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“I don’t know. I came upstairs last night and saw her in bed with you and I was fine, a little jealous that she wanted you, but okay. Then I saw her this morning and this anger came over me and I wasn’t even in control of what I was saying. Words just kept coming out and I couldn’t stop them,” Vik groans, running his hands through his hair and tugging at the dark strands.
“She wants to leave,” Lev says sadly.
“Of course she wants to leave,” I snap. “She was always going to want to leave, until we make her want to stay. If Vik could stop being an asshole for three fucking seconds, that’d be a lot fucking easier. I’m normally the asshole and you’re the fucking charismatic one, where the hell has all that charm of yours gone?” I ask my brother.
“What if she only wants you?” he asks, looking me straight in the eye.
“She won’t.”
“She’s your wife, not ours,” Lev says, surprising me.
“Trust me, she doesn’t give a fuck that the marriage certificate we created has my name on it, not one of yours,” I scoff.
“Will you keep her if she wants you, but not all of us?” Vik asks, his eyes narrowed and shrewd.
“She doesn’t want me. I got into bed with her last night, she didn’t come to me. But we’ll make her want all of us,” I insist, unwilling to say what I really feel, which is that sleeping with her in my arms last night changed things for me.
Before that, I wanted to own her, because for so long she’s felt like she belonged to us. But feeling her soft body pressed against me while she slept… now I just want her. I want to fuck her while she’s awake with those expressive eyes of hers looking up at me while I slam into her body, just as much as I want to push into her while she’s unaware, her body taking what I force her to accept.
“How?” Lev asks.
“We don’t give her the space she keeps trying to force between us. If she’s in the bedroom, one of us is too. She wants to sleep behind a door, so we take it in turns inviting her to our beds and if she refuses, we sleep in the big bed with her. We eat together, spend time together, we make sure that from now on, she’s never alone,” I tell them, smiling as the plan comes together in my head.
“She won’t share a bed with me,” Vik says sullenly.
“If she’s worried about sleeping with you, then one of us will offer to play chaperone. Making her feel safe is how we get her to stay.”
“We could all just sleep in the big bed,” Lev suggests hopefully, “That’s why we got it in the first place.”
“She fucking hates us, I don’t think she’s going to agree to sleep in a bed with all three of us,” Vik scoffs.
“She wants to pretend she’s a prisoner. Prisoners don’t get a choice where they sleep. Believing she has no choice is making this easier for her. I ordered her some new clothes to replace all the pink and floral, which she hates. But she wore the clothes I picked for her this morning, because I told her that’s what she had to put on today,” I explain.
“She’s never going to want to stay if she feels like a prisoner,” Lev says exasperated.
“Unless we Stockholm her,” Vik says, rubbing his thumb over his lip thoughtfully.
“Jesus Christ,” Lev hisses. “We want her to want us, not to cause her to have serious mental health issues.”
“Let’s just start by making sure she’s not alone. For the minute, we take away her choices. If she argues, remind her that prisoners do as they are told.” I smirk. “I’ll go and find her this morning. Lev, you can get her for lunch, then start teaching her how to swim, she really does need to learn. Vik, at dinner you can have her, you need to apologize and then spend some time not being an asshole. Tonight, we can explain more about the plan to bring down Orlov. This is her world now, and I think bringing her in to the planning will make her understand that.”
“You need to stop calling her Alena.” Lev points at me.
“I know, I’m trying,” I sigh. Pushing back from the chair, I head into the house and up the stairs to the bedroom. She’s not in the bed, where I expect to find her, but the doors to the balcony are open and as I step closer, I can hear voices.
“Do you know how to use that gun?” she asks.
“Yes, ma’am, I’m a very good shot, you’re in safe hands,” a male voice answers.
“Can you teach me?” she asks, softening her voice until it’s sweet and coy.
“Sure. You want to learn how to shoot?”
“Why not, there isn’t anything else to do here,” she replies, giggling.
“Sure there is. This is paradise, you can fish, swim, we have jet skis, helicopters.”
“Jet skis?” she asks.
