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Silent Lies: Chapter 15


I lean my shoulder on the doorframe and regard my wife. She’s at the kitchen island, cautiously cutting up something with measured slides of her knife. Despite being busy with domestic chores, she’s wearing another crazy outfit paired with gold faux fur slippers. Her fashion choices are completely ridiculous, but she’s beautiful as hell, even when wearing her absurd getups.

When I came home last night, Sienna was already asleep. As I do every night, I carried her to my bed. I ate her perfect pussy while she was still half-asleep, and then I fucked her. Hard. I held her in my arms all night, but still took her back to her room this morning before heading to work. I don’t know why I keep doing it. I am so fucking angry, but can’t determine the reason behind my rage. Is it her lies, or that she lied to me? Maybe I’m angry at myself because, even after everything, I can’t make myself hate her.

And that is the fucking problem. That is why I’m here now staring at my wife like a goddamn creep.

As I watch, Sienna sniffs and brushes her eye with the back of her hand. I become alert immediately and march across the kitchen.

When I reach her, I grab her around the waist and lift her to sit on the island next to the cutting board.

“Drago?” She blinks at me in confusion as tears slide down her cheeks.

I close my eyes for a second, trying to calm down. Whoever dared to say or do anything that made my wife cry will be leaving this house within ten minutes. In a fucking body bag.

“What. Happened?” I ask through gritted teeth.

“Um . . . I’m helping Keva prepare an onion sauce.”

I look down at the cutting board. Fucking onions. “Nevena!” I beckon the girl fumbling with the spices. “Take these away.”

“What? Why?” Sienna asks.

There’s no way I’m telling her that I nearly went ballistic because she was crying over damn onions. Instead, I reach behind my back to take out the gun Relja got for me and place it on the counter next to Sienna.

“Glock 42,” I say. “Relja couldn’t find a pink one on short notice.”

She arches an eyebrow at me. “Why would I need a gun?”

“Just a precaution. We’re expecting some problems.”

Sienna takes the gun and looks it over, then releases the magazine. “Only six rounds?”

“You plan on going on a rampage, mila moya?”

“Maybe.” She snaps the magazine back in with a flourish.

My cock hardens at the sight of her looking so innocent, with her feet dangling off the counter, and, at the same time, handling the gun like a pro.

“Did your brother teach you to shoot?” I ask.

She laughs. I wish I could hear the sound.

“Arturo would never let me touch a gun.” She leans forward and waggles her eyebrows. “I told him I was going to a dance class. I even carried a bag with dance shoes and a costume with me, and showed him some moves I learned online so he wouldn’t ask questions.”

“You’re going to keep that gun in your room, but if you are leaving the house, even to go play with the dogs, take it with you.”

“My room?” She pauses, eyes twinkling. “Or our room?”

I’m tempted. So fucking tempted, but can’t give in. I grab her chin and tilt her head up. “Your room, Sienna. I thought you understood that.”

“So we’re just fuck buddies who happen to be married?”

“Something like that.”

She scrunches her nose at me and swats my hand away. “Go to hell.”

I follow her with my eyes as she jumps off the counter and heads toward the door only to stop halfway to the threshold. She stands there for a few seconds, then turns around.

“From this point on, forget the fuck buddies part, Drago. I’m done,” she bites out and cocks the gun I gave her. “If I find you in my room again, you’ll witness firsthand just how much I’ve learned in those classes.”

And then, my sparkling, innocent, ray-of-sunshine wife raises her gun, aiming at the empty milk jug next to me on the counter. An epic boom echoes through the spacious kitchen as the container flies backward and ricochets off the pantry door. Someone screams. Filip and three other men burst into the room with guns drawn. They don’t even pay attention to Sienna, who is still standing in the middle of the kitchen, holding the gun in her hand, and looking cute as a button in her pink sweaterdress and fuzzy slippers. Everyone is yelling, making my head feel like it’s going to explode, but all I can see is my wife. She stares daggers at me, a wicked grin gracing her face. Everything else fades away, as usual, when she’s in the room.

I saunter up to her and grab the back of her neck. She narrows her eyes at me and tilts her chin. My little devil who walks the world disguised as an angel. I wrap my free arm around her waist, pulling her up against my chest in the process, and crash my mouth to hers.

Something thuds on the floor, probably the gun. Sienna’s arms loop around my neck, holding tightly as she returns the kiss. Our tongues battle for supremacy. But then, she suddenly stops and leans away.

“Put me down.”

I loosen my hold, letting her slowly slide down my body.

“Remember—not a foot inside my room,” she says, then bends to collect the gun off the floor and sashays out of the kitchen.

When Sienna is out of view, I turn toward my men, who are on the other side of the kitchen, watching and looking confused.

“Back to work,” I snap.

They put their guns into their holsters and hurry out, passing Keva where she stands in the doorway with her hands on her hips.

“It’s official,” she declares. “You two were made for each other.”




I lay the gun inside the nightstand drawer before shoving it shut.

“That son of a bitch,” I mumble as I slide beneath the duvet and pull it over my head.

My hands are still shaking, so I slip them under the pillow and take a deep breath. I’ve never shot a gun outside of the shooting range before. Dear God, I could have hurt someone. I could have shot my idiot husband by mistake. It’s not like he doesn’t deserve it, but still, just the thought of Drago getting hurt makes me nauseated.

This is not me. I don’t go around threatening people, shooting at stuff, for God’s sake, but that man . . . that damn man is making me lose my shit like no one ever has.

“I’m done,” I mumble into the pillow.

I’m going to pack my stuff and call Arturo to come and get me. The don will probably go apeshit, but I don’t care. I can’t handle this anymore.

Throwing the blanket off, I rush to the dresser and start taking out my clothes, only to stop when I get to the workout gear Drago bought for me. The look on my husband’s face when I walked out of the dressing room wearing the tracksuit was priceless. I drop down on the bed, clutching the matching sweatpants and sweatshirt to my chest. I don’t want to leave. But I don’t want to stay, either. I . . . I don’t know what I want anymore.

My gaze shifts to the phone on the nightstand. I reach for it and hit my sister’s number.

“How is my favorite sister?” I chirp when Asya takes the call.

“Your favorite and only sister is fine. And she knows that tone. It means you did something.”

“What?! Of course I didn’t! I just wanted to chat.”

“We spoke two hours ago. What did you do, Sienna?”

I lie down on the bed and tilt my head up to stare at the ceiling. “I almost shot my husband.”

“Shot?” she yelps. “What are you talking about? What happened?”

“He bought me a gun.” I shrug even though she can’t see me. “I was mad at him.”

“So, you shot him?”

“No. I shot a milk jug. An empty one. But if my aim had been off, the bullet could have ended up in his kidney.”

“And why are you mad at him?”

“I asked him if all we are is fuck buddies. He said yes. He’s mad at me, too.” I sigh. “I’ve been giving intel on the Serbian organization to Ajello. Drago found out and kicked me out of our bedroom. Now he ignores me. Well, when we’re not having sex, that is. But he’s still mad at me.”

“You’re sleeping with him?”

“Of course I’m sleeping with him. Don’t you sleep with your husband?”

“I’m not spying on my husband! How . . . how can you two be sleeping together when he knows what you’ve been doing?”

“Very nicely, actually. The sex is amazing, and Drago likes to cuddle afterward.” My lips curve up. “I love it when he pulls me into his body and wraps his arms and legs around me. I feel protected, like nothing can touch me when he’s there, you know? But then, in the morning, he carries me back to my new bedroom and continues to pretend that I don’t exist during the day.”

“And it bothers you.”

“It doesn’t. I’m just saying.” I shrug again. “He has the most amazing eyes . . . Light green with brown flecks. But when he’s mad, they get darker. It’s sexy as hell.”

“So, you like him?”

“No, not particularly. He’s grumpy most of the time and he doesn’t talk much. I wish he did. His voice is sexy, too.” I roll onto my stomach and bury my nose in the pillow. A faint smell of Drago’s cologne clings to it. He’s never spent a night here, so it’s probably from my hair. He usually tucks my head into the crook of his neck when we sleep.

“So . . . you don’t like him.” Not a question, but I can still hear the uncertainty in her tone.

“Nope. I just like being around him?”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Asya sighs.

“I miss him when he’s not here. I don’t like him, but when he’s not around, everything seems . . . empty. He made me go for a run with him one morning, and we’ve been jogging together three times a week ever since. He bought me this amazing lavender—”

“You jog?”

“Yes. Well, until he caught me checking out his phone. He thought I was reading his messages so I can report on his business to the don, but I just wanted to see if he had photos of his exes on there.”


“Oh, I forgot to tell you. He took me to a wedding before the phone incident. It was in this huge tent. At least four hundred people were there. And a band. I danced on a table.”

“You what?”

“It seems to be a thing at Serbian weddings.” I laugh. “I wish you could have seen it. Even the bride did it. I took a selfie with Drago and posted it on my social media. Didn’t you see it?”

“Um . . . not exactly. Your accounts have been set to private for weeks.”

“What? I probably clicked something by mistake, I’ll switch it back.” No wonder no one has been commenting or liking my photos.

“Are you still snitching on your husband to the don, Sienna?”

“A little. The last time Ajello called me, I told him some nonsense about the fridge being broken and, before that, I said that Drago is buying another truck. I need to check in again next week, so I have to come up with other trivial stuff that I can give him.”

“Drago’s people are not talking about business when you’re around?”

“Oh, they do. I’m just not letting Ajello know any of the sensitive info.”

“And does your husband know that?”


“You need to tell him, Sienna.”

“Why would I do that? I don’t give a fuck what he thinks of me.”

Silent seconds stretch before Asya finally replies, “Because you’re in love with your husband.”

“What?” I burst out laughing. “I’m not in love with him. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I know you, Sienna. And I know how your mind works. You are in love with Drago, but you’d rather keep lying to yourself than admit it.”

My body tenses. A sense of foreboding washes over me, starting in the pit of my stomach and then spreading through the rest of my system until I fear it’s going to swallow me whole. “No,” I choke out.

“He’s not going to die, Sienna.”

I bury my face into the pillow to stifle a whimper. She doesn’t understand.

“What happened to our parents was never your fault. Neither is what happened to me. You need to stop believing that everyone close to you will end up dead or hurt, sweetie.”

“I need to go,” I mumble into the pillow. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Sienna, please—”

I end the call, turn on silent mode, and slide the phone under the pillow.

It’s almost time for dinner, but I don’t think I can handle food now. Or people. After getting up from the bed, I take my pajamas and underwear and head into the small attached bathroom. I stay in the shower until the water goes from hot to freezing cold. Then, I climb back into bed, but instead of sleeping, I end up staring at the blank wall.

I’ve probably been staring at it for an hour when I hear the door being opened. I squeeze my eyes shut and listen. A few seconds pass in complete silence before the click of it being closed reaches my ears. He didn’t come in. Why does that make me want to cry?

The mattress dips beneath me, and whatever breath was left within me gets lodged in my chest. Held captive like my suddenly still heart. The blanket slides off my body slowly, inch by tiny inch until it’s off completely. A touch lands on my hip, right where my top has ridden up. It’s so light, no more than the tip of a finger. I can barely feel it as it moves over the skin of my stomach, tracing a line just above the waistband of my pajama bottoms.

“You never asked me how I knew you can understand Serbian,” Drago’s deep voice fills the stillness in the room.

I tense but keep my mouth and eyes shut. There’s no point in replying since the lights are off. His other hand comes to my waist, fingers hooking onto the band as he slowly slides the pajama pants down my legs.

“You are exceptionally good at pretending, mila moya. But you slipped up during dinner a while back.”

His fingers are stroking the skin on my thighs as he pulls the panties down. A small moan escapes me, so I quickly bite my lower lip, trying to suppress the next. I know he knows I’m awake, but I keep up the guise nevertheless.

“I have to give it to Ajello, choosing you for the job was a magnificent move. If it was anyone else, I would have seen through the deception much earlier. But I was blinded by the innocent, sunny girl with wide smiles and ridiculous outfits, one who came into every room or situation in a whirlwind of color and joy.” The panties are off and Drago strokes a path up my legs, higher and higher, until he reaches my pussy. “Was it out of obligation to Cosa Nostra? Or did you simply want to royally fuck up my life, just for the thrill of it?”

His finger starts sliding inside me as his thumb presses onto my clit, circling it.

“I guess it doesn’t matter anymore. But know one thing, my beautiful, glittery spy. The choices you make bear consequences. Feel free to keep shooting at me. And I’ll keep being mad at you for lying to me. It doesn’t change things.”

I suck in a breath as he adds another finger, stretching me. My eyes are still closed but I can feel his presence over me, and then his breath between my legs. I take hold of the headboard as tremors rack my body. The slight trembles at his earliest touch have turned bone-shaking as if I’m burning up with fever.

“You’re mine now, Sienna. There is no going back!” he growls and buries his face between my legs, sucking on my clit so hard that I scream his name at the top of my lungs.

I let go of the headboard and thread my fingers in Drago’s hair while he continues to devour me. I can’t take a second more of his onslaught, but at the same time, I will fucking die if he stops. I’m lost, ready to explode when his fingers slide out of me. He takes one slow, long lick up my slit, and then his mouth vanishes. My eyes fly open.

The illumination in the room is scarce, just moonlight coming through the small window, falling on Drago’s form. He’s standing at the foot of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt as he stares at me. I love watching my husband when he puts on his clothes because he does it slowly and methodically, every movement calculated. But I enjoy seeing him remove them much, much more.

Drago drops his shirt onto the floor and proceeds to unzip his jeans. My eyes feast on his wide shoulders and sculpted chest, my soaked pussy throbbing with need. The moment I see his huge cock, my mind goes blank. A strange growling sound fills the silence, and it takes me a moment to realize that it’s coming from me. I leap off the bed, right at my husband.

His large hands grab me under my thighs, gripping tight, and the next second, my back is slammed against the wall by the window. Drago’s face hovers before mine, his eyes boring into my own. His breathing is slow.  Deep. I wrap my arms around his neck and tangle my fingers in his hair. And then I pull it. Drago’s nostrils flare and his breaths quicken.

“Do you tell your don the details of how I fuck you, as well?”

I smile. “Maybe.”

Drago grinds his teeth. Even in low light, I can see the muscles in his jaw twitch. I slide one hand toward his neck and the other to trail the line of his chin with the tip of my finger until I reach the corner of his mouth. I wish he would kiss me right now. It’s different from sex. Having sex with Drago Popov is an experience that tops everything I’ve ever encountered. It’s raw, angry, and unapologetic. But being kissed by my husband is like having my mind relentlessly seduced and set to smolder by the heat of his lips on mine. And it scares the living shit out of me.

“Sometimes, I wish I could kill you, Sienna.”

He crashes his mouth to mine as he thrusts his cock inside me. And both my pussy and my brain combust.


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