Owned by the Badman (Russian Bratva #1) (8 page)

I plug in my cell phone and check to see if I have missed any calls. I haven’t, of course. It is now midnight and I take two sleeping pills, placing the bottle next to me on my nightstand.

I started taking sleeping pills when I was a child. My body would hurt so badly from dancing for hours on end that I couldn’t sleep, so the doctor prescribed them to me to help. The only time I haven’t needed them was the past two days, days spent with Maxim when I thought he cared for me, even if it was just a tiny bit.

“H
ALEIGH.”

I feel my body being shaken, but my eyes are so heavy they won’t open. Finally, a light slap to my face forces my eyes wide. I see Maxim leaning over me. He is shirtless, his blonde hair is dark, dripping with water, and there is a towel wrapped around his waist. He has just come from the shower and the clock on the nightstand next to me shows that it is after two in the morning. I suck in a ragged breath at what that means.

He has obviously showered the smell of Catia from his body before coming into our bed.
Maybe I should be grateful for that?
I don’t know.

“Maxim, what is it?” My voice sounds groggy and far away.

“What the fuck are these? How many did you take?” He is shaking the pill bottle at me. His face is red with rage, his jaw clenched, and he looks beautiful.

“My sleeping pills? They’re prescribed, Maxim. I have been taking them since I was a child,” I admit, my voice slurred. Maxim’s nostrils flare, and I can see a vein in his neck throbbing.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t sleep well,” I mutter as my eyes begin to roll back in my head again.

It is a completely logical answer, and I cannot understand why Maxim is so angry with me.

“You did not take them Saturday or Sunday nights,” he questions, his gaze speculative and assessing.

“Those were the only nights in at least fifteen years that I didn’t need them. Maxim, I am tired, I had a bad day and tomorrow doesn’t look much better. I need sleep,” I say.

I can feel my eyelids growing heavy again. Two strong hands wrap around my shoulders, and Maxim shakes me awake. My head feels like one of those bobble figurines.

“Why did you have bad day? Was Catia not nice to you?” His eyes are searching mine and he looks …
guilty
. I look away from him.

“No, Maxim, your girlfriend was very nice to me,” I whisper.

Maxim releases me and I roll over to face the wall, staring at the blank space while somewhere in the distance I can hear Maxim’s voice. I don’t know what he is saying because he is speaking in Russian. I don’t even know if he is talking to himself or somebody on the phone. I can’t look at him, all I can see when I do look at him is an image of him and Catia standing next to each other, looking …
perfect
.

“
Golubushka
, please don’t be angry,” Maxim whispers from behind me.

I feel his hand running over my hair, the same hair his
girlfriend
said was disgusting. His arm wraps around my waist, firmly, and hauls me back into his hard chest.

“Don’t be angry, my Haleigh.
Please
,” he begs, sounding upset.

He has offered no excuses for his actions, no explanations. He just doesn’t want me to be angry with him, and I think that hurts more than anything.

“I am not angry, Maxim,” I finally sigh as I let the drugs take over my body, yet again. I don’t lie. I’m not angry with him, just so fucking sad at how I have allowed my life to turn out.

The next morning, I am woken by Yulia, who throws the covers off my body then opens the windows and screams for my ‘
lazy ass
’ to ‘
get the fuck up
.’ It seems as the days go by, she is intent on becoming more and more abusive and bitter toward me. This is only day two. I offhandedly wonder what day three will bring.
Physical abuse, perhaps?

I almost care—but not quite. Sonia will be at the house in just a few hours, and it is time for me to prepare myself to meet yet another woman my husband possibly shares a bed with.

My delusions of a happy life are now over.
Yesterday was just the wake-up call I needed.

I dress in a deep plum asymmetrical neckline dress that is shorter than I would normally wear, hitting me at mid-thigh. It is tight at the waist and then flares into a flowy A-line. I pair it with my new gold wedge sandals and keep my makeup minimal. I am sure the spa will show me how to apply makeup properly and fix my hair
to Maxim’s liking.
After all,
Catia
would know what he likes and she made the appointment.

“Hello, dear girl,” a woman says from the entryway.

I know it must be Sonia. She is in her early forties, blond hair styled in a sleek bob, and she is wearing a fitted white pantsuit paired with a bright red silk blouse under her blazer. She is beautiful and she looks kind. I pray that she is.

“Hello, I am Haleigh. You must be Sonia,” I say softly, holding out my hand for her to shake. Instead, she pulls me in for a hug.

“Maxim works for my husband. He is like a son to us, therefore that makes you a daughter.” She smiles widely, showing perfect white teeth. I want to cry at how genuine she seems. The first person to truly show me kindness in a long time,
possibly ever
.

“It is very nice to meet a friend of Maxim’s,” I say.

Something in my voice or face must give away my utter sadness because Sonia turns and looks at me. Her eyes assess my face and she nods before placing her hand on mine and giving me a gentle squeeze.

“He will come around, sweet girl, never you worry.” She smiles sadly as if she knows exactly how I feel. Perhaps, she does.

I nod stiffly, and we begin diving into the home, discussing where to begin. Sonia originally decorated the space, so she is familiar with Maxim’s taste.

“Let’s start with the master, yes?”

“I don’t want to change too much. Maxim obviously enjoys dark colors, and I don’t want to make the space feminine. I was thinking of just adding some accent color, maybe a cream or a dove gray, just to soften the room a bit,” I suggest. Sonia nods as her eyes flutter around the space.

“Cream would be lovely, no? How about we find a tufted cream chair and ottoman. Then we can paint the walls cream? It will brighten the room up without adding anything too feminine like more throw pillows. Plus, it would be a nice little space for you to read or relax in,” she offers.

I smile, loving the idea. We spend the rest of the day in the same fashion. Sonia is wonderful and so very likable. I do hope that I will see more of her
. Maybe she can take me shopping from now on.

“What will you do the rest of today then, dear girl?” Sonia asks as we finish discussing the living room sofas.

“Catia has made an appointment at the spa for a makeover, for me. She said my hair wasn’t presentable.” I phrase things much kinder because to repeat her words would make me cry. I have already had my allotted single cry session, for today, in the shower this morning.

“Catia is a mean little bitch. I go with you. I love the spa. We get to know each other better. I want to hear about your ballets and why on earth you will not be performing any longer. I so loved to watch you dance,” she offers.

I am immediately taken aback.
She has seen me dance?
It shouldn’t surprise me that a woman as polished as Sonia would spend time at the ballet, but that she knows me from there—
recognizes
me—that certainly shocks me.

“Come, darling,” she calls. I walk behind her, sliding into the passenger seat of her luxury car.

“You have seen me dance?” I ask unable to hide my curiosity.

“I have, yes. So has Maks. He came with Pasha and me several times, boasting about his beautiful new bride on the stage before us. Maks can be very sweet and very kind, Haleigh. You will see,
in time.
” She takes a breath before continuing, “His childhood was not an easy one in Moscow. You must give him time, dear girl.”

I nod, appreciating the small glimpse into my husband’s head, but I don’t know what else to say. Thankfully, I don’t have to say anything because Sonia talks and talks and talks all the way into the city. She tells me about her husband, Pasha, and her two children, one boy and one girl.

The girl, she says, is a little spoiled princess, but the boy is her biggest worry because all he wants to do is fight and fuck. She is worried he will get some whore pregnant. I try not to giggle at her words, but she is so frank, so matter-of-fact about her children’s faults. At the same time, her voice is filled with love. It makes me happy to see that not all parents are like mine.

When we arrive at the spa, I am not surprised that everybody there knows who Sonia is. She introduces me as Mrs. Maxim Lasovska. I watch as the receptionist’s face slightly pales before she flashes a fake smile and takes us back to change into robes.

Sonia and I spend the next few hours being massaged, waxed, plucked, dyed, groomed, and painted. I truly fall in love with Sonia Vetrov and her beautiful personality by the end of the day. The spa rushes out to gather us lunch, and I eat heartily for the first time in days.

The stylist won’t let me see my hair in the mirror, so when she spins me around, I gasp at the sight. My once solid light blonde hair now has streaks of deep reds and light browns mixed throughout. She trimmed it to mid-bicep with a few long layers added for body and volume.

I hate it.

I lie and tell the stylist I love it, though. It isn’t her fault Catia told her what to do, that she told her to cut my once long blonde hair, hair I knew Maxim liked.

“What do you think Maxim will say?” Sonia asks as we drive back to the house. She doesn’t seem nervous for me, but she does seem a bit apprehensive.

It is now dark, well past eight in the evening, but I’m not worried Maxim will even know I am out late. I don’t expect his return until sometime around two in the morning again. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since he woke me up upon his late return to question me about my sleeping pills.

“Nothing,” I say matter-of-factly as we pull into the circle drive. Sonia grasps my hand and her pretty green eyes search mine.

“I fear I shouldn’t have allowed them to dye and cut your hair, Haleigh,” she says as she starts chewing her bottom lip. The fact that she seems so worried about it causes my stomach to churn.

“Catia was the one who made the appointment. If he doesn’t like it, he can take it up with her. I am sure he will not have a problem doing so,” I say sharply.

Somewhere between my massage and my haircut, I have grown a bit of a backbone. I think I like it. I am so tired of being weak.

Maybe it is the fact that my confidence is obliterated?

Maybe it is the fact that my own husband snuck away to another woman just days after our wedding?

Maybe it is because I am tired of the charade?

“You have my number, sweet girl. Call me if you need to,” she offers.

I nod and smile, thanking Sonia for the day—the best day I have ever had in my life. I feel like Sonia could truly be a friend to me.

“Oh, Haleigh, dear,” she calls out. I turn to face her.

“Tomorrow, we lunch, and I will introduce you to some of the others. Pick you up at eleven.” She waves and speeds off down the road.

Yes, Sonia is my first friend. She makes me feel good just by being in her presence—and she doesn’t sleep with Maxim, which is a plus.

The house is dark when I make my way inside. I let out a breath, glad that Yulia is already gone for the evening. I don’t want her to ruin my decent day by being her horrible normal self. I walk into the kitchen to get a glass of water and am startled when I turn the light on.

I find Maxim standing at the sink, seething, and looking in my direction.

“Where have you been?” he demands, his voice low, deep, growly, and accusatory.

“With Sonia, at the spa,” I say dismissively.

I am so very tired, and we have only been married a few days; I cannot imagine this
relationship
will last much longer. I hope that he just leaves me alone sooner rather than later at this point.

“What the
fuck
have you done to your
hair
?” he roars, his eyes wide, and his nostrils flaring.