Wild Billionaire Romance - Chapter 41: Chapter 41
You are reading Wild Billionaire Romance, Chapter 41: Chapter 41. Read more chapters of Wild Billionaire Romance.
DESTINY
The man was insane. Not just insanely gorgeous, but actually, irrevocably insane.
Married? We were married. I was married. To him. Marat Volkov. A quick internet search after he left the bedroom allowing me some space told me exactly who my new husband was.
Younger brother of business tycoon Adrik Volkov. Co-owner of Volkov Industries. Billionaire. Bachelor. Playboy. Heartbreaker.
How the hell did I end up married to this man?
I couldn’t even comprehend what was going on. Oh, he’d explained and showed me the marriage license. Apparently, the NDA I thought I was signing was really a marriage certificate.
When he’d been teasing my slick pussy with his fingers, asking me if I wanted him to fuck me, I’d answered with an I do.
Of fucking course I did. Who the fuck wouldn’t?
But while that was happening his buddies, Josef and some other dude, were in the doorway, facing away from us, of course, but still witnessing our nuptials.
Gulp.
Marat explained it after he brought me some coffee with the perfect amount of cream. I never had a man make me a cup of coffee and deliver it. And definitely never one who was as handsome and dark-eyed as Lucifer himself.
I was struck dumb by the picture he made. I mean, I must have been, because while he explained what happened, I didn’t offer one single protest.
Not even the part where he glossed over the naughty things he’d done and asked of me while I was half asleep. I’d been caught between dream and fantasy, unsure if his hands touching me, his seducing me with his body and words were even real.
But they were. Marat had been touching me. He had, in fact, been whispering deliciously decadent things in my ear, asking questions that required just the right answer.
He also happened to be marrying me at the same time. Without my knowledge.
Can you say red fucking flag?
When he’d asked if I wanted to be his, I’d replied with I do.
I just didn’t know I was saying I do I do.
My heart hammered inside my chest as I processed everything he said.
“So, the witnesses?”
“There were witnesses present. Josef, and another bodyguard,” he told me.
“If they were there, did they see me like that? With you, um, touching me?”
Humiliation at the idea of someone other than him seeing me in the throes of passion threatened to fill me, but Marat took my face in his hands, making sure I was looking right at him before he answered.
“No. Never. No one sees you but me.”
It shouldn’t have turned me on. But it did.
There was something about his possessive turn of phrase that made my legs shake and my pussy ache to be filled.
Oh my god, I’m married!
It was surreal. Fantasy. I mean, the sex we’d shared was good, there was no doubt about it. But was it good enough to make him lose his mind?
I exhaled slowly, looking back at the door he’d just walked through, my body aching with unfulfilled need. I pressed my fingertips to my lips, remembering the soft, tender touches he gave me while applying a first-aid ointment to my breast.
Fuck. Me.
There was nothing else on the planet Marat could have done that would have affected me as deeply as that tiny act of caring. It completely wrecked me.
My heart was beating like a runaway train. When was the last time someone took care of me? I couldn’t even remember. And I knew it was no big deal in the greater scheme of things. But it was to me.
I bit my lip and turned to look at the ridiculous number of bags in the chaise. I didn’t know how he did it, but he’d managed to get everything from lingerie to shoes and all in the right size.
I grinned at the silky blue dress with the crossover neckline and flared skirt. The material felt heavenly against my fingers. Deciding on that one was easy. I found a bra and panty set that wouldn’t show beneath it and began to dress. Sliding my feet into a pair of moderately high, strappy heels, I grinned at my reflection.
I hadn’t bothered drying my hair, so a loose French braid was the best I could manage. He’d even ordered a beautiful assortment of makeup in several shades.
The quality was exquisite, and I tried not to think of the expense as I dusted my face lightly with powder adding mascara, some highlighter, a touch of bronzer, and a smear of lip gloss.
The sound of Marat clearing his throat caught my attention, and I turned to him, caught unawares in his predatory gaze. He was wearing a linen jacket over a dark shirt and slacks.
He looked fresh, debonair. The man was sex on legs. His powerful body moved effortlessly with all the grace of a big cat. Lithe, sensual, like a tiger. He seemed to exude sex appeal, and he was so goddamn handsome.
Okay, I shouldn’t have put my panties on just yet.
“You look stunning.”
“I do? Um, thank you,” I said. “I can pay you back—” I started to talk but didn’t bother finishing my sentence.
The cold, hard truth was I couldn’t pay him back. There was simply no way I could afford it. And I wasn’t a liar.
“Money is not an issue,” he said, dismissing me.
“I wish that was true for me, Marat. And I know I can’t afford any of this, but I have some money in my savings account,” I replied.
“It is true for you. You’re my wife.”
The way he kept saying that I wondered if it was for my benefit or if he needed the reminder.
“Money is no issue for either of us,” he continued before I could lose myself in thought.
“Marat,” I whispered, shaking my head.
I wasn’t materialistic, never having the funds to indulge, but I liked nice things. I admired beauty and quality. But it was the how, not the what that was important to me.
How you treated someone. How you showed you cared. Not what you were wearing. Or what you could get next.
“I don’t want you offering me any of yours again, okay?” he continued. “Now, I’ve already had some funds transferred to your checking account, and credit cards have been ordered. But they will take a few days to arrive. If there is anything you need while we are here, just ask me or have it charged to the room. The hotel manager knows who you are,” he said.
“Marat, this is crazy.”
He hummed but said nothing. His dark gaze roamed over me, and I stood up straighter, taking pride in the way he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off me.
I had to admit, the clothes felt nice. If they looked half as good as they felt, I was doing alright. At least I would not embarrass myself standing next to him.
“Come. We have an appointment at the jeweler’s.”
I started shaking my head, but he’d already moved, taking my hand before I could do more than squeak. Marat led the way to the elevator, and all I could do was follow.
“Oh, here,” he said, grabbing something off the table and handing it to me.
I stared at the beautiful bag, mouth gaping. I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like a Birkin. The shiny blue leather felt like butter beneath my fingertips and I almost moaned.
A moderate estimate for the cost of that bag was more than I made in a year. The fact he gifted it to me without so much as batting an eyelash rendered me speechless.
But there was more to it than just the bag. Looking inside, I saw he’d replaced my cheap wallet with a matching one. My phone had also been upgraded to a newer model, all my contacts transferred. And there was a key to the hotel suite in there as well.
“You went through my things?”
He nodded.
“W-when?”
“When you were asleep.”
“Marat—”
“We’ll talk, Dumplin’. I promise. But outside our room, there are too many ears listening. So let’s not say anything we don’t want splashed across the news and social media, alright?”
“Alright,” I whispered, brows furrowed.
There was a lot to unpack with all this. The invasion of my privacy was a minor thing in retrospect.
Marat’s heavy-handedness was perhaps the most shocking. Picking me up for the night was one thing, but tricking me into marriage? Why? Why would someone like him want someone like me?
I didn’t know if I was emotionally equipped to handle looking too closely at that. Maybe he was just a bored billionaire, and this was some way to blow off steam?
I shouldn’t let him use me.
I knew that already. But he made me feel so good, it was hard to remember why I should argue or fight against this. Against him.
No regrets, remember?
That voice from my past spoke inside my head and I closed my eyes, feeling Marat’s hand squeeze mine as we rode the elevator down. The last sixteen hours had been a roller coaster ride, and for all intents and purposes I was still on it.
I was still strapped into my seat with no other recourse than to simply hold on to the bar for all I was worth and enjoy the ride.
Maybe I’d let go when we got to the big dip.
Maybe I’d throw my hands up in the air, and scream as I fell.
Maybe.
Just maybe.
The man was insane. Not just insanely gorgeous, but actually, irrevocably insane.
Married? We were married. I was married. To him. Marat Volkov. A quick internet search after he left the bedroom allowing me some space told me exactly who my new husband was.
Younger brother of business tycoon Adrik Volkov. Co-owner of Volkov Industries. Billionaire. Bachelor. Playboy. Heartbreaker.
How the hell did I end up married to this man?
I couldn’t even comprehend what was going on. Oh, he’d explained and showed me the marriage license. Apparently, the NDA I thought I was signing was really a marriage certificate.
When he’d been teasing my slick pussy with his fingers, asking me if I wanted him to fuck me, I’d answered with an I do.
Of fucking course I did. Who the fuck wouldn’t?
But while that was happening his buddies, Josef and some other dude, were in the doorway, facing away from us, of course, but still witnessing our nuptials.
Gulp.
Marat explained it after he brought me some coffee with the perfect amount of cream. I never had a man make me a cup of coffee and deliver it. And definitely never one who was as handsome and dark-eyed as Lucifer himself.
I was struck dumb by the picture he made. I mean, I must have been, because while he explained what happened, I didn’t offer one single protest.
Not even the part where he glossed over the naughty things he’d done and asked of me while I was half asleep. I’d been caught between dream and fantasy, unsure if his hands touching me, his seducing me with his body and words were even real.
But they were. Marat had been touching me. He had, in fact, been whispering deliciously decadent things in my ear, asking questions that required just the right answer.
He also happened to be marrying me at the same time. Without my knowledge.
Can you say red fucking flag?
When he’d asked if I wanted to be his, I’d replied with I do.
I just didn’t know I was saying I do I do.
My heart hammered inside my chest as I processed everything he said.
“So, the witnesses?”
“There were witnesses present. Josef, and another bodyguard,” he told me.
“If they were there, did they see me like that? With you, um, touching me?”
Humiliation at the idea of someone other than him seeing me in the throes of passion threatened to fill me, but Marat took my face in his hands, making sure I was looking right at him before he answered.
“No. Never. No one sees you but me.”
It shouldn’t have turned me on. But it did.
There was something about his possessive turn of phrase that made my legs shake and my pussy ache to be filled.
Oh my god, I’m married!
It was surreal. Fantasy. I mean, the sex we’d shared was good, there was no doubt about it. But was it good enough to make him lose his mind?
I exhaled slowly, looking back at the door he’d just walked through, my body aching with unfulfilled need. I pressed my fingertips to my lips, remembering the soft, tender touches he gave me while applying a first-aid ointment to my breast.
Fuck. Me.
There was nothing else on the planet Marat could have done that would have affected me as deeply as that tiny act of caring. It completely wrecked me.
My heart was beating like a runaway train. When was the last time someone took care of me? I couldn’t even remember. And I knew it was no big deal in the greater scheme of things. But it was to me.
I bit my lip and turned to look at the ridiculous number of bags in the chaise. I didn’t know how he did it, but he’d managed to get everything from lingerie to shoes and all in the right size.
I grinned at the silky blue dress with the crossover neckline and flared skirt. The material felt heavenly against my fingers. Deciding on that one was easy. I found a bra and panty set that wouldn’t show beneath it and began to dress. Sliding my feet into a pair of moderately high, strappy heels, I grinned at my reflection.
I hadn’t bothered drying my hair, so a loose French braid was the best I could manage. He’d even ordered a beautiful assortment of makeup in several shades.
The quality was exquisite, and I tried not to think of the expense as I dusted my face lightly with powder adding mascara, some highlighter, a touch of bronzer, and a smear of lip gloss.
The sound of Marat clearing his throat caught my attention, and I turned to him, caught unawares in his predatory gaze. He was wearing a linen jacket over a dark shirt and slacks.
He looked fresh, debonair. The man was sex on legs. His powerful body moved effortlessly with all the grace of a big cat. Lithe, sensual, like a tiger. He seemed to exude sex appeal, and he was so goddamn handsome.
Okay, I shouldn’t have put my panties on just yet.
“You look stunning.”
“I do? Um, thank you,” I said. “I can pay you back—” I started to talk but didn’t bother finishing my sentence.
The cold, hard truth was I couldn’t pay him back. There was simply no way I could afford it. And I wasn’t a liar.
“Money is not an issue,” he said, dismissing me.
“I wish that was true for me, Marat. And I know I can’t afford any of this, but I have some money in my savings account,” I replied.
“It is true for you. You’re my wife.”
The way he kept saying that I wondered if it was for my benefit or if he needed the reminder.
“Money is no issue for either of us,” he continued before I could lose myself in thought.
“Marat,” I whispered, shaking my head.
I wasn’t materialistic, never having the funds to indulge, but I liked nice things. I admired beauty and quality. But it was the how, not the what that was important to me.
How you treated someone. How you showed you cared. Not what you were wearing. Or what you could get next.
“I don’t want you offering me any of yours again, okay?” he continued. “Now, I’ve already had some funds transferred to your checking account, and credit cards have been ordered. But they will take a few days to arrive. If there is anything you need while we are here, just ask me or have it charged to the room. The hotel manager knows who you are,” he said.
“Marat, this is crazy.”
He hummed but said nothing. His dark gaze roamed over me, and I stood up straighter, taking pride in the way he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off me.
I had to admit, the clothes felt nice. If they looked half as good as they felt, I was doing alright. At least I would not embarrass myself standing next to him.
“Come. We have an appointment at the jeweler’s.”
I started shaking my head, but he’d already moved, taking my hand before I could do more than squeak. Marat led the way to the elevator, and all I could do was follow.
“Oh, here,” he said, grabbing something off the table and handing it to me.
I stared at the beautiful bag, mouth gaping. I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like a Birkin. The shiny blue leather felt like butter beneath my fingertips and I almost moaned.
A moderate estimate for the cost of that bag was more than I made in a year. The fact he gifted it to me without so much as batting an eyelash rendered me speechless.
But there was more to it than just the bag. Looking inside, I saw he’d replaced my cheap wallet with a matching one. My phone had also been upgraded to a newer model, all my contacts transferred. And there was a key to the hotel suite in there as well.
“You went through my things?”
He nodded.
“W-when?”
“When you were asleep.”
“Marat—”
“We’ll talk, Dumplin’. I promise. But outside our room, there are too many ears listening. So let’s not say anything we don’t want splashed across the news and social media, alright?”
“Alright,” I whispered, brows furrowed.
There was a lot to unpack with all this. The invasion of my privacy was a minor thing in retrospect.
Marat’s heavy-handedness was perhaps the most shocking. Picking me up for the night was one thing, but tricking me into marriage? Why? Why would someone like him want someone like me?
I didn’t know if I was emotionally equipped to handle looking too closely at that. Maybe he was just a bored billionaire, and this was some way to blow off steam?
I shouldn’t let him use me.
I knew that already. But he made me feel so good, it was hard to remember why I should argue or fight against this. Against him.
No regrets, remember?
That voice from my past spoke inside my head and I closed my eyes, feeling Marat’s hand squeeze mine as we rode the elevator down. The last sixteen hours had been a roller coaster ride, and for all intents and purposes I was still on it.
I was still strapped into my seat with no other recourse than to simply hold on to the bar for all I was worth and enjoy the ride.
Maybe I’d let go when we got to the big dip.
Maybe I’d throw my hands up in the air, and scream as I fell.
Maybe.
Just maybe.
End of Wild Billionaire Romance Chapter 41. Continue reading Chapter 42 or return to Wild Billionaire Romance book page.