Deceitful Vows (Marital Privileges #2)

16. Zoya

16

ZOYA

“ L et me go.”

I kick, thrash, and fight with a heap of grit, but Andrik’s grip on my waist doesn’t budge an inch. He carries me into Mikhail’s apartment like I’m seconds from having my blood drained from my veins before he forcefully pins me to the armchair he ravished me on last night.

He’s not hurting me, though anyone outside of our duo is unaware of that. Mikhail requests Andrik to calm down numerous times with both his words and his fists before he turns his focus to the man smirking smugly with his shoulder propped on the doorjamb of his entryway.

“Will you say something? This is meant to be a negotiation, not a fucking shakedown.”

Andrik appears as shocked by his confession as I am. It exposes he was unaware of the third man’s inclusion. He merely hid his bewilderment better than I did.

Since I am no longer fighting him, too stunned by the similarities between the three men to continue fighting, Andrik frees me from his grip before he moves to a bar at the side of the massive living area.

Even knowing he’s a cheating asshole won’t stop me from admitting he has a sexy walk. It’s full of arrogance, as cocky as his leering eyes when I don’t immediately race for the door the instant he turns his back to me.

He’s watching me in the glass feature wall on the far side of the dining table.

That’s why I don’t bolt.

I can feel the heat of his covetousness even on the coldest day.

That, and the fact the man I assume is his father is blocking the only exit. His jacket is too bulky to reveal if he is carrying a weapon, and I don’t feel like going home with a bullet wound today.

Nikita has enough on her plate. I don’t want to add more drama to the overflowing dish.

Andrik takes a hefty gulp of whiskey before spinning to face me. A mask has slipped over his eyes. It is the same one he summoned two seconds too late in the elevator.

“How much?” he asks, his voice flat. I’m lost but am not given the chance to announce my confusion. “Discretion comes at a cost, so I need to know how much it will take to secure yours.”

Confusion juts my words. “You want to pay me to keep quiet?”

“Yes,” he answers matter-of-factly.

An expression I don’t know how to read crosses his face when I say, “You don’t need to pay me to keep my mouth shut. I won’t tell a soul about what happened between us.” I should leave it there. It would be the smart thing to do. But playing it safe is boring, and my life needs some color. “Also, it’s a little late to negotiate after the deed has been done.” I lock my eyes with Andrik’s and sneer. “If you were too quick off the mark to get your money’s worth, that’s not my issue.”

Mikhail laughs at the same time the man I assume is his father asks, “You’re a prostitute?”

After flicking my narrowed eyes to a pair identical to Mikhail’s in every way, I wave my hand at his eldest son, who stands frozen.

Andrik isn’t humored like his little brother.

He’s angry.

Good.

“Did you miss what he said? He’s offering to pay me?—”

“For your discretion,” Andrik spits out, his anger rising along with his voice. “Not because you had sex with me.”

“For my discretion?” I drag my hand across my chest that is thrusting so hard I’m on the verge of a heart attack. “I don’t need to be discreet. I’m as free as a bird. Single and ready to mingle.” Andrik looks seconds from blowing his top, yet I continue to push. “So this must be more about you than me. Who do you need to be discreet for, Andrik? Your colleagues? Your family? Your?—”

“His wife,” says the man who suddenly appears nowhere near as worried as he was moments ago. “He’s married.”

I drop my jaw. My shocked act is worthy of an Oscar. “You’re married!”

The buzz of multiple orgasms circles the drain when Andrik keeps his answer short and to the point. “Yes.”

There are no pledges that his wife will never have him the way I’ve had him or falsities that promise his marital status is hours from changing.

He hits me with the honesty he should have awarded me last night, even though I’m skeptical it would have changed the outcome.

I didn’t look for a ring last night because I didn’t want to find one.

My shameful act in the elevator mere minutes ago is proof of this.

With my wounds not deep enough to scar, I dig the blade in more profoundly, ensuring a lesson will be learned from my stupidity. “Ten thousand should do it.”

“What?” Mikhail blurts out his shock instead of keeping it deeply buried like his older brother does.

“That’s about the going rate, isn’t it? Five thousand per… indiscretion .” When his father’s brows furrow, I lose all my scruples. “Last night was technically two indiscretions, but I’m happy to offer a discount since the elevator romp on the way up was a little quick-winded.”

Mikhail’s expression is back to humored.

His father’s is a cross between frustrated and disgusted.

Andrik’s remains unchanged.

He’s still pissed as fuck.

So, naturally, I pour salt over his wounds. “I’d rather cash, but if that isn’t available, I can take a check.”

When Mikhail’s father’s eyes shoot to him, wide and with shock, he says, “I have around six or seven K in the safe. I could probably rustle up another three or four from last night’s takings at Brody’s.”

The room falls silent when Andrik asks, “Who should I make the check out to?”

He pulls a checkbook and pen out of the breast pocket of his suit jacket. The shock of his offer conjures so much silence the click of his pen as he prepares to jot down my details has my heart attempting to leap out of my chest.

But I’m as stubborn as I am stupid.

“Zoya Galdean.” Since I have no intention of entering the prostitution conglomerate, I spell out a last name not on any official documents. “G. A. L. D. E. A. N.”

The rip of the check from the checkbook matches the tear that shreds through my heart when he pulls it from its stub and hands it to me before offering to show me the way out.

“I know the way.”

“Still—”

I race for the door before another word can leave Andrik’s mouth.

Since he sees his son’s check as an affidavit of my promised silence, his father doesn’t block my exit. He steps to the side, smirking with an arrogance that must have been passed down for centuries.

It is too cultured to have been recently unearthed.

Untrusting of elevators, I throw open the emergency exit door next to the service elevator before I begin a multiple-floor descent.

I make it thirty floors before my legs refuse to gallop another flight. They’re still shuddering in the aftermath of two orgasms, but I’m going to pretend anger is the cause of their aching state. It may be the only way they’ll keep moving.

A lady dressed as if she is about to attend the opera startles when I exit the emergency stairwell on her floor. I don’t blame her. I’m a sweaty, sticky mess that doubles the guilt weighing down my shoulders.

Once again, anger is my excuse.

“I forgot they don’t call these buildings skyscrapers for no reason,” I murmur when she peers at me in suspicion when I join her in waiting for the elevator. “My planned exercise regimen far exceeded my capabilities.”

She smiles. It exposes that she knows I’m a lying piece of shit, but she doesn’t call me out on it—thankfully. “Perhaps next time?”

“Perhaps,” I reply as the elevator dings, announcing its arrival.

I gesture for my co-rider to enter first. It is stupid of me to do because her generously plump frame blocks the cause of the spicy scent lingering in the air until it is too late.

I’m once again trapped in the small confines of an elevator with Andrik.

Mercifully, this time around, we’re not the sole occupants.

Mikhail is here as well.

Although Mikhail looks remorseful, I slant closer to the stranger wearing too much perfume than the man I was certain was more a friend than foe only minutes ago.

Mikhail can’t be trusted—and neither the hell can my libido.

Andrik is an asshole, a reincarnation of the devil, yet the first thing my heart did when it spotted him in the corner of the space far more generous than its less stellar counterpart was stutter.

When a breathy cussword bounces off the brushed steel doors of the elevator, I keep my head front and center but veer my eyes to the side.

Mikhail glares at Andrik like he just kicked him in the shin, before he shifts his focus to the woman forcing enough distance between Andrik and me to ensure I will make it through this elevator ride unscathed. “Is that a Rachel Deprovor brochure?”

I glare at Mikhail with flaring nostrils when his question steals the devotion of my only lifeline. “Why, yes, it is. How observant of you, young man. Are you a fan of Rachel Depovor’s work?”

I wordlessly plea for Mikhail not to leave me defenseless when our co-rider twists to face him.

After the quickest flash of a remorseful smirk, he answers, “Of course. Did you hear she was having a showing at Br…”

I miss the rest of his reply. I can’t hear anything over my pulse raging through my body when a tattooed hand curls around my elbow, and I’m tugged back until my back is splayed flush with Andrik’s erratically panting chest.

The zap of our bodies colliding shudders my thighs and causes an arrogant, big-headed smirk to twist Andrik’s lips. It takes everything I have not to take care of the pretentiousness beaming out of him with my fists. I wouldn’t hesitate if I trusted myself enough not to surrender to the insanity that usually arrives with his punishments.

Since I don’t, I keep my hands balled at my sides.

Andrik sounds as disappointed by my lack of retaliation as I feel. “Did you stop because you’re worried about the repercussions, милая ?” His breathy, whispered words floating over my ear send goose bumps racing to the surface of my skin. “Or because you know I will respond exactly how you’re hoping.”

“I’m not hoping for anything.” After a breather to settle the spike his growl caused my blood pressure, I say, “I wouldn’t want to slap you if you’d stop playing games. You just asked me to leave. You paid me to keep quiet, and now you’re… you’re…” My words trail off, desperate not to portray the lust-fueled idiot I’ve been parading over the past twenty-four hours.

He’s married. There’s no chance of us being anything, so why does my heart believe differently? Why is it making out like he wants me to stay?

“I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be with you.”

His lips brush the shell of my ear when he asks, “Why?”

The calm, collective way he asks his question skyrockets my anger.

“Because you’re married,” I answer through clenched teeth, stating the obvious.

Mikhail talks louder when my angered whisper almost regains me the focus of our dressed-to-the-nines co-rider. Her neck cranks my way, meaning he has to get up close and personal with an elderly neighbor.

Once he has her utmost devotion resecured with a heap of attention I’m skeptical she’s ever received, Andrik says, “As I stated earlier, it is a contract. A business transaction. It’s not worth more than the piece of paper authenticating it.”

“Then why did you cancel the annulment?” I sound desperate, and I hate myself for it. But you can’t feel the tension brimming between us. It is electrifying. I’ve never experienced such a crazy range of emotions, and not all of them are based on anger.

Andrik’s fingers flattened on the lower half of my stomach drum as frantically as my heart thrashes my ribs when he mutters, “Because I need answers. I deserve them.” The sheer honesty in his voice drops it to barely a whisper. “And Dr. Hemway announced yesterday that you can’t help me get them.”

It takes several floors for the reason of my inclusion in his reply to smack into me. It makes me sick to my stomach.

Mikhail said Andrik’s marriage was so fresh he didn’t know about it when he colluded for us to meet at his penthouse. That can only mean one thing.

Andrik wasn’t at Dr. Hemway’s office yesterday to support his wife through fertility challenges. He was there for the exact reason my legs were forced into stirrups when I became of age—to purchase a breeding-approved wife.

Andrik’s grip on my arm loosens when our elevator’s arrival at the foyer of Mikhail’s building presents the perfect solution for me to be free of him.

“I can’t give you what you want, so you can either let me go now, or after I tell anyone who will listen that your marriage isn’t worth the piece of paper authenticating it.” I nudge my head to the group of paparazzi attempting to barge past the security personnel keeping them out of the foyer. “Starting with them.”

My threat sounds legitimate since my throat is burning with anger. I’ve never felt more ashamed than I did when Andrik announced he was no longer getting an annulment. That shame isn’t one tenth of the anger I’m currently experiencing.

Not all of it centers around Andrik’s betrayal.

My sights are set on someone I’ve known far longer than him.

“That will make a lot of people angry . ” Andrik walks around me until his suit-covered body shelters me from the numerous camera flashes bright enough to illuminate the walls of the elevator even with it being in the far back corner of Mikhail’s building. “Are you sure you’re ready for that level of animosity, Лисичка ?”

My immediate nod shocks him, much less the honesty in my tone when I reply, “I was born ready for it.”

It isn’t time for coyness. Despite his best efforts, the smallest grin tugs on Andrik’s lips before he steps aside so I can walk out of his life without so much as a backward glance.