Seduction: A Dark Bratva Fake Marriage Romance (Wicked Vows)
Seduction: Chapter 8

“Bed,” Markov snaps, as if the fact that I’m not currently deep in the throes of REM sleep is a personal affront to him.

“Bed,” I agree, shaking my head at him. “Will you relax already? Also, if I’m wearing clothes to bed, so are you.”

“I am wearing clothes, woman.”

I’m holding my own. “If you don’t put a shirt on, I’m stripping.”

My cheeks color. No way, no how am I going to strip, but if he calls me on my bluff⁠—

“Fair enough,” he grumbles, walks back over to crumpled clothing, and tugs his tee back on. Argh. I wanted him to get a clean one since he’ll likely—yup. I knew it. As soon as he gets near me, his scent from earlier clings to him.

I scurry under the covers when he gives me a narrow-eyed look. I’m holding my breath, waiting for the bed to sink under his weight when he joins me.

“I did what you said. Now go to sleep. Early morning comes fast.”

I open my mouth to tell him I’m going to sleep because I’m tired and not because he’s bossing me around, then think better of it because he’s lying right next to me. He’s already given me a few warnings about behaving myself. I’m not sure if it’s my imagination running wild because I’ve read too many of a certain kind of novel, but it’s probably not smart to talk back in any event.

I’m also really tired and don’t need to be told twice.

I close my eyes, letting my mind wander. Of course it settles on all the little things that made my heart beat faster tonight.

The feel of his eyes focused on mine. The way his finger tipped under my chin. The command in his voice and his promise to protect me. The sight of his chiseled inked back—better than the cover of my romance novels. The sound of his voice, all deep and husky with that accent. The warmth of his body behind me. . .

I close my eyes and fall into a deep sleep.

I wake up a few hours later, disoriented, and glance at a tiny alarm clock on the desk. Still a bit longer until I need to wake up. This jet lag is no joke. I toss and turn and stare at the ceiling, then reach for my phone and realize it’s plugged in by the desk. I consider getting up but don’t want to wake him when the heavy warmth of an arm snakes around my belly, over the bedclothes.

“Go to sleep, Vera,” Markov says in a sexy, sleepy voice.

“I’m wide awake.”

“Do what they do in the military. Close your eyes and will your mind to stop. Don’t allow any more thoughts, then rest.”

“I can’t stop my mind,” I protest. What a silly thought.

The sound of his soft, heavy breaths tells me he was able to do that and is already back to sleep.

Okay, then.

I close my eyes. I think no thoughts, but a certain large, muscular Russian’s face comes straight into my mind’s eye. What would it be like to kiss him? What would it be like to be touched by him? What would it be like if…

No. I can’t think like this. Nope.

I finally fall into a deep and dreamless sleep until the blare of my alarm clock rouses me. I roll over and stretch before I remember I’m not alone in this bed.

I have plenty of room, though. He isn’t here.

Did someone come back in the middle of the night? I push off the covers and walk across the room to shut off my alarm, looking around for Markov. Was there a threat, and he⁠—

I can hear the sound of running water in the bathroom. Okay, he’s obviously just in the bathroom, and I didn’t hear it before because of the alarm.

Does the man ever sleep?

I’m not going to let him outdo me when it comes to getting ready, not a second time in a row. I laid out my workout clothes the night before, so I quickly strip out of the clothes I slept in, my back to the bathroom, and quickly pull my shorts on when I hear the bathroom door open.

“Stop! Don’t come out; I’m getting dressed.” My telltale cheeks betray me as always, heating so badly this time I feel it all the way from my hairline to my neck. I can feel his presence just on the other side of this door, standing deadly still as I quickly tug my workout clothes on.

“Alright,” I breathe, turning away so he doesn’t see my cheeks. “I’m done.”

The bathroom door creaks open as I reach down to put my socks on.

“If you don’t want me to see you naked, it might be wise not to get dressed in the room we share,” he says sarcastically.

“Kinda hard to do when you’re hogging the damn bathroom.”

I stand up to face him and nearly lose my shit when I see he’s only wearing a towel. Good God. I spin quickly around so I don’t stare at his wall of chest and nearly trip over my own two feet.

He grabs my arm and holds me upright, his face impassive and his lips once more pressed into a thin, severe line. I wonder if I imagined any warmth or hint of humor the day before.

“What did I tell you about your mouth?”

Before he can unnerve me all over again, I pull my arm away from his and head to the bathroom, but he grabs my braid, all tangled and disheveled from sleeping. I stop short.

“I asked you a question, Vera.”

“Hey!”

I definitely imagined any warmth.

“Let go of my hair.” I hate that the dominant move pulls the rug straight out from under me. I wish I could get a grip on my raging, albeit neglected, libido, but my heart beats faster and my chest is all tight and warm.

Instead of letting go, he holds it a bit tighter and gives another tug. “What did I say?”

I sigh. He’s still gripping my hair, and if we’re ever going on a run. . .

“You told me to behave,” I say in a singsong voice. “I’m sorry. Now let me go so I can pee in peace.”

He does, in fact, let me go, but only to give me a parting slap to the ass.

“Hey!”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t like it,” he says, his back turned to me he pulls out clothes to dress into.

God. The arrogance of the smug, self-satisfied prick.

Why wasn’t I more careful with letting him see my reading choices? Now he has it in his head that I want to be dominated.

I go to slam the door to the bathroom for effect but think better of it in case he considers that not behaving. . . or something. And maybe. . . punishes me or something.

Do I want to be dominated?

I stare at myself in the mirror. My hair’s a mess, but the half-done braid reminds me of the feel of his fingers in my hair. My cheeks are still pink, and the color creeps all the way down to the neckline of my workout tank. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my ears, and the pressure between my legs after that smack to the ass is undeniable.

Yes. Yes, I definitely want this. Him.

Fuck.

I slap toothpaste on my brush and run the water while I sift through my protests, thoughts, and fears in my mind. What if my father replaces out?

My father doesn’t know the first thing about me. He’s never been interested in me before, so why would he start now?

Anyway, who said we had to become a thing? It’s the modern age. We can. . . flirt.

Maybe even do a … what do they call that… friends-with-benefits thing, no strings attached.

I rinse off my toothbrush, the cool water not enough to quell the heat rising inside me. We’re supposed to be playing a married couple, I remind myself. There should be some chemistry… right?

“Are you coming out or what? How long does it take to pee?” His gruff, impatient voice invades the silence.

Argh. I’m glad he isn’t my real-life husband.

“As long as it takes!” I retort, my tone sharper than I intend. Lame.

“We have to get moving.”

“Oh, Fuck off, Markov!” I snap before I can censor myself.

Shit.

I maybe could’ve handled that better. He isn’t exactly the type that will take kindly to me smarting off to him.

When I tentatively open the door, I replace him waiting in the doorway, his arms crossed on his chest. His eyes locked on mine, the challenge is clear.

“I heard that, wife.” His voice is a low, threatening purr that sends a shiver down my spine.

My heartbeat thunders.

“We don’t have time now for me to deal with you, but I’ll remember. Do you need coffee or food before we go?” he asks, glancing pointedly at his watch. “Our time is running out.”

“After. Let’s go.”

The early morning air is crisp, a refreshing contrast to the heat that flares between us as we stop outside. The sunlight is brighter than I expected, casting a glow to his tanned skin.

“Wow,” I say as we warm up with a casual jog, trying to shake off the tension. “It’s so bright already.”

“In the summer, the sun rises in Moscow around four a.m.,” Markov says, his voice surprisingly gentle. He gestures for me to follow him to the left when we hit a fork in the road. “Sunrise was almost an hour ago.”

“Wow,” I breathe. “Do you know where we’re going?”

“There are city parks suitable for a run, but I favor the parks around the Kremlin. Quieter this time of day.”

Ah. So he insisted on early morning so that we could avoid crowds. I can get behind that.

We start to pick up our pace. The soft, diffused light and nearly vacant streets make it calm and peaceful here. I like it.

That said, nature is very much awake. Birds sing, and little critters trot between green bushes, dipping in and out. There’s hardly any traffic.

“It’s beautiful,” I tell him. “Gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” he says, as if I just paid him a personal compliment. “It’s different later in the day, but this time of year is the warmest. We’ll have to visit some of the parks, too. We will not run the same route every day, Vera.”

Was he picking on me? How does he know I stick to one route all the time? Does he?

“Why?’

“It makes you harder to predict if someone’s after you,” he says with a shake of his head. “Your guards at home should’ve told you these things.”

“I don’t have guards at home; I have one guard, and he’s old, nearly deaf, and half-asses everything. My father doesn’t care. All he cares about is the money in his wallet, how he looks to the public, and his reputation.”

Markov doesn’t reply but a muscle ticks in his jaw as we slow down near an intersection that has a few shops already open.

“Now are you hungry?” I nod, my stomach churning at this point.

“I would kill for a cup of coffee.”

Markov smirks. “I’d kill for a lot less.”

I snort, but a part of me can’t decide if he’s joking or not.

He steers us to a vacant shop with little seats on a paved patio out front and a small menu. My mouth waters at the smell of newly-baked pastries and the rich, warm scent of fresh-brewed coffee.

“I don’t have any money with me,” I tell him.

He gives me a withering look. “Have you not figured out by now that I’m a very old-fashioned husband, Vera? You won’t pay for anything with me. Let’s get coffee and food so we can head back and get ready before your first session.”

We’re both covered in sweat, and my hair’s a mess, but no one seems to mind. I predictably choose an Americano to his classic black espresso, and we buy a few traditional sweet buns.

As we leave, Markov looks both ways, up and down, practically in every darkened doorway and behind every bush. I’m not sure why he’d think anyone would follow us here, but if they did, they’re invisible.

“Why are you constantly checking to see if anyone’s following us?”

“Vera,” he grunts.

“I know. I know it’s your job, but no one’s here. No one’s followed us.”

“Anyone good at what they do can practically blend into a crowd,” he says tightly. “Believe me, I’m very good at it myself.”

Finally satisfied we aren’t going to be bombed, shot at, or abducted in the near future, we walk back to campus, eating our sweet buns and drinking our coffees. “Tell me about the work you’ll do today,” he says, sipping his coffee. I’ll have just enough time for a quick shower before we meet.

“I’ll have to check back to the itinerary to see what’s next.”

“Can you tell me the gist of it?”

“Of course. How much did you understand of what we discussed last night?”

His brows furrow. “Let’s just say I gathered that you were all scientists,” he begins. God, he looks so adorable when he gives me that look. It’s the only time I’d use the word adorable or cute about him.

I fill him in in layman’s terms as best I can. “So today could be any of those things. A simulation where we’re in the middle of a war-torn area with a soldier who has just been brought in with life-threatening injuries. A high-stakes threat where our mock environment’s been hit with a biological weapon. Or disaster response to a natural disaster and we have to allocate resources and set up triage areas. Advanced trauma support training. Our training involves everything from staying calm under intense pressure and trauma to learning how to do things like parachute, building shelter to survive, and mental resiliency.”

“Ahhh,” he says, nodding. “So that’s why you brush your teeth with your left hand.”

I’m not sure why it pleases me so much that he actually connected that or freaks me out that he misses nothing. “Right. Doing small things with a non-dominant hand will help you grow resilience. It’s similar to the whole ice bath thing.”

“Got it.” He shrugs. “Well, I can definitely help you with disaster response and trauma support if you need me to feign a few scenarios. Happy to fuck up that asshole American so you can bring him back to life.”

“I’m not sure that will be necessary, but thank you for being so helpful,” I say as we make it back to campus.

“Stay back when I check things out.”

This time, I don’t push back or argue. It would be stupid not to go along with him, and a moment later, he gives me the green light.

We get ready quickly, but we’re the last ones to arrive. I’m surprised when he actually comes inside with me.

“Irina said I could.”

“Oh, really?” Why is she being so amenable? Then a thought crossed my mind. “Markov,” I whisper. “Did you threaten her?”

His gaze grows thunderous. “No. Do I need to?”

My heart thumps and I shake my head. “No, please don’t.” I glance at the time. I can’t discuss this any more.

Jake smirks at my damp hair and wrinkled top that didn’t travel so well. I kind of rushed in the end, but I figured it would be fine since we’d be covered in a lab coat.

I suddenly hate the way he looks at me, that smug expression on his face, but I quickly forget him when Sophia comes up beside me. “I’m so thankful there’s another woman here,” she whispers. “We’ve made many advances in women in STEM, but you know.”

I do know. We still are very much in the minority, at least in some places.

“I’m a little jealous you’re here with your husband,” she says with a smile. “How did you two meet?”

Shit. I forgot what we decided on. I stare at her and wildly try to come up with a way to change the subject. We said we wouldn’t say it was school, but that we met. . . online dating!

“Oh, we met through an online dating thing,” I finally say. “I avoided them for a long time, but you know. It gets lonely, and those algorithm matches can be spot on.”

I can feel Markov behind me, listening to everything I say.

“Oh, I love it,” Sophia says. “Takes the drama and guesswork out of the equation!” God, if she had any idea. Markov coughs into his hand. I kick him under the table.

Irina and Morozov walk in, so we both stop talking as they lay out our plans for the day.

“Now,” Morozov says, his eyes twinkling. He’s totally in his element and loving it. “After basic orientation and the overview of our goals here, we’ll outline the modules we’ll be studying. We’re bypassing our standard introduction since all of you seem to have such great rapport. We don’t want to waste time with any of the icebreakers we typically use to warm the team up and will get right to it.”

Fine with me. I hate that stuff. I’m ready to get busy.

“Great rapport,” Jake scoffs under his breath to me. “Some were accepted because Mommy and Daddy could pay, and the rest got in to satisfy some quota. Not very impressive.”

I press my lips together and don’t respond.

“And which might you be, Vera?” Jake asks, his tone casual but edged with provocation as he leans closer to the lab table, eyeing the vials of biological agents we’ve been given to inspect.

I give him a withering look and turn back to the task at hand.

Markov, who has been quietly observing from a short distance, narrows his eyes, sensing the tension. I shake my head at him. Suddenly, Jake, perhaps to demonstrate a misguided point or to taunt me further, begins to gesture animatedly with his hands, dangerously close to the vials.

“Be careful!” I can’t help but exclaim as his sleeve brushes against a particularly delicate setup.

But before he can finish, Markov intervenes. With a swift motion, he steadies the vials that Jake’s careless movements had nearly toppled. The room goes silent, all eyes suddenly on them.

“Thank you,” Irina says. “You must be more cautious. This isn’t a place for reckless behavior and those of you at this caliber ought to know that.”

With a scowl, Jake gets up from the table and walks away. Markov glances my way, his gaze sharp and protective. My heart beats faster not only from the near-miss but from Markov’s look. He’s here to ensure my safety in every sense of the word.

Wordlessly, he gets up as well and follows Jake.

Uh oh.

I open my mouth to protest but don’t want to cause a scene. My heart, however, hammers rapidly in my chest at the thought of what Markov might be doing.

The rest of the group is occupied with observations, noting things down on their lab sheets, but I’m hyper-focused on Jake and Markov. Markov leans in, washing his hands in the sink while Jake dries his. Jake’s ears are beet red, and he looks like a terrified child.

Oh, God.

They come back and Jake walks to the front of the room, says something in Irina’s ear, then takes his leave.

“Markov,” I hiss. “What did you say to him?”

Markov’s eyes darken when he shrugs, but he responds quietly. “Do not worry. I didn’t overstep.”

“Markov. . .” I give him a pleading look.

Leaning over, he whispers in my ear. “I told him under no uncertain terms what would happen to him if he disrespected my wife again. And then I casually suggested that he wasn’t feeling well and could maybe take a bit of a break from this morning’s rotation.”

My jaw drops even as warmth spreads through me.

He stood up for me.

No one’s ever done that before.

The next second, I realize he just threatened a coworker.

“Markov, this is a crucial lab, though. This is where they decide which of us gets chosen for the leadership roles for the rest of the program.”

Markov only shrugs. “I know.”

“Vera?” Irina says with a smile. “We’d like you to lead our fieldwork.”