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CHAPTER7
RUSLAN
Waking up, I roll to the side and stare at the wall. I didn’t get enough sleep. I know that I didn’t. It’s Saturday night and I’m going to be up all night again. I feel fucking lost and out of control. Marriage, keeping Isabel. It’s a fucking lot to take in. A big fucking decision to make, too.
I’m not sure that it’s exactly what I want.
But then again, thinking of her staying with that asshole, not being in my bed ever again, it makes me want to murder. For free.
There is a knock on my door, and I look at my phone. It’s eleven in the morning and nobody should even be here… except maybe her…
Sucking in a breath, I slip out of bed and make my way over to the door wearing nothing but my boxer briefs. Looking through the peephole, I smirk at the sight. It is her. Wrapping my hand around the handle of the door, I tug it open and take a step backward.
“I think you have some talking to do, Isa,” I say as she breezes past me.
She hums but doesn’t say anything else, stopping in my living room before she turns to me. Her eyes find mine and I fucking almost melt in front of her. I’m the goddamn biggest pussy for her. I can’t help it either, it’s just what I fucking am for her.
“You’re here,” I say.
She nods her head. “Rostam wanted to know if I was up for a change,” she says. “He knows about us.”
I hum. “So you know that I know Rostam?” I ask.
She nods her head a couple of times, her gaze searching mine as she does. “I do. He told me that some decisions needed to be made,” she says.
Dipping my chin, I clear my throat, taking a step toward her. “Tell me about your husband,” I demand.
Her eyes widen and she takes a couple of steps backward. Then she reaches out for the chair and grips the back slightly. There is a moment of silence while we stare at one another. Neither of us moves, we just stare. I don’t think I realized just how young she was until Rostam told me. Looking at her now, I see it swimming in her eyes.
Her young age is now part of her, and I can’t unsee that.
“I suppose there is no hiding my relationship status?” she asks.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were married?”
She snorts, her eyes finding mine and holding my gaze. “Married?” she asks. “Is that what I am?”
“You tell me,” I demand.
She nods her head, her fingers turning white as she grips the back of the couch. “I don’t call it a marriage. Azar has made it very clear what my purpose was at sixteen years old, since the moment he took me. And that purpose has not changed in five years.”
“What’s that?” I ask, knowing that she doesn’t want to tell me.
Watching her, I wait for her answer. She looks at me, then down to her feet, before she slowly lifts her gaze to meet mine again.
“My purpose is to be his fuck toy. A body for him to use as he sees fit. Nothing else. Nothing more. He refuses to have a baby with me because he doesn’t want to ruin his fun, or at least that’s what he claims. Which is fine with me because the last thing that I want is to be tied to him for life that way.”
Fuck.
What a goddamn asshole.
I think about at least a dozen ways I could kill the sonofabitch. Pressing my lips together, I look down at the floor, then lift my gaze to meet hers. She releases the back of the couch and takes one step toward me, then another before she stops and tilts her head backward.
“He doesn’t deserve you, Isa.”
Her lips curve up into a small smile. “I know he doesn’t. But are you trying to convince me that you do?” she asks.
I hum, taking a small step toward her. Reaching out, I wrap my hand around her waist and gently tug her against me. I grunt when her body slams against my own. Sliding my hand from her waist, I shift it up her spine until I slip it through the strands of her hair, tugging her head back even more.
