Page 21 of The Butcher
Alexei was on business calls the entire trip, his deep, gruff voice thickly accented as he sometimes spoke smoothly in Russian to the person on the other end and, at times, barking out orders that left no room to guess if he called the shots.
Just like on the jet, Alexei didn’t remove his hand from my thigh the entire ride. It stayed there, steady and unmoving, like it belonged exactly where it was, a brand of ownership that I’d never deny.
His fingers occasionally flexed possessively, digging into my flesh like a silent reminder that even on this honeymoon I was territory he refused to share with the world.
By the time the car slowed, we were passingthrough tall, wrought-iron gates that opened onto a long, winding drive lined with cypress trees. The villa sat high on a hill, sun-warmed stone stretching wide and low against the hills like it had always belonged there. Terra-cotta tiles caught the late light, and wide windows overlooked rows of vineyards that rolled down the landscape in perfect lines. Olive trees with silver-green leaves. Everything about the property spoke of quiet, inherited wealth.
There were guards positioned along the perimeter of the estate, far enough away that they didn’t intrude upon our privacy but close enough that I knew exactly where they were without having to look. It wasn’t something meant to reassure. It was a reminder that nothing here was unprotected.
These were armed men who answered only to The Butcher.
The car came to a stop, and Alexei stepped out first, moving with the same steady certainty he carried everywhere. He rounded the back of the car and opened my door, offering his hand. I took it without question, his palm big and warm, the calluses rough and made me think how many lives he’d taken with them.
The moment my feet touched the ground, hishand shifted from mine to the small of my back, guiding me forward in a way that kept me close.
“You’re quiet,” he said as we stepped inside, his voice closer now, lower, brushing my ear in a way that settled along my spine as I took in the space around me.
The interior didn’t feel modern or untouched the way I expected. The floors were cool beneath my feet, worn stone softened with age rather than polished to perfection, large rugs layered over them in rich patterns that added warmth without taking away from the structure itself. Arched doorways opened into adjoining rooms, thick wooden beams stretched across the ceilings, and the walls held a muted, sun-washed tone that spoke more of history than display.
Everything felt lived-in in a way that didn’t lessen its value. The furniture was heavy, carved wood paired with linen and leather, the kind of pieces that had been chosen to last rather than to impress. Early morning light filtered in through tall windows framed by soft drapes, catching on ceramic vases and aged metal accents placed with artistic style.
“I’m just taking it all in,” I said, keeping my toneeven as his hand pressed more firmly at my back, pulling me just a fraction closer. “I’m just thinking.”
“About what?” he asked.
There was no impatience in his voice, but there was expectation. This man wasn’t used to probing for an answer.
“This,” I said. “Everything.”
His grip tightened just enough that I couldn’t ignore it, and when I turned to look at him, I found his attention already on me, steady and focused like nothing else in the room existed. His hand slid from my back to my waist, guiding me deeper into the villa without hesitation, and I followed without resisting.
That realization stayed with me longer than I expected because the quiet understanding was that I wasn’t fighting him. And I didn’t want to.
The rest of the morning passed in a slower rhythm than I expected, shaped by a light breakfast on the stone patio but more by exhaustion than anything else. The overnight flight still lingered in my body, a dull heaviness behind my eyes and in my limbs, and even the quiet beauty of the villa couldn’t fully cut through it.
The space around us felt still, the thick stone walls holding in the cool morning air, sunlight justbeginning to spill through the tall windows and stretch across the worn floors in long, pale lines.
There were no interruptions, no outside demands, no one stepping into the space that now belonged to us. It was just the two of us, and I became aware very quickly that Alexei didn’t leave me. Not once. If I stepped into another room, he followed. If I paused, his hand found me again. It wasn’t suffocating, not in a way that made me feel trapped.
Even through the haze of fatigue, the way Alexei’s gaze lingered on me longer than it needed to had heat simmering in every part of me.
I stepped out onto the terrace, drawn by the open air and the soft quiet of the countryside. The morning had fully settled in by then, the hills stretching out in muted greens and silvers beneath the early light. Vineyards ran in precise rows down the slopes, olive trees shifting gently in the breeze. It should have felt peaceful, and for a moment, standing there with the cool air brushing my skin, it almost did.
I was only outside for a few moments before I realized he was behind me.
“I wondered where you wandered off, moya lyubimaya.”Mybeloved.
I turned to find him crowding my personal space. I inhaled sharply, relaxing… I liked having him in my space, blocking out everything behind him.
“Just exploring and trying to stay awake,” I said, even though my voice came out quieter than I intended.
“I don’t like not knowing where you are.” His voice was full of possession.
I held his gaze, searching his expression for something that would soften it, something that would tell me he didn’t mean it exactly the way it sounded, but of course, I didn’t find it.
I wanted to tell him I wasn't a piece of property, that he didn’t need to know where I was at all times, but the truth was, in our world, I was exactly that. He was my husband, and in the mafia, a husband was the ultimate ruler in a household. He called the shots, made the rules, and could do what he wanted with his wife. It was too early for me to see which side Alexei was on, even if he’d been gentle with me thus far. I had to play it safe and follow the rules.
“You always need to see me?” I asked.
