Sanctum: A Dark Bratva Arranged Marriage Romance (Wicked Vows)

I GIVE Harper shit about how she velveted my paws and needed kid gloves. But she takes it all in stride and gives me shit right back.

I have work to catch up on and my sister and Aria — still hugely pregnant and due in a matter of days, which has had Mikhail hovering— have been coming by to visit. It helps that Mikhail and Aria don’t live far away. Harper isn’t alone all the time.

Three days after the wedding, Harper gets a phone call from her mother.

“Speakerphone,” I tell her, as I work at my desk on the list of things Mikhail has given me to do. Harper’s in the middle of a late afternoon yoga routine in the office, her legs crossed in front of her. It’s distracting as fuck, seeing her in a yoga outfit with those skintight leggings and that half-bra thing she wears.

She taps her phone. “Hello?”

“Harper. We decided we’d honor your marriage to your new husband by giving you time to… honeymoon, or whatever it is you decided.”

I close the browser and narrow my eyes.

“Mhm,” Harper says, rolling her eyes at me as she stands and does this thing where she lifts one leg straight in the air while steadying herself on the other. “And? Now that we’ve finished our honeymoon you have something to say.”

As if we had a honeymoon. Men in my line of work rarely do.

“What happened to your accounts?”

Harper grits her teeth and brings her leg back down. She mutes the phone. “I cannot do a yoga routine while listening to her. It is not namaste.” She puts the speaker back on.

“My accounts?” she asks, as if she doesn’t know exactly what her mother’s talking about.

“Your social media accounts. The ones you spent years cultivating! They’re gone.”

“The ones you spent years cultivating,” she says, her voice a tremulous whisper. “I hated them, and you knew I did. I wanted no part of the lies.”

“Harper,” her mother says reproachfully. She releases a belabored sigh. “You know why we had you do that.”

“I know exactly why. But you decided you needed me to be married more than anything, so you pawned me off on a Romanov.” I can see the teasing glint in her eye. She’s baiting me.

I shake my head at her, but my lips tug at the edges. She’s earning herself a trip over my knee, but she’s been pushing me now for a few days, so I’m guessing that’s her intent.

“Harper, you know we didn’t pawn you off⁠—”

“That’s exactly what you did.” She walks over to me, the phone still on speakerphone. “And you have no idea how he treats me.” With that, she sidles her way onto my lap. I push away from the desk. Someone’s a needy little girl who wants my full attention, and I’m here for it. “So the answer is, my new husband, the one who you wed me to having no idea who he was or how he’d treat me? He made me delete them. And I won’t be doing them again.”

The phone clicks off. I’m not sure who hung up — her mother or her—but the phone sits muted on the desk.

“I’m still going to kill them,” I tell her pointedly.

“Is that a promise? And do you mean all of them?”

“Your father and brother will pay, Harper.”

She swallows. “I know.”

She bites her lip and looks away. I’m not sure why.

“Aleks, I—” She opens her mouth as if to tell me something then shuts it again. My phone rings. I look down to see Aria’s calling.

Harper stays on my lap and lays her head on my chest. “Always the phone. Why do you get so many calls? Go ahead, take it,” she murmurs. “You have to, don’t you?”

I nod, answering, “It’s Aria,” and put the phone up to my ear.

“Aleks, we need to talk. It’s… it’s very important.”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I just found some information that you need to be aware of, alright?”

“I’ll call you back in ten. Does that work?”

“Yes. But Aleks? When you call… make sure you’re alone, please.”

A strange request, but that’s fair enough. We have to be discreet.

I hang up the phone and kiss Harper. Her skin’s warm from the yoga session, her hair a little damp and tousled. I run my fingers through it.

“You were disrespectful just now, weren’t you?”

“How so?”

“You were testing the boundaries. Being disrespectful talking about your husband, as if being married to a Romanov isn’t an honor.”

She nods and bites her lip, her eyes alight as I silently gesture for her to stand then bend over my knee. I shake my head.

“You should talk about your husband with respect. Did you already forget the rules we went over before we got married?”

“Oh, right,” she says with a teasing lilt in her voice. The fabric of her workout outfit whispers against her perfect skin as I pull her leggings down to expose her tight ass, barely covered with a teeny wisp of a thong.

When I place my palm on her skin, she shivers. I caress first one cheek, then the other, taking my time. I know how she is. I know how to make her wet for me.

I palm her ass firmly, building the anticipation while I lecture her.

“When you talk to others about your husband, don’t you think the right thing to do is to be respectful? Tell me.”

“Yes, of course,” she says, nodding. Her cheeks are flushed from her anticipation and her head-down position over my lap. “I was only teasing.”

The first slap lands and she hisses in a breath. She fucking loves this. “Good. I’m glad to hear that,” I tell her, right before I deliver a second smack, then a third. “You should behave yourself,” I warn. “I’ve given you time to get used to things.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

I give her another slap. “Watch that tone.”

I spank her until her skin is bright pink and red hot to the touch. “Have you learned your lesson?”

“Have I?” she whispers, parting her legs as if to welcome me.

“Jesus, how am I supposed to get any work done under these conditions? I want to be sure you’re going to behave yourself.”

“Of course I am.”

“Are you going to obey me?”

“Mmmm.”

“Good. Then stay over my lap.”

“Aleks!” There’s so much I want to do to her, but I’ve treaded lightly. Our first night together indicated to me how afraid she was of being touched. I won’t use her or abuse her in any way.

“Are you ready to make it up to me?” I ask.

“Of course.”

“Good girl.” I massage her reddened skin. I slap her inner thigh. “Open.”

I’m hard as fuck when I finger her pussy. I relish the way she moans over my lap. I slick my fingers in her wetness and drag the tips across her swollen clit. “You liked your spanking, didn’t you?”

She squirms and moans in response. I’ve got a raging hard-on as I finger her pretty pussy until she arches her back and comes.

Fuck, she’s gorgeous.

I give her perfect ass a parting slap. “Go get ready. I’m ordering lunch. You’ll eat in here with me.”

She leans in, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright, and gives me a kiss.

I kiss her back until she melts against me. I send her to get a shower while I walk to the kitchen and start to think about what dinner could be.

Once I’ve taken stock of what we have on hand, I pause to call Mikhail. He tells me Aria’s on the phone with her midwife.

“Why? Everything okay? Any news?”

“Any day now.” He’s so high-strung and worried, but they’ll be fine.

Half an hour later, Harper’s perched on a stool in the kitchen, nursing a glass of wine. “You’re going to make me an alcoholic,” she says with a laugh.

“Doesn’t look like you need much assistance.”

“Hey!”

I shrug. “You walked right into that one.”

I pause in front of the open fridge, a package of steak in one hand. “What are you wearing?”

She looks down at her clothes as if to remind herself. Tiny ivory shorts and a matching top.

“This is a lounge outfit.”

“Looks easy to take off, which is all I care about.”

“Of course that’s all you care about.” She rolls her eyes, but I can tell she’s pleased. Slowly, we’re getting a bit more used to each other, though we still have a ways to go.

She takes another sip before setting her wineglass down. Even though we’re married, it feels like we’re dating. We’re still testing the waters.

“I’m curious.”

“Mmm?”

“What’s on the roof?”

I put the steak back in the fridge and shut the door. I’ve never taken anyone up on the roof before. It’s my secret place.

“You want to see?”

It’s finally warmed up a bit though it’s still not exactly balmy out.

“I do. I’ve wanted to, so badly, ever since I heard one of your guards talking to another one about it the day I came here.”

Everyone’s jealous of my roof.

“Come on.”

I open the door in the kitchen that leads to the pantry, then show her where a trap door’s hidden in the wall. “This is how you access the roof.”

When the panel opens under my palm, she lets out an audible gasp. “No way. It’s like a secret compartment or something.”

“Yeah.”

We walk up the stairs.

The early evening chill when we reach the roof makes her shiver. I shrug off my sweatshirt and drape it over her shoulders, but I think she hardly notices.

“Oh my God. Aleks— this is… How did I not know this was here?”

I shrug. “Because I don’t tell a lot of people. In my family, we don’t have a lot of privacy. This is mine.”

“So no one can track you up here? No one knows where you are?”Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“They’d know I’m at my house but no, no one would know I’m up here. And I don’t bring any electronics up here.”

I sit back on one of the patio chairs, built large enough for a man like me, and flick on one of the outdoor heaters. In the colder months, the vibrant greenery lies dormant and the roof becomes frost-kissed. I almost like it better this way. A splash of color from evergreens and hardy winter shrubs are nestled amidst padded benches and a trellis. It can be cold without the heaters and it’s sometimes dusted with snow, but it’s beautiful and quiet.

Harper perches on the end of my chair, hands sinking into the cushion, her legs stretched out in front of her. “This is amazing, you know. Truly amazing. It’s a secret garden. Your secret garden.”

“Now yours,” I say softly, reaching for her. I drag her sideways onto my lap, and she nestles in comfortably.

Her eyes reflect the night sky as she marvels at the outdoor furniture and carpet, the oversized plants and small waterfall that trickles over rocks, glimmering under the moonlight. I’m not a romantic guy, but this moment feels like poetry. Her mere presence somehow warms the air around us.

Harper’s voice is filled with awe when she whispers, “This is like something out of a fairy tale.”

We don’t have fairy tales in my world, but she can have hers.

I’ve always seen this as a place to escape, where I can shrug off responsibilities for a little while and just be me.

“I bet you don’t feel like yourself up here,” she says, as if reading my mind.

“This is my sanctuary from the world below.” My only one.

“I understand. I’m the same way. I’ve always had my little sacred spaces. When we lived in a tiny home, I had a closet I made my own. Cleared a little shelf. I would sit there and doodle and color and shut the door when my parents fought.”

I nod. I get that, fully. My parents rarely fought, but my father had a temper, and we weren’t immune to it.

“I knew that eventually, one day, my parents would marry me off. And I decided that I’d make sure I always had a place of my own. In one home, it was a huge maple in the backyard with a flat patch of grass in front of it. In another, it was a kitchen nook that no one used. I understand why you’d want to keep this a secret, though. When you let someone in, it isn’t just yours anymore.”

I nod. She knows I let her in.

“Yeah.”

She holds my hand in the quiet. Stars twinkle overhead. The heater hums.

“We’ll come back another time. I have to go back down and call Aria.”

A shadow passes over Harper’s face. “Did she tell you why?”

I shake my head. “Not sure but she said it’s urgent, so I have to go.”

I shut off the heater and we head downstairs. There’s something magical about being up on the roof… something transcendent. When we return indoors, we’re only mortal again.

Harper heads to the kitchen to grab some food and I call Aria.

“Aleks. I did some digging. Don’t hate me.”

“There are no conversations that end well after beginning that way,” I tell her. “What?”

“Remember how I said that Harper’s family felt… off. There was like a mirage? That it felt like they had a filter in place?”

I don’t want to hear it. Whatever she is going to tell me, I don’t want to hear it and yet I know that I have to.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and let out a breath.

“Yeah. Did you get past that filter?”

I can hear her swallowing on the other end of the line. “I did, yeah. What do you know about Harper? What has she told you?”

I know that she was used by her parents to make them money. I know that she wasn’t allowed to go to college or do anything normal girls her age should do. I know that she was sexually assaulted and that she doesn’t know who did it.

“Not much. Spill.”

“I was at my checkup today with my OB. We have them weekly now. And you know how my mind works, Aleks. You know how I see codes and numbers and patterns.”

“Yeah.”

I do, because I’m the same way.

The hair on the back of my neck stands up. I know she’s going to tell me something big.

“I noted there were code words for tests they took, and I remembered that I came across a few when I was doing Harper’s background check, only I didn’t think much of it then because they led to nothing. So I looked harder. Deeper. I spent all damn day because fuck it, I don’t want you hoodwinked. I don’t trust them.”

My voice sounds distant. Hollow. “What did you find?”

She takes in a breath. “Don’t kill the messenger.”

“Fucking hell, Aria, if you don’t⁠—”

“She had a baby, Aleks. Harper’s a mother. Those times when she ran away from home? It looks like she was going to her child. Those times when she was accused of stealing money from her parents? I’d bet you anything she gave the money to the caregivers. Foster parents, whatever.”

Baby. She has a baby.

“I have to go.”

“Aleks, be gentle with her. Please. I’ll never forgive myself if I⁠—”

I hang up the call and slam the phone onto my desk. It crashes and skitters across the floor.

Harper has a baby.

What else don’t I know about her?