In Bed With The Devil

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

“Try to kiss me and I’ll bite you again.”

His voice, with a slight wisp, “I guess I’m a lucky husband …I like it when you bite me.”

“You’re disgusting Maldov.”

“You’re delectable Mrs Maldov,” He whispered leaning closer again, her eyes closed tightly shut and he paused into defeat , “You’re one hard nut to c***k Olivia.”

“Let go of me.” Her voice was adamant and as she wanted, his hands dropped from the nape of her neck as he backed away a few steps.

He raked his hands through his hair as he opened one of the drawer chests, a line of Backwood and a lighter appeared and she dreaded it even more a he lit it up—Great. Her husband was a raging murderer, leader of a mafia organization, and now he smokes too.

“You know, most women would jump at the opportunity to be in my bed.” He muttered, his brows furrowed at the huff of smoke.

“I’m not most women.”

“You’re not,” He acknowledged, dropping the cigar on the ashtray as he veered closer, he placed a finger on her cheek and brushed lightly, “Which is why I married you in the first place.”

“You mean forced me to marry you.” She had to correct him.

He shrugged again, “It’s the same thing,” then he moved towards the bed, “Come to bed Olivia. It’s late and you must be tired.”

She was tired. As a matter of fact, she was only few minutes away from her anemic self collapsing on the plush rug if she didn’t get any shut eye soon. Still she remained adamant on her stance, “I want my own room.”

“You’re not getting it.”

“Then don’t expect me to—“ She paused as he walked over impatiently, sweeping her off her feet in a bridal style, “—Hey put me down!!”

Ignoring her soft screeching, Alex gently placed her on the bed, carefully spacing the lengths between their bodies and controlling every urge that coursed through his vein. After all he was a man, any man would want to ravage Olivia’s beautiful body but she didn’t want that—he was a lot of things, but he would never force a woman to make love with him.

She opened her mouth to protest but then he gently placed the duvet over her, their mouths were so close and she feared they would make contact. The look in his eyes revealed nothing short of want, and lust, and danger—it terrified her greatly.

“Go to sleep Olivia.”

As much as Olivia wanted to fight for another room, scream to be let go and demand to be taken back to her father’s house, the great power of fatigue and exhaustion already overcame her without the use of Cillian’s Chamomile tea.

She wanted to stay awake, for all she knew Alex could take her in her sleep. However it was all a fluke, as she slowly drifted into unconsciousness, still fighting to stay awake but all she saw was the blurry vision of Alex Maldov sitting at the other side of the bed and taking his shirt off, right then her eyes finally shut close.

***********

The smell of fresh pancakes and bacon wafted through the air and into Olivia’s nose, thereby waking her up from her deep slumber. Slowly she opened her eyes, and the nightmare she thought she was in was actually a reality, her reality.

Her stomach grumbled with hunger. She sat upright, wrapping her arms around her stomach as she couldn’t find the courage to walk out of bed, and follow the wonderful smell of vanilla and pork meat. Ten minutes later and the aching went to a whole new level, she finally gathered enough strength to come out of bed.

The master bedroom was beautiful as the morning rays coursed through the terrace doors. She wrapped her robe tightly, still embarrassed about her risqué outfit but if luck was on her side no one would be at the kitchen….if she could find it that is.

She shoved her legs into a pair of fuzzy slippers at the edge of the bed, not caring how it got there and made her way into the hallway. The walls were beige, with an array of portraits of whom she was wondering was of random men. They looked sophisticated and policed, dressed in pristine suits with their eyes looking as soulless as Maldov’s.

She studied them intently, her mission straying for a moment until she got to a certain portrait of a man. He looked exactly like Alex, except an older version—Was this his father? Her supposed father in law?? Was this strange man also involved in the mafia business? These questions traveled through her mind as she went down the stairs.

The mansion was even more beautiful in natural morning lighting than she expected. She gasped loudly as she admired the living room. There was an aura of of refinement and luxury, with crystals from the chandelier refracting light into an array of colors. The polished marble floors stretched out like a beautiful canvas of art, she couldn’t help but applaud Sheila’s cleaning as her work clearly showed.

The chairs were simple, although she noticed the pleating of gold woven into it’s decor. Still this wasn’t her mission, as much as the mansion was beautiful….it was still owned by a monster. Nothing was going to change that.

She walked past the living room and finally found the dining area. It featured a majestic oak table and chairs with wonderful leather on it, she was sure it was also a meeting ground for the mafia to broker their deals—not that she knew of any dealings.

There it finally was—-breakfast. Her mouth watered seeing the tower of pancakes and syrup on the dining table, a tray of freshly crisp bacon just as she liked it and a plate of perfectly scram in bled eggs with Parmesan cheese. She almost cried at the perfection.

“Good morning Madam Maldov,” Cillian appeared from a door behind her with a tray in his hand, “Pardon my tardiness. I was going to bring you breakfast in bed as per the boss’s request.”

“It’s fine,” she said softly as she took a seat, “I’d rather eat here anyways.”

“Would you like something else Madam??” He asked.

Olivia was starting to find his doting annoying. All she wanted was a bit of peace, and the wonderful pancakes in her stomach as she was starving. She shook her head, “I’m alright. Thank you.”

She waited to watch him leave, he remained in his position and she frowned, “You can leave.”

He nodded and walked away. Olivia sighed as she grabbed a fork and took a jab at the pancakes waiting patiently to be devoured. As she predicted, they tasted divine and she forgot about her problems momentarily—it was a wonder what food could do to her.

Just then she placed her hands under the table as she tried to pull herself towards the jug of orange juice, it was damp. She felt cold at the sudden sensation, her hands trembled and her eyes widened as she slowly drawled it out. It was blood.