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He sighs. “I don’t. My dad is pissed. He blames me not graduating on me being out from under his thumb. So I have to go back to Chicago. I do not want to talk about it. Tell me all about you. I need the scoopy scoop. Did he get down on his knee?”
Shaking my head, I laugh. “Seriously? You’ve met the man. Do you really think Milos Levin would be the type to go down on one knee? No, he went to my father and told him he needed someone biddable and breedable and he’s willing to trade concessions to get what he wants. At least he checked to make sure I was good with it. But like I could say no, because if I did my father would have made my sister do it. The idea of seeing my sister with Milos was too horrific to contemplate. I didn’t have a choice.”
His snort is loud and rude. “That’s a load of bullshit if I’ve heard it. Milos and your sister together was horrific because you want him. You’d scrunch into a little ball of pain every time you went looking on the internet for him and found a picture of him with another woman. You and Milos were meant to be so much that it’s spooky. I mean hello, you knew he was shot, for fuck’s sake.”
I shiver thinking of that day. Something was wrong—I felt it in my bones. Fear drove me to check on my sister, then my mother, but they were fine. I couldn’t understand it. My chest was tight, no air would go in, any minute the world was going to fall apart. I was certain of it. Sergei heard me crying in my room. When I told him I didn’t know why I felt the way I did, I just did, his face went completely white. Then he whispered the words that made my world fall apart: Milos had been shot.
How could he know that? I searched desperately for news on the internet. As usual Milos and his family kept it from getting out.
Sergei said his father was supposed to meet with Milos for business. Aleksander told him Milos would be indisposed for some time. His father managed to get it out of one of Milo’s employees that Milos was shot—badly. They weren’t sure if he would make it.
All I wanted to do was go to Milos. I started getting dressed, intent on driving to Chicago immediately. But it was almost midnight. Sergei wouldn’t let me go, especially if I was so upset. What was I going to do once I got there?
What did he mean what was I going to do? Be with him, hold his hand, touch him to make sure he was okay.
So I was ready to marry Milos?
What the fuck kind of question was that? I just wanted to—
Sergei shook his head. It didn’t matter. If I went to Milos, I would never leave him. Milos would keep me.
Fear made my knees weak until I was curled into a ball on my bed. I wanted Milos so badly I dreamed of him every night. But marriage…I wasn’t ready for that. He was too big, too controlling, too everything. I would disappear into him until there was nothing left of me. So I stayed in bed until Sergei told me the next day he’d gotten information that Milos would be okay.
“Dreamy girl, hello, you still there?” Sergei singsongs to me.
“Yeah, sorry. I was thinking.” I sigh. “Whatever, it’s happening. Give me your address so I can send you an invitation. When are you going to be in town? I can’t wait to have lunch with you.”
“It will be another week at least. Then with my father going all King-Kong on my ass, girl, I have no idea when I’m going to be free. But as soon as I know I’ll call you. We’ll do a brunch with bottomless mimosas,” he promises. “Okay, I have got to go, my brother is here to break stuff down. He’s getting pissy. Bye.”
Before I can say another word he’s gone.
I lay in bed going over the conversations I had with Sergei, then the ones I had with Lydia, then way too long on the internet researching the daddy dom thing Lydia was talking about. I regretted it. Because I think in the end Milos isn’t going to pull out a collar for me—he already put a ring tighter than any collar around my finger. And the whole thing stressed me out.
My mind is twisting over what Milos had told me before—how he didn’t allow touching, no kissing, he used a woman then they were to leave. For Milos it was all about control, definitely a dominant personality. What sends my tummy twisting in knots is that I did like it.
I liked it, but I didn’t like that Milos took my submission for granted—it wasn’t something he was even trying to earn. I was to give in and that was it.
But he kissedyou. He went down onyou. He told you the moment he saw you he wanted to know what you tasted like.The whispered words come back to me all over again—Good girls get everything they want, bad girls get punished.
What I want is for him to love me. To need me as much as I needed him. To not be a pawn he placed to the side of the board when he was done with me.
Even though I have a feeling this is going to bite me in the ass, I get ready to go to the doctor. I’m going to ask her to put the implant in my arm. Once I’m not afraid Milos is going to stuff me in a corner of his world and leave me there, I’ll have it taken out.
Celia
The driveto the doctor’s office is quiet. Peter is giving me the silent treatment for slipping out on him the other day. I welcome the quiet.
There is almost no wait, I have barely made it into my chair before my name is called. I’m relieved the doctor is a short, brown-haired plus-size woman like me and hope it means I won’t get the you-are-too-fat speech. Thankfully, no speech is forthcoming.
“So you want your implant in your arm removed.” She is studying her notes.
“Actually, I need you togiveme an implant,” I admit.
“I’m sorry, what?” She frowns down at me.
I have no idea why I’m looking around to make sure no one can hear me when we’re in a room with a closed door. “I want you to put the implant in. My husband is pressuring me to get pregnant and I’m not ready yet.”
“Husband? I thought you weren’t married yet?”
