft men usually play it safe, so you caught me off guard. It won’t happen again.”

I return his wink before helming our exit. Tsar’s sells coffee. That isn’t the sole cause of my eagerness to visit the Broadbent Hotel, though. I’m also hopeful the boutique bordering the overpriced restaurant stocks underwear. Aleena exhibits the innocence I was unfairly stripped of when my worth was valued on my fertility status. Meeting her sans panties would only give our mother more reason to burn bridges.

“As I said yesterday, my heart is the only thing soft about me.” As he shadows my walk out of his apartment, Mikhail’s eyes flick up to the camera in the corner of the large space for the quickest second before he says, “But I’m sure you’re aware of that now since you’ve seen me naked.”

He guides me into the elevator before I can offer a rebuttal.