Ravaged Crown

Chapter 4 Episode 4

“I… I’m so sorry, Mr. Solovev,” she stammers, grasping for the appropriate tone of voice. “We didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You didn’t.” I turn my eyes on the asshole. “He did.”

Willow’s husband blinks in stupefied confusion. He’s not used to being talked down to. It’s clear from the greasy pomade of his raked-back hair to the unbuttoned top of his expensive shirt: he thinks he runs s**t.

And hell, maybe in his world, he does. Maybe he has secretaries fawning all over him and rivals fuming every time he wins a business deal from right out under their noses.

But what he doesn’t know is that he’s not in his world anymore.

And here, he’s nothing more than a cockroach under my heel.

“Who the f**k are you?” he balks.

“Casey!” Willow exclaims. Her cheeks are red with shame. “I’m sorry, Mr. Solovev. We’ll take this conversation somewhere else.”

My c**k hardens every time she says my name. I could get used to that. I will get used to that.

“I don’t think so,” I tell her. “I think your conversation is over.”

The fucker narrows his eyes at me and puffs himself up to his full height. He’s reasonably tall, at least six feet. But he’s still craning his neck upwards to meet my gaze.

“Over?” he repeats, trying to sound intimidating. “She is my goddamn wife, and you are—I don’t even know who the hell you are. I’ll decide when our conversation is over.”

I take a step forward. Casey retreats immediately, instinctively. His body knows what his brain is too slow to grasp just yet—this is not a fight he can win.

“I don’t give a f**k who she is to you, mudak,” I breathe. “I expect my waitress back in that room in two minutes.”

“Not gonna f*****g happen, man.”

I move so fast that there’s nothing he can do to stop me. I grab the front of his shirt and throw him against the wall.

“Let me go!” he cries. “Are you f*****g crazy? My lawyers will—”

“She’s not going anywhere with you tonight.”

“So you keep saying,” I drawl in a bored voice. “Ask me if I give a f**k. Now, I think it’s time for you to leave.”

He’s still choking and spasming in my grasp. “I’m not leaving without Willow.”

I jerk him hard and the back of his head clacks against the cold wall. He cries out in pain.

“I’m going to give you one more warning,” I snarl in his face. “After that, I’m done being nice.”

I can feel Willow’s eyes on me, watching my every move, drinking me in. She doesn’t seem bothered. Like the violence of men is nothing new to her.

“Who the hell are you?” the fucker rasps.

Ah, there we go. He’s finally starting to glom onto the fact that maybe he shouldn’t be messing around with a guy like me.

My answer is simple: “The kind of man who can get away with anything.”

I release him a second later and step back. Casey’s expression is conflicted. He’s clearly trying to decide if this is a battle worth fighting.

If he’s smart, he’ll run for the f*****g hills. Something tells me he’s not that smart, though.

His eyes flit to Willow. But when his shoulders hunch, I know I’ve won.

“You should go now,” I say.

Just then, the staff door opens again and the sour-faced maître d’ walks back out. He takes one look at me and stands up a little straighter.

“Mr. Solovev, I do hope this little scuffle didn’t disturb you and your friends. Rest assured I’m taking care of it. The young woman will be removed and—”

“I expect her to be my waitress for the rest of the night,” I interrupt. “Just her. Is that understood?”

He pales and swallows past the knot in his throat. “Oh, of course, sir. Of course.”

I turn to Casey, who for some godforsaken reason is still standing in the mouth of the hallway. “Shouldn’t you be on your way?”

I don’t wait around to see him leave. I open the door for Willow. After some hesitation, she slips into the VIP room with a single, tentative backward glance. I take an inordinate amount of pleasure in slamming the door closed behind us.

I head back over to the sofa and take a sip of my vodka.

“Now,” I say coolly, “where were we?”

Her cheeks flare with uncertainty. Before, I was just a rich customer. Now, I’ve transformed in her eyes. I’ve become something riskier, more dangerous.

She still isn’t anywhere close to understanding the true scope of things.

She takes a few steps forward, but she makes no move to sit down. “Who are you?” she whispers in a timid voice that sends lightning bolts straight to my c**k.

“Leo Solovev,” she murmurs. “Should I recognize that name?”

“I don’t see why you would.”

“You’re not some, like, prince from a foreign country or something, are you?”

I snort. “I’m the farthest thing on earth from a prince. Flattered you’d think so, though.”

She blushes a little. She looks up at the ceiling, at the walls, at the floor between her feet. Like she’s wondering how on earth she ended up here with me.

Her head jerks towards me.

She hesitates for one moment longer. Then, setting her jaw like she’s preparing to jump out of an airplane, she bypasses the two single armchairs and sits on the plush white sofa next to me. As before, she keeps an unnecessary amount of distance between us.

“I… I’m really sorry about that,” she mumbles, gaze rooted down at her black ballet flats. “That was embarrassing.”

She looks up at me, cheeks aflame, but says nothing.

“I feel like I said too much earlier. I basically puked my sob story right into your lap. It’s… humiliating.”

“Having met your husband now, I’d say it’s understandable.” I take a sip of my vodka. “Charming guy.”

She sighs and closes her eyes. “You two really hit it off,” she drawls.

I laugh and cross my ankle over my knee. “Was I not on my best behavior?”

“Depends on your idea of manners, I guess.”

Her eyes blink open, and I’m struck by their vibrant shade of blue. In all my many months of planning, I certainly hadn’t expected her to be this striking.

Her raven black hair looks unnatural at first, but when you look closer, you realize how dark her roots really are. Midnight in a cave. Onyx dipped in oil. It’s mesmerizing.

There’s nothing fake about this woman.

“I want something of my own,” she says in the hushed tone of a confession. “I don’t want to have to rely on him my whole life.”

She shakes her head. Frustration presses down on her shoulders.

“I walked in on him sleeping with his coworker a month ago,” she continues. “That same night, I cooked him dinner while he sat there and told me all the ways I was lucky to have him.”

“Like I said, charming guy.”

A bubble of laughter escapes her lips, but it curdles almost immediately. “All I wanted to do that night was leave. But I knew I couldn’t. I have no friends. No money. I lost everything when I agreed to marry Casey. And I was so naïve and idealistic at the time that I actually thought I was the one winning the lottery.”

A lash of low, rumbling anger stirs in my chest. But I suppress it—for now.

“I had to sleep in that bed the same night I caught him cheating,” she continues. “It was the ultimate humiliation. You’d think by now I’d have gotten used to it.”

“How did that son of a b***h manage to convince you that you’re not good enough for him?”

She scoffs. “What makes you think I am?”

I reach out and stroke her face with one gentle thumb. She holds her breath, doesn’t move. Like one wrong twitch will send us both plummeting over the edge.

“The best revenge is living well,” I tell her.

“Unfortunately, I live with him.”

I lean in. “But you don’t have to.”

With desire coursing through my body, I press my lips to hers. She freezes for a second, her body tensing. Then she leans into the kiss.

Nothing takes me by surprise anymore. Nothing shocks me. I have been in control for years now. I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul.

I’ve planned this moment for a long f*****g time.

And yet, this kiss… it takes me by surprise.

My first coherent thought is, God, this feels good.

Who knew it was even possible that a kiss can feel so wholly intense? That it can make you feel powerful? That it can put a broken person back together again?

My second thought is, These aren’t my husband’s lips I’m kissing. There’s a moment of guilt, quickly followed by a wave of anger.

Casey cheated on me by f*****g some stranger in our bed… and here I am, feeling guilty for one tiny, meaningless, innocent little kiss.

Except the purist in me is forced to acknowledge that no kiss is innocent.

The tingling in my lips has spread to my entire body now. For the first time in years, I feel my p***y throb back to life. I’ve spent so long thinking I was broken inside. Shattered beyond repair.