Owned by the Badman (Russian Bratva #1) (7 page)

“I
WILL SEE YOU
tonight. Catia, the stylist, and Sonia, the decorator, will call you this morning so that you can get started,” Maxim announces.

I smile up at my husband and nod. Maxim leans down and presses a soft kiss to my forehead before standing and walking away. He stops right at the door and turns to face me. He is dressed to perfection in a three-piece suit.

I didn’t realize men still wore vests with their suits, but Maxim does, and it looks flawless on him. He looks handsome, powerful, and with the stubble on his face, it adds that danger I know he must possess. His eyes are telling—when they darken and his face goes granite, I can only imagine what secrets he holds within himself.

“The house will be full of the staff this morning. Yulia is the cook and housekeeper. She is the only person you are to converse with, do you understand?” he asks.

It is such an odd thing to say, but I nod anyway. Without another word, he turns and leaves me alone with no promise of what time he will return.

I close my eyes and think back to yesterday afternoon and evening. After our passionate lovemaking in Maxim’s office, he took me on a tour of the grounds. His home and estate are beautiful, and if I am to be kept essentially as a prisoner, there could be no place more peaceful and sublime.

There is a private garden with trees all around, and a gorgeous swimming pool with a pool house. On the edge of the property, there is even a lake with a small teakwood rowboat. I couldn’t believe Maxim had all of this; it is simply breathtaking.

I can’t wait to spend an afternoon reading by the pool or picnicking by the lake. I will probably be doing all of these things alone, but at least I will be outside, enjoying the sunshine.

After our tour, I made Maxim dinner. A sandwich. It wasn’t much because I can’t cook, and I felt terribly guilty about it. We sat on the couch for the rest of the evening, relaxing as we watched a movie together. It was the most peaceful evening I have ever had in my entire life.

I can’t help but feel sad this morning at being left alone. With two full days of having Maxim to myself, it will be an adjustment to live a predominantly solitary life once again.

At least when I was living with my parents, I had Torrent to take me where I wanted to go—if I ever
wanted
to go anywhere. I cannot hope for something like that here unless Maxim’s approved decorator and stylist offer to take me into the city. I am under no illusion that I am free to do as I wish. Maxim made that fairly clear to me yesterday morning.

Maxim is my keeper.

“Get up, you lazy woman,” a harsh voice yells through the bedroom, interrupting my thoughts.

This must be Yulia. She is tall and curvy, in her mid-forties, and her blonde hair is pulled up into a tight French twist. She is wearing black pants and a fitted blouse, an outfit I cannot imagine a woman would wear to clean in, but maybe Maxim requires professionalism in every aspect of his life.
He did go into work wearing a three-piece suit
.

“I am sorry. I was just lying in bed. I am awake, though,” I say quietly, sliding out of bed and adjusting my nightie. Thankfully, it covers my body. I have a feeling that Yulia will have no problem berating me for anything and everything I do wrong.
Feels just like home.

“No need to be a good for nothing. Get up and do something with yourself. You may be mistress of this house, but I only answer to Mr. Maxim. I run this place, so you need to stay the hell out of my way, you stupid little girl,” she barks. The words she is using and the venom that is so apparent in her voice take me aback.

“I … I am sorry, Yulia. I’m Haleigh,” I murmur, afraid to say much else. I feel like my mother is standing in front of me and I hate that.

“I know who you are. Mr. Maxim has told me of your nuptials. Don’t get too comfortable in the master’s bedroom, honey,” she sneers and walks away.

Yulia’s cryptic words worry me, but I don’t have time to dwell on them. Minutes later, the phone rings and Catia informs me, rather briskly, that she will arrive in one hour’s time to take me shopping for
proper attire
.

I hurry through my shower and put on a cream-colored sundress for the day, sliding flat sandals on my feet. I can’t help but feel extremely nervous about meeting Catia, especially after my initial run-in with Yulia.

Walking downstairs and into the kitchen, I see Yulia placing some food onto a plate. Turning around with the plate in her hand, she thrusts it into my stomach, almost knocking the air out of me.

“Here.
Eat
. Maxim tells me you are too skinny,” she practically yells in my face.

I look down to the food on the plate, a bagel with cream cheese and sliced strawberries. I don’t particularly care for bagels or cream cheese, but I am too afraid of Yulia to tell her any differently. I sit down in the breakfast room and try my hardest to eat the bagel, but I can only manage a few measly bites. I decide to eat the strawberries instead and pray that Yulia isn’t upset I can’t eat the dense carbohydrates.

A few moments later, I hear high heels clicking on the travertine floor and look up to see a stunning dark-haired woman coming my way. She is tall and built like a
woman
, large breasts, small waist, and flared hips. Her dark hair is pulled up into a bun, high on top of her head, and her makeup is flawless.

She is wearing a beautiful pencil skirt, a teal silk blouse that shows off her ample cleavage, and heels so high, I definitely would fall flat on my ass wearing them. I smile at her, and she just scowls. Then, when I stand, her eyes roam over my body and she smirks.

“
You
are Maxim’s wife?” she says with her lips tipped in a smile. It makes me feel extremely self-conscious.

“Catia?” I ask softly. She nods once.

“Let us go. Honestly, you will never be what Maxim wants, but I can try to make you
decent
,” she says with a wave of her hand.

I step back from her angry, hostile voice and hurtful words. It isn’t as if she has physically hurt me, but I refuse to let it show that her words have wounded. I have spent my entire life surrounded by people who don’t like or want me around. I can do it again for another afternoon.

Catia drives into the city and takes me to
Barney’s
department store. I know I should be thrilled that Maxim wants to purchase an entire wardrobe for me, but I am anxious and nervous.

I don’t want to spend the day with Catia.

Disappointing Maxim, however, would be so much worse. I gather my inner strength and follow her into the store. My cell phone rings and without looking, I answer it.

“You are with Catia, no?” Maxim barks into my ear.

“Yes, Maxim, we have just arrived at
Barney’s
,” I explain. He hums in my ear.

“I will not be home until late this evening, do not wait up for me. Sonia will be at the house at nine o’clock tomorrow morning to go over décor with you.”

Without another word, he hangs up the phone
. No good-byes exchanged
. He is so different from the man I saw the day before, so cold. I will myself not to cry and look over to see Catia smiling at me. It isn’t a nice or kind smile, but an evil one. It makes me wonder why on earth Maxim would send her to me.

“Go into that dressing room and I will bring you some items. You are a size zero, no?” Her eyes are gleaming, and it is seriously disturbing.

I nod and tell her that, yes, I am a size zero; though, I am sure that I won’t be for long, now that I have stopped dancing every day. I make my way into the dressing room and sit down. Taking a deep breath, I just relax for a moment. Twenty minutes or so goes by and I can hear Catia talking, but it isn’t to me. It seems as though she is on the phone.

“Max, I cannot believe you married this girl. She is but a child. How can she take care of your
needs
?” She giggles like a schoolgirl, and it sounds weird. “Oh, I miss you so much, Max. Come to me tonight. Take me.
Fuck
me,” she groans. I feel like a voyeur listening in on her conversation, but she is being so terribly loud and the dressing rooms seem to make her voice echo.

“She doesn’t know you like I do. She cannot possibly take care of you the way I can. Maxim, the girl has no breasts. I mean, honestly, it must be like fucking a boy. I need you inside of me, and I know you don’t love her. Hell, you fucked me the day of your wedding, if I recall correctly. Come to me tonight and let me make you feel good,” she purrs.

I stay still, seated, and I gulp down air, trying to bring oxygen into my body.

Catia is talking about
me
, and she is talking to my
husband
—about having
sex
with him.
Why on earth would he send her to help me?
Why would he marry me if he is obviously having
relations
with her?

I am hurt and confused. All those tender moments we shared over the weekend—
our vows
—they were nothing, and they
meant
nothing to him. I am so confused and upset, I don’t know what to say or do. I feel like the world’s biggest fool, and I am so completely embarrassed.

“All right, Max. I will see you tonight. Use your key.”

I hear her heels clicking on the floor coming toward me. I school my features as best as I can. I cannot let her know that I heard her. She is not a nice person, and she will no doubt laugh in my face if I seem upset.

“I have brought you several daytime dresses, skirt suits, cocktail dresses, and a few evening gowns,” she announces, shoving some clothes at me. Catia is all business, but her cheeks are now flushed, and I know it is because she has made plans with my husband for the evening.

“Thank you,” I say softly as I take the items, organizing them on the hanging posts in the room.

“Is everything all right, Haleigh?” she asks, her voice condescending and her smile wicked.

“Yes, it is. I will just hurry up and try these on. I am sure you are busy,” I say, wishing I could fast-forward through this whole awkward experience. Catia hums in the back of her throat and walks out of the room.

I make quick work of trying on all of the clothes. Catia may be a royal bitch, but she does have a great eye for clothing and style. I decide to go ahead and take everything she has picked and then we go to a different department to purchase shoes and handbags. I can’t help but think that this should be fun.
I should be having fun
—purchasing whatever my heart desires—but it isn’t fun, it is
torture
.

My heart doesn’t desire
things
; my heart it desires to be
loved.

Although, I don’t love Maxim, and he cannot possibly love me yet, I had hoped that our relationship would someday turn into love. It doesn’t appear as though this will ever happen. I am to be the wife he fucks while he is home; the wife who attends parties at his side. In the end, he will have his whores, and I am to say nothing. I hate that this is what my life has become.

My hope for love is completely gone,
shattered
, as I watch a woman, who is so beautiful it makes my heart hurt, pick out clothing for me. I know that I will never compare. Maxim should be with her. They fit together. She is tall and curvy, a real woman.

Catia was right; I do look like a boy and I am fooling myself to think that Maxim has any feelings toward me at all, whatsoever. I am in his home and at his side merely for show, as I have always been for my parents. I now know there is a reason, other than Maxim just desiring me to be his wife, for why I am at his side. This has my parents written all over it.

Later that night, after Yulia has practically thrown a sandwich at me and left for the evening, I go upstairs and into the master bedroom. I decide to put all of my new clothes, shoes, and handbags away. I need something to take my mind off my husband and the reason he isn’t home. I spend hours color coordinating every purchase —
perfecting
the space.

Catia spared no expense outfitting me with everything I would need. Silk stockings, garters, lingerie, expensive clothes, thousands of dollars in shoes and handbags. She also informed me that she made a spa appointment for tomorrow afternoon—
so they can fix the disaster I call my hair
. Her words were meant to hurt, and they do, but it is for a reason she doesn’t know.

I am not a vain person, so her telling me that my hair is disgusting and untamed means nothing. Maxim told me he loved my hair down and that it was
beautiful
—the reminder was what hurt.

I shower the day away, crying while I am alone and wet, the only time I allow my tears to fall. I haven’t heard from either of my parents since my sham of a wedding and Maxim is, at this very moment, making love to another woman. I have been abandoned—completely and totally abandoned.

I cannot even dance to take my mind off everything. My stomach growls, protesting the fact that I did not eat the sandwich Yulia hoisted in my direction. Food does not appeal to me; it didn’t appeal when I came home, and hours later, it still does not. Not when my life itself seems so worthless and lonely.