Page 43 of Forced & Owned By the Bratva Boss

Chapter Eleven

Audrey

The first thing I do when I wake up is reach for Igor.

My hand glides across the sheets, searching for the warmth of his body, but all I find is cold, empty space.

My eyes fly open.

I glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s barely a couple minutes past seven in the morning, and I was so exhausted after sex last night that I didn’t even notice him slip out of bed.

Memories from last night invade my mind. I bite down on my lip, replaying each of them one by one—how he kissed me, how he fucked me, how made me come and then held me until I fell asleep.

My chest flutters and butterflies grow wings in my stomach, but the feeling disappears as quickly as it came.

I can’t be too happy yet. I still don’t know how Igor will react when I tell him about the person I was working with and that he was behind the attack.

He’ll be mad, rightfully so.

But what comes after?

What if he divorces me, hates me, or decides he no longer wants anything to do with me? I’m becoming used to this life—having him shower me with attention and everything I wanted from him a year ago.

I still don’t have his heart. There’s no guarantee I’ll ever have it, but it won’t help my case when he finds out the truth.

Pain splinters through my chest at the fear of what might happen. Still, I know I can’t keep this a secret. He’ll find out sooner or later, and I’d rather be the one to tell him everything.

I try to move my injured shoulder, but the pain that shoots down the rest of my arm sends a warning that it’s not healed enough for me to use yet. The doctor told me it’ll take at least a month before I can move it without feeling any pain.

Managing to roll out of bed with the help of my other hand, I throw on my robe, slip into my leggings and fur slippers, and head downstairs to look for Igor.

I don’t find him in the kitchen. Instead, I see Dan making breakfast.

“Hey, have you seen my husband?”

“Good morning, Mrs. Nazarov. No, I haven’t seen him.”

He barely even looks at me at me as he answers. Igor’s possessiveness the other day must’ve traumatized him down to his bones.

Poor guy.

Leaving the kitchen, I walk around the mansion, from the patio to the balcony upstairs, and then I check the guestroom and his study. When I don’t see Igor anywhere, I finally accept he’s not home.

I hate the foreboding feeling that claws its way into my thoughts. Igor wouldn’t leave the house this early in the morning, especially without dropping a note, unless it was something urgent.

Grabbing my phone from the nightstand, I call my husband twice. The phone goes to voicemail both times.

The churning in my stomach explodes into full-blown anxiety. I need to make sure he’s okay.

I call Sergei, and he answers on the first dial.

“Hey, Sergei, it’s me.” My voice trembles nervously. “Are you with my husband? He wasn’t in bed when I woke up, and he’s not answering my calls.”

There’s a pause on the phone. It stretches too long, making me even more anxious.

“Errm…the boss had an urgent meeting this morning,” he finally answers, though it’s hard to ignore that he doesn’t exactly sound like himself. Something’s off with his tone. “We’re at the club. We won’t be back until later tonight.”

“Uh, okay. Tell him to call me back when he can.”