I feel my face start to heat up and immediately I press the phone down, not having the courage to finish the video.
“What’s going on with your face?” Alexei asks pleasantly from behind me. “It’s turning red. Is it warm in here? I don’t think it’s warm in here.”
“Delete this video,” I snarl. “If you ever play this again I will kill you myself.”
He sits up slowly. “Woah. Woah. Woah.” He holds both hands up. “Are you threatening me?”
“Yes. I am. And I will carry it out even if I have to die trying.”
He stares at me for a long moment.
“That,” he says, “was the sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me in my entire life.” He pauses, his eyes darkening. “I have never had a woman threaten my life and live. You are the first. And definitely the last.” He tilts his head, inching closer. “But I want details, Vedma. How exactly would you do it?” He glances down at my chest. “Would you smother me with your beautiful tits? Just so you know I wouldn’t fight that very hard.” He inches closer. “Or would you suffocate me with your pussy? Come to think of it, that’s not a bad way to go. Dying with the tastiest thing I’ve ever had on my tongue. I’d go out a happy son of a bitch.” He reaches out and takes both my hands and presses them around his throat. Then he wraps his own hands around mine, squeezing, forcing the grip tighter as his pulse jumps hard against my palms. “Or would you choke me.” His hands tighten around mine on his throat. “I want to feel your hands take the last breath out of my lungs. I want to black out with your face above me and die thinking about how beautiful you are while you kill me.” His eyes started to dilate. “Smother me. Suffocate me. Choke me. I genuinely don’t have a preference as long as it is you doing it. I will die the happiest man in all of Russia. They can carve it on my grave: Here lies Alexei Romanov, the stupid bastard who finally found the only way he ever wanted to die—destroyed by his witch, suffocating happily in her pussy with her hand around his throat.”
“You’re scaring me,” I say, my heart beating fast I could hear it.
His hands loosen around mine, the wildness in his eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” he says. “You’re just so pretty it kills me inside.”
Neither of us says anything for a moment.
I throw the phone at his head but he catches it without looking.
I stomp across the room and slam the bathroom door behind me hard enough to rattle the mirror.
His voice comes through the glass almost immediately, taunting me. “Taking a bath in there is not going to wash away the shame, Vedma.”
I press my back against the glass door and stare at the ceiling, contemplating whether to just rush out there and give him the death he wants by choking him — but not make it pleasurable — or simply ignore him the way you ignore a fly buzzing in your ear.
He continues before I can decide.
“And for what it’s worth—”
I hold my breath.
“—you took my dick like a big girl. You should be proud of yourself.”
I grab the first thing my hand lands on — a full bottle of body wash — turn around and hurl it straight through the glass door at his head. He throws himself sideways off the bed just in time, the bottle sailing past his ear and hitting the floor behind him with a loud thud.
A brief silence settles over the room before I shout “PRICK” through the glass.
He reappears from the side of the bed slowly, fixing his disheveled hair and looking at the bottle on the floor before his eyes find me through the transparent glass door.
“Add big to that insult,” he calls back pleasantly. “That’s your husband’s prick you’re referring to. Show some respect.”
His laughter follows me all the way into the shower and I turn the water on as hot as it will go, washing until my skin turns pink, scrubbing away whatever is left of last night and the shame of knowing exactly what I saw on that video and how much of it I enjoyed.
Chapter 22
Zoya
TWO DAYS LATER
I finish tying the straps of my gold heels and walk to the full length mirror to do a little twirl.
Well.
This dress pushes every boundary I have. The gold fabric dips deep in the front and the side slit cuts high up my thigh, putting every single curve on display. I reach back and tug at the hem in a desperate bid for more coverage, but nothing happens. I try pulling the slit closed only for it to fall wide open again, and adjusting the neckline just makes it slip even lower.
I never wanted to attend this event. Alexei dragged me here against my will, so if I have to step into his world, his world has to deal with me showing up like this. I want him to sweat and regret every decision that made him bring me out tonight, and I want him to realize deep in his chest that forcing me into his life has consequences.