Mafia Billionaire’s Forlorn Wife

005-Rhys

The moment I enter the club in downtown, I know that someone is going to die at my hand today.

Parting the sweaty bodies dancing drunkenly on the floor, I am on a mission to find my wife and I don't even know what I am going to say to her or what reason I am going to give her for being here.

Vernon's words ring through my head— the only reason why I am even here in the first place. I would not have some paparazzi publishing about how my wife was seen frolicking with some random dude in a club.

Double standards much? What about when they publish the same thing about you?

A nagging voice comments inside my head and I have to clench my fist tightly in anger as I brisk walk towards the VIP area where I expect to find her.

I look around all the booths, some of them filled and a few of them empty, but Arabella is nowhere to be seen.

Something akin to worry shoots through my chest as I look around, still not finding her.

All thoughts of finding her with someone else or my reputation being tarnished are gone as all I can think about is whether Arabella is alright or not. She has always been a lightweight when it comes to alcohol and especially now that Vernon told me that she hasn't been eating well, I know for a fact that her capacity for anything intoxicating is especially low.

I rush towards the common area bar and sigh in relief when I find Arabella's best friend Leo standing there.

I approach him with determined steps as I find him speaking to some guy in an amicable manner but Arabella is nowhere around him.

I reach out and grab him by the shoulder, roughly turning him around to face me just as a deep scowl forms on his face and I am sure that he is about to cuss out loud.

However, his words die in his throat the moment he meets my gaze.

"Where is she?" I growl, my voice rising above the sounds of the awful music blaring through the club as Leo glares at me.

Obviously he knows what I have done to her.

"In the VIP booth that I reserved for her. Why do you want to know?"

I don't regard his question with an answer because pure fear strikes through my heart as my eyes frantically look around the club. I take in the crowded dance floor and decide that this is the only place she should if she is alright and no one has taken her.

Leo calls out after me but I am already moving towards the dance floor oozing with sweaty bodies and intoxicated dancers.

I push people aside, I shove them and remove them from my path which earns me protests and slurred curses but I could care less about them all.

All I need is to find Arabella.

And the moment my eyes finally fall on her petite body, all the blood freezes in my veins as I take in the sight in front of me.

Arabella is standing there with some random guy's arms around her waist and hers placed on his chest.

Anger courses through my veins as I watch him dipping his face to her neck. I can't see the expression on her face yet but I know she likes being kissed there.

And just as I am about to turn around and leave, I see her trying to twist in his arms as her fist weakly presses against the man's chest like she is trying to push him back.

My eyes widen as my thoughts of anger are suddenly replaced by those of worry and guilt.

I approach her right when she says, "no...stop...I'm married...let go..."

But the man still does not let go of her and once again, pure rage courses through my body and it only takes me one second to take another step towards them as I grab Arabella's hand in my left while throwing my right fist straight into the man's jaw, hearing a sickening c***k just above the music playing in the club.

Arabella staggers backwards but I pull her towards myself, her body pressing flush against my chest as she blinks up at me with her eyes blown wide open and I know from the way that her pupils are dilated that she is drunk out of her mind.

The brunet who had been trying to force himself upon her straightens and snaps his head towards me just as I grab him by the collar before my hand squeezes his throat.

"How dare you lay a hand on my wife." I hiss at him, liquid rage pouring through my veins as I squeeze the life out of him.

I can't see anything, I can't feel anything. My mind keeps replaying the moment when I saw Arabella struggling to come out of this man's grip and all I see it red.

I am ready to kill this man in the middle of a crowded club and a small circle of people has begun to form around me but I don't give a damn.

That is when a hand shoots out and tries to pull me back.

It's Leo.

"Rhys, leave him, for f**k's sake. Too many people are watching." He hisses in my ear but I only squeeze tighter and feel the life draining out of the man's body. His eyes are drooping now because of the lack of oxygen.

"He shouldn't have put his hands on my wife, and you shouldn't have left her alone right now." I growl at him, not giving a f**k if I get in trouble with the police for killing this man right now or if my reputation takes a f*****g hit. I anyways have the police as well as the media in my back pocket. All I care about is killing this man right now.

And just as I am about to twist my wrist in order to snap his neck, I hear Arabella whispering—

"I feel...I feel like I'm gonna get sick..." and her body staggers backwards and I immediately turn around to catch her in my arms, forgetting all about the man I had just been strangling.

I catch Arabella by wrapping both my arms around her waist as I pull her up to my chest right when her head lolls backwards, and her eyes fall shut.

I swear under my breath, reaching out to cradle the back of her head, "Arabella! Wake up!" But when she doesn't open her eyes, I shake my head and reach down to pick her up in my arms.

"Detain him." I snarl at Leo who immediately nods, reaching towards the brunet who had been trying to grope at my wife. My Arabella. "I'll deal with you later." I growl at Leo who looks positively blanched at what my words mean.

Good.

And with that, I stride out of the club, pushing apart the crowds that had gathered. Once I reach my car, I settle her in the passenger seat just as her head rests against my shoulder and her intoxicating sent of cherry wine and honey tickles my senses, making me groan in response.

This woman is driving me insane and I am not even supposed to feel a single thing for her.

"f*****g hell." I hiss under my breath before pulling back from her and securing her in a seat belt.

I cross over to the driver's side before getting behind the wheel to take her back home. I roll down the windows as I drive through the quite roads of Seattle, taking her to our mansion located on the other side of the town. The cold air brushes past me as I keep glancing at Arabella whose eyes flutter underneath their lids and instant relief washes over me.

Why the f**k am I so tense about her?

She was the one drinking...she went out of her own volition today, why should I be so concerned?

That is when the sight of that bastard putting his hands on her crosses my mind and my grip tightens on the steering wheel till I visibly see my knuckles turning bone white.

Irrespective of how much she had had to drink, that asshole should have backed off the moment she first asked him to. She does not deserve to have someone come on to her without her consent even if she was intoxicated out of her mind and running around butt naked.

My eyes once again flicker to her, her innocent face gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat as she gulps and slowly regains her consciousness just before I turn onto the driveway of my mansion.

She lifts her head up from where it had been resting on the seat behind her and blinks her eyes a few times, looking around before she turns her head towards me.

I meet her gaze and bring the car to a stop, not needing to look to my front to know that I have just stopped in front of the main entrance into the house.

I see her eyes widen but the alcohol in her system delays her reaction as she slurs, "what the hell are you doing here, Mr. Mikhailov?" She asks me.

I clench my jaw, "glad that your ability to think is not completely muddled if you're calling me that." I chide, hating it even more that even intoxicated, she still knows to refer to me in the most impersonal manner.

"Shhh..." she says placing her index finger on her lips as she glowers at me while her luscious lips form a pout that makes my d**k harden immediately. Memories of how her lips taste torture my mind as I clench my fist tighter around the steering wheel.

"Come on, I need to get you inside." And grumbling that, I do not wait for her response before I step out of the car and walk the small distance before opening her side of the door and reaching down to pick her up.

She yelps but limply tugs on the back of my neck with both hands, "don't drop me in your hatred." She whispers in an almost meek voice.

I look down at her and find her looking at me with her big green eyes widened with anticipation and mistrust as she clutches the back of my neck in a death grip with both hands.

Fuck. She actually thinks that I would drop her. That I would physically hurt her.

Would that really be too far fetched for her to think after how you have been behaving?

That nagging voice chides again as I shake my head, and stride towards the house entrance with a scowl fixed on my lips.

I take a breath of relief when I enter the kitchen carrying Arabella in my arms and find it empty. Vernon and Frida would have driven me mad with their fussing had they been here.

I set her down on the breakfast nook by the glass double doors that open onto the back porch overlooking the private lake on my property, she relaxes in the chair, placing her elbows on the table in front of her before staring out at the waters of the lake as the gentle, and cool breeze caresses her face. Moonlight cascades straight down on her as she sits there, with her head against the back of the chair.

I have to force myself to move as I quickly grab a glass and pour some cold milk into it, hoping that it would help get some effects of the alcohol down.

I pour sweet syrup into the milk knowing well enough that she wouldn't drink it as it is— something I found out right after the first time we had gotten drunk together. She hates the taste of milk but is not averted to drinking it with flavour.

I nudge the glass in her direction and she lazily looks down at it, still not making a move.

Shaking my head, I make a mental note for plummeting Leo's stupid face for getting her so drunk as I shudder thinking about what could have happened if I hadn’t reached on time.

When she still doesn’t make a move at drinking it, I push down the irritation that I am feeling and pick up the glass before bringing it in front of her lips while placing the palm of my hand behind her head.

“Drink.” I command her.

She looks up at me with those eyes big and beautiful, staring straight into my soul as I remember the other times she had looked up at me from down there.

My d**k instantly hardens at the memories but I tighten my grip on the nape of her neck, “I will not ask you again, sweet one.” I whisper to her in a voice that she knows all too well.

Her eyes flare with desire and recognition as she quickly brings her lips to the rim of the glass before taking a sip. I hold it in front of her mouth, tilting the glass as she slowly gulps all of it down, glancing at me time and time again with her eyes filled with memories that I would rather forget.

“Good girl.” I whisper, stroking the back of her head as I remove the glass and place it on the table once again.

Her cheeks are flustered as she takes her bottom lip between her teeth, making my fist clench and unclench at the flood of memories that small action brings.

“Go to bed.” I tell her, keeping my voice slightly harsher than required but she keeps sitting there as if she didn’t hear me.

But then, she says, “I can’t.” There is still a slur to her words and obviously with the amount of alcohol that she has had today, only a glass of milk would not be enough to get her to sober up.

I swear under my breath, shaking my head I pick her up in my arms once again, pulling her close.

She giggles at the gesture, nuzzling her face in the crook of my neck which makes it even more difficult for me to control my raging hormones.

I turn on my heel and rush towards the direction of her room, all the while she whispers incomprehensible words and syllables.

I only happen to catch a few—

You…cruel…

…make me cry…

I…miss you…

And these are mostly followed by hiccups.

That stupid organ in my chest clenches in pain as I stare down at her, seeing her eyes closed and her petite frame pressed against my upper body as I try to shake off the impact of her barely whispered words.

Once I reach her room, I open the door with my leg before the lights come on and Arabella groans, hiding her face further in my neck which makes her lips brush against my skin, sending shivers raking through my entire body.

I freeze in my spot, staring down at this goddess that is currently clinging onto me like her life depends on it. The way she has her face planted in the crook of my neck, I can see the serene smile on her lips as she plants a longing kiss on the side of my neck.

A small hiss escapes my lips and I have to close my eyes shut to prevent myself from acting on my most carnal fantasies currently passing through my mind.

“Don’t, Arabella.” I tell her in barely restrained desire.

She raises her innocent eyes and looks at me before giving me one of her sweet smiles which makes my heart flip in my chest.

“Or what? You’re not going to do anything to me while I am sooo drunk.” She says in a dragged whine.

I fix her with a glare, “Don’t tempt me, Arabella, or you will find that I am not an honourable man after all.” I tell her, making sure that my voice darkens just enough to let her know the gravity of my words.

But she doesn’t waver.

Instead, she brings her face even closer to mine until I can feel her minty breath hovering over my lips.

“Then show me.” She says, her voice barely above a whisper as she looks at me with nothing but pure desire flashing in her green eyes. “Show me just how dishonourable you can get, Mr. Mikhailov.”

“Stop calling me that.” I hiss, clenching her waist for emphasis as I glare down at her with a scowl fixed on my lips.

She tilts her head slightly, blinks her eyes at me in the most innocent manner, “why? What do you want me to call you, Mr. Milhailov?”

I know that she is only doing this to rile me up, to get a rise out of me, but I’d be lying if I said that it’s not working.

“You need to sleep.” I say with a scowl deepened on my lips before taking her to her bed and laying her down on it before I try to bring the duvet up to cover her body.

But she has other plans as she grabs hold of my collar and pulls me over herself with surprising force which catches me off guard.

Shakily, my gaze falls down to where her dress has ridden up and I am granted by the sight of her milky smooth thighs and I have to control all my better instincts to not simply throw her over my lap and s***k her ass just to see if she would be so daring even then.

“No, Mr. Mikhailov, I need you.” She breathes in a husky voice which has all my blood rushing to my groin and an involuntary groan escapes my lips when she jerks me further towards herself until I am pressed against her.

This woman is going to drive me insane. I can practically feel the damns of my resolve breaking.

I did not lie when I told her that I am no honourable man and the desire to just flip her over and shove inside her tight p***y is getting closer to winning over my better instincts.

“Do you still think I’m pretty, Rhys?”

Her words are whispered in my ear and it is the only reason why I even comprehend them. Her voice is merely a soft breath at this point as she looks up at me with her green eyes filling up with nothing but pure vulnerability.

All my depraved thoughts come to a halt for a moment as I stare down at her while she looks at me like my answer holds the power to either break her to pieces or make her anew.

The question is so heavily loaded that I almost don’t register the sound of my name on her lips after a month of having missed it.

Almost.

My heart does not fail to flutter like a mad man at that.

“You need sleep, moya solnyshka.” I whisper to her, pressing my palm against her cheek as I use my other arm to hover above her body, in hopes if putting some distance between us.

She shakes her head, her eyes filling up with tears as she looks at me like a broken child, making me experience literal hell right this second.

“Why won’t you look at me anymore? Why can’t you love me?” She asks, and when her voice cracks in the middle of her sentence and a lone drop of tear escapes her eyes and falls onto my fingers that are touching her temple.

Fuck. I’m a monster.

“I can’t, moya solnyshka.” I tell her right before forcing myself to get off of her.

Once again, she does not let me. Like a woman starved, she holds onto me, her nails dig into the skin of my neck and my heart breaks seeing her this way.

And just when I least expect it, she pulls me closer and plants her lips firmly against mine. The taste of vodka on her lips and the cherry flavour lip gloss that she is wearing is enough for me to lose myself in the moment as I reluctantly kiss her back, forgetting all about my resolve to stay away from her.

Her lips move over mine in an almost hungry greed, as though she would pass out from the lack of it. Her lips demand mine to open and when she pushes her tongue towards my own, I lose all sense and growl in her mouth before pinning her to the bed and kissing her senseless.

I bite and nip and suck at her lips and she takes it all in stride, moaning in my mouth while her nails scratch at the skin of my neck in a painfully sensuous manner.

Right this second, my entire body has come alive and this woman writhing beneath me is the only thing that I need. I need her mouth on my own like an addict needs his fix. It has been a long month of staying away from her and now that she is kissing me, I don’t know if I can stay away anymore.

And when she bites my bottom lip, she whispers, “I missed you, pumpkin.”

That is when I go still over her. Remembering everything. Remembering what I am doing right now.

She is Mancini’s daughter. Dominico killed my father. I should not be feeling this way about her. I should not be near her. This marriage is only a sham. I should not be touching her. And I sure as hell should not be kissing her.

I pull away from her and her eyes fly open as realisation seeps into them, and right that second, she seems to understand what is going on inside my head. I see fear mixed with agony appear in her striking green eyes and when I see the tears blending in, I feel something break.

I shouldn’t feel bad about what I am about to do.

And yet, something bitter and akin to guilt and regret takes root in me as I look at her tears falling from her eyes while she tries to hold on to me.

“Please…please pumpkin, just think of all the good times we had, please just love me. What happened to your father is not my fault, my love, please. I didn’t even know about it—”

Those words are enough to remind me of all my anger and pent up frustration as I forcibly detangle myself from her body and get off of her bed, leaving her reaching out for me with tears still shining in her eyes.

And when I turn around and walk away from her room, I know that I am the worst kind of man there is.