Broken Whispers: An Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance (Perfectly Imperfect Book 2)
Broken Whispers: Chapter 15

I lean my shoulder on the pillar and watch Bianca and her mother as they try on shoes in a shop across from me.

Bianca decided to go shopping with her and asked me if I wanted to tag along, but since I’m not a fan of her family, excluding Milene, I declined and sent Denis with her. There was a ton of work to be done anyway, so I planned on spending the morning in my office. It took barely an hour for me to lose it, grab my keys, and come to the mall. I’ve been following them at a safe distance for almost three hours while they visited multiple shops and went for coffee.

I couldn’t stomach the idea of Bianca being ogled at by other men at the mall, and me not being there to stop them. Every fucking second I spent sitting at my desk, I kept imagining some guy approaching my wife and openly flirting with her. It wasn’t that I thought she would welcome it. I know her well enough to be sure she wouldn’t. Still, the thought of some other man talking to her drives me insane. It wasn’t even a month ago when I suggested to Sergei that he should visit a shrink, but now, it looks like I might be the one who needs counseling.

Bianca and her mother move to another part of the shop and peruse some bags displayed on a wall, so I take a step to the side to keep them in my sight. Denis is standing by the shop’s exit, while a few paces on his left is another man in a suit, probably Chiara’s security detail. The store attendant—a male employee—approaches Bianca and tries to start a conversation with her, but she only smiles and walks away. I grind my teeth and continue watching her, trying to subdue the urge to march into the store, throw her over my shoulder, and take her away.

Bianca

 “You didn’t have to make a scene, you know,” my mother says as she’s trying out one of the purses. “Everybody, and I mean everybody, talked about you two and the exit you made. It was distasteful.”

I smile, take one of the larger bags, and start looking it over. If she only knew what happened in the parking lot afterwards, she’d have a heart attack.

“Of course, Magda had to come over right away to tell me how that kind of thing was expected since you are living with a Russian now, and they are not as civilized as people should be. I hate that woman.” She puts the purse back on the wall rack and turns to me. “I think Bruno made a mistake by marrying you to that man. You are too sophisticated and tender for the likes of him. Do you know what people are calling you two? The beauty and the beast. It’s fitting. I guess you two have sex. I don’t understand how you can let him touch you.”

I gape at her for a second, then start looking through my bag for my phone. My mother’s knowledge of sign language is too limited to understand what I have to tell her. As soon as my hand grips the phone, I take it out, type, and show her the screen.

We have sex every day and I can assure you it’s the best fucking sex I ever had. As for touching, I enjoy touching my husband immensely and even more when he is the one doing the touching. Especially intimately. Mikhail has very skilled fingers and an even more skilled mouth. But most of all, I love when he takes me against the wall, and I usually can’t walk after that.

Her eyes widen more and more as she is reading, and then she thrusts the phone into my hand as if it burned her. “You do not speak of such things to your mother, Bianca.” She squeezes her temples and shakes her head.

I start typing again, and when I’m done, I take her hand and smash the phone onto her palm, screen up.

And tell Allegra that if she keeps spreading lies about my husband, I will tell everyone I know that she has implants in her butt and breasts. I took pictures of the doctor’s report I found on her desk. Just one more word and I’m sending them to all her friends. Tell her that.

I knew those photos would come in handy one day. Allegra has been cultivating an image of a natural beauty. So, her friends finding out that she came home from Brazil with much more than just a tan a few years ago would be social suicide.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me,” I sign.

My mother looks at me in surprise. “You really like him.”

I sigh. There is no point in telling her that I’m in love with my husband. My mother always had problems with understanding emotions, and I accepted that fact a long time ago.

We spend a few more minutes checking out the bags and then move on to the next shop, where Mom picks up a couple of dresses and heads into a changing room to try them on. While I wait for her, I take out my phone, trying to ignore the guy who has been sizing me up from the other side of the shop since we came in. I’m used to men looking at me. It happens all the time, but that doesn’t mean I like it. Just because I’m pretty doesn’t mean it’s okay for a random man to ogle my ass.

I’m scrolling through my phone when I feel a hand land on my waist. I squeeze the handles of my bag and turn around, ready to smash the idiot in his head with it, but I find Mikhail standing before me.

“I guess I should announce myself next time, or risk bodily harm.” His mouth curves up slightly.

I drop my phone into my bag. “Maybe.” I grin. “I thought you were working.”

“I tried.” He places his hand at the back of my neck. “I kept imagining men trailing after you like they were following a beacon. I couldn’t concentrate. I couldn’t think about anything else. It’s maddening, Bianca.”

“So, you have been stalking me around the mall?”

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Three hours.”

“You have a problem, you know?”

“Yes, I do.” He bends down and whispers, “Some guys were watching you when you were trying on that dress earlier. When you came out of the changing room, they were eating you with their eyes and I had to intervene.”

My eyes widen. “Are they alive?”

“I threw them out of the shop when you weren’t looking. I won’t be so gentle next time.” He places his hand on my chin and tilts my head up. “No one is allowed to look at my wife the way they were doing.”

I close my eyes for a moment to compose myself because this is seriously turning me on. Should I be worried about the fact that I find his possessiveness hot? I am all for feminism and emancipation, and I feel rather guilty because just the thought of Mikhail scaring away men for looking at me starts a tingling sensation between my legs.

“And what would you do if one of them tried to touch me?” I sign. “Or kiss me?”

Mikhail’s lips tighten, his eye staring at me, as he bends until his mouth comes next to my ear. “If anyone dared to touch you, I would chop off his hand. Like I should have done with that idiot at your Nonna’s birthday party,” he whispers. “And if someone was insane enough to try putting his mouth near my wife, I would behead him.”

I suck in my breath as I feel myself getting wet.

“Bianca, do you think this color works with my hair?” My mom exits the changing room, and surprise spreads on her face at seeing Mikhail there. “Mr. Orlov. Did something happen?”

“Yes,” I sign quickly before he can reply. “We have to go. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Grabbing Mikhail’s hand, I drag him out of the shop and toward the narrow hallway on the right, where I saw the restrooms.

“Care to share what just happened that made us run from the boutique?” he asks once we’re far enough away not to be overheard.

I turn around to make sure no one is around, pull my skirt up, and tug his hand down to press it onto my wet panties. Mikhail inhales sharply as he massages me with his palm, making me whimper. Without removing his hand, he takes a step forward and then another, guiding me backward until my back hits the wall.

“It looks like you missed me.” He moves my panties to the side and places his finger at my entrance. “Did you, little lamb?”

I nod, put my hands on his chest, and slide them down until they reach his crotch.

“Good,” he whispers, then crashes his mouth to mine at the same time he thrusts his finger deep inside me. “Here? Or home?”

Based on the sound of his voice and how hard his cock is under my palm, he doesn’t like the home option any more than I do.

“Here,” I whisper, not quite believing what I’m saying.

Mikhail grabs me by my thighs and lifts me. I wrap my legs around his waist, put my arms around his neck, and trail kisses down his neck as he walks to the ladies’ restroom on the left. After a quick check of the stalls, he locks the door and carries me toward the wide marble counter with sinks.

I squirm as the bare skin of my backside connects with the cold stone, but the unpleasant sensation is quickly forgotten because I am too focused on removing my panties.

“You’ve fucked up my head so completely, Bianca.” He grabs my hips and buries himself inside me in one swift motion. “I can’t think straight anymore.”

This. The feeling of him filling me so completely makes me want to scream in delight. There is nothing better. Mikhail’s cock is huge, just like the rest of him, and I enjoy the sensation of my walls stretching to accommodate his size. Placing his hand at the back of my neck, he slides out slowly, then slams back into me. I gasp. Then smile.

“Harder,” I urge.

The hand at the back of my neck moves upward, grabbing a handful of hair.

“Like this?” he asks, and slams into me again.

“Yes.” I grip the side of the marble counter with all my strength, wrap my legs around his hips and lean back as Mikhail destroys me, piece by little piece. And the destruction has never felt better.

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