Dangerous Husbands, Broken Wives [18+]

FIFTY TWO: DRUNKEN AND MEANINGLESS

[ANASTASIA]

I feel my lips with the tips of my fingers and tell myself it was all a dream.

It has to be. There's no way I would do something so stupid and embarrassing. I would rather try and try dying kicking myself in the butt than do something as imprudent as kissing the man I claim to hate with everything I have.

But no matter how much I try to convince myself it was nothing but a horny fantasy, deep down in my gut I know the truth. I know I did something as stupid as drinking more than I can handle and kissed my ass of a husband like there was no tomorrow.

Shit. Why would I do that to myself? What was I thinking?

There's no way Ivan would just let this slide. My biggest fear is that he'd see it as some kind of green light and take advantage of it every chance he gets. If there's anything I've learned from a man like himself, is that he never wastes an opportunity at hand. Ivan knows how to drive a bargain, and he knows he's too good at it.

I close my eyes and run a hand down my face.

It's been hours since I woke up in the room at the back of the plane. I don't remember walking here myself, so it's pretty obvious who brought me and tucked me into bed. The mere thought of him kissing me and carrying me to the bed does all kinds of tingly things in my belly.

Numerous times in the past, Ivan carried me to the bed and made love to me all day and night. If the mere repetition of the act reminds me of all the wicked things he did to me and the way he made me scream his names at nights, I can only imagine the effect it might have had on Ivan.

I don't want history to repeat itself. I don't want him to misinterpret anything.

Perhaps it would be wise to clarify things between us when I see him next. Because there's no way I want to have anything romantic or sexual with that man. The only reason I even tolerate him these days is because of my children. I can't shield them from the harsh reality of their father and the world he inhabits, but it would be a tragedy if I couldn't spare them from witnessing a toxic relationship between their parents.

I know from experience that kind of thing can leave deep scars on a child. I have no intention of subjecting my kids to something like that. Maybe once I find a way to escape from Ivan and the Bratva, I'll come up with a story that they'll probably believe. I haven't figured out exactly what I'm going to say yet, but I'm sure it'll come to me when the time is right.

For now, I have a husband to deal with.

God, why is it so hard to face him now? It's not like we haven't been through this before. It should be normal, right? I mean, we're not separated or divorced or anything. We're still a married couple, and kissing shouldn't even be such a big deal.

I huff and take a deep breath.

What's the worst that could happen? He would grin and tease me about it, that's all. Nothing he isn't already doing to make my life hell. What difference could a small, drunken, and meaningless kiss make? Nothing. It would make no difference at all.

With that thought, I push myself up and slide out of bed. I wash my face in the small bathroom attached to the room and fix my dress once I'm done. As I head out of the room and enter the lounge area, I scan the space to find Ivan.

To my relief—relief that comes out of nowhere—I find Ivan asleep in the same lounge chair we sat on earlier. His eyes are closed while his head rests on his fist. His legs are stretched out in front of him. There's a file opened on his lap and a pen in the hand that isn't supporting his head.

I swallow hard, feeling a lump form in my throat, and bite the inside of my lip.

Can't he even sleep properly? What's the point of working all the damn time? Ivan had always been like this. He was either out of the house, taking care of business, or he was locked up in his office, dealing with the same business. He never sat idle. His phones were always ringing, and every 30 minutes, one of his men would show up with something that needed his attention.

The only time he cared to put his phone on silent or away from him for once was when I would drag him to the bedroom and distract him with random conversations. Of course, all my attempts would always end up with him grabbing my face and shutting me up with a heated kiss. He would make love to me, fuck me, and once I fell asleep, tired of all the work he would make me do, he would leave the bed and go back to his work.

I often found myself feeling more like a distraction than a partner. But deep down, I knew he cared in his own way. It was just buried beneath layers of responsibility and ambition.

I watch him sleeping now and can't help but wonder if he ever truly rested.

Was there peace in his dreams, or were they filled with the same relentless pursuit of success that consumed his waking hours?

I sigh softly, torn between frustration and empathy. Despite everything, I still loved him. I'm not a fool to deny my feelings to myself. But while love has its own place in my heart, there's also hate, which weighs just as much.

I shake my head and walk back to find the hostess. She bumps into me while I head to the kitchen section. A beautiful blonde woman in her twenties. She gets up from her chair and perks up.

"Can I help you with something, ma'am?"

"I need a blanket."

"Sure, ma'am," she leaves and returns with a folded blanket in her arm. "Here you go, ma'am. Is there anything else I can assist you with? Would you like something to drink?"

"This will do, thanks."

I take the blanket and thank her before returning to where Ivan sleeps. Gently, I remove the file from his lap and set it aside. Then, I drape the blanket over him, covering him as best I can. One last time, I watch him sleep peacefully under the blanket. Despite everything, he looks almost vulnerable in this moment.

What the hell am I even doing?

Giving more mixed signals apparently!

I sigh and shake my head.

I'm ready to head back and find myself a seat far from him to sit in until we land, but just then, the speakers come to life and the pilot informs us of the upcoming landing.

It has to be my terrible luck because Ivan wakes up right then. His dark eyes snap open at the announcement, and before I know what's happening or even see it coming, his hand flies to his waist, grabs the gun, and shoves it hard into my stomach.

My eyes widen as he pulls the trigger, and my whole life flashes in front of my eyes.

A/N: Oops! :(