Belle's POV

"Nikolai please just let me help you." I pleaded because the man is so determined to put his trousers on himself refusing any help from me or from his brother. It's pretty obvious that he's having a hard time given that he's limping and wounded.

"I don't need help. I am a man Belle. I do my own shit." He replied as if his pride as a man will diminish once he accepts help from anyone.

"I know that you're a man. I have never doubted that Nikolai. You have proven that to me time and again, every day and night since I have known you. And I know that you do your own thing all the time but there are times that you have to let other people in and take care of you. That is what a relationship entails. You don't always have to give. You should also learn to at least open up and realize that Volkov can get shot, needs rest, and needs help to put his damn clothes on. You dig? Now please?" I extended my arms to help him stand so I can put his Armani on.

Thank goodness he heeded my request. "Why are you so perfect? I don't fucking deserve you. Alexei does, but not me." He said and I don't suppose it was even a rhetorical statement.

I looked up at him, stood on my toes, and kissed him on his lips. "Never doubt my love for you Nikolai. And do realize that you are perfect for me. Everything about you-- except the occasional cookoo clock ticking in your brain and the excessive sexual intercourse you're asking of me most times-- you are one hell of a man and a husband. And I mean that in a good way."

He kissed me on my lips, deeply and passionately, I found myself running out of breath. "Ya tebya lyublyu Mrs. Volkov." He whispers. "I did not appreciate you wanting to talk to a divorce lawyer."

That took me by surprise. Not because what I actually said reached his knowledge and attention but the fact that he actually took it a little too seriously. "Nikolai, I was mad when I said that and I wasn't even serious."

"Serious or not, divorce shouldn't even be a thought in your head. You are mine and my brother's forever. And our children will have a complete family until they grow old. You dig?" He said using my words against mine.

has never met his real mother. He has never known her. He was taken by his father from Russia when he was still a baby and brought to New York. He was raised by Vyacheslav who at that time was already living the life as a gangster until later on that

will be the apple of the eyes of their Dictator Granpa, their beautiful and kind grandmother from Palawi and another grandma who can kick some gangster's ass, Matushka Irene. And of course, they have two fathers who are gods in

some fucking miracle you get our marriage dissolved, I will find you and marry you over and over and over

cuckoo clock ticking again Nikolai?" I asked so

you talk Divorce ever again. I highly recommend that

I replied touching his manhood, knowing

~

female version of the blood-red ring he wears. I intend to return this to him later when I see him. I must admit, I miss Artan and of course the

diamond and emerald wrist band which is some kind of a symbol that one is a Conglomerate wife during a Conglomerate meeting. Each color corresponds to a certain organization. The Russian Mafia's colors are emerald or dark green, gold, and white. I know the Albanian's official color is red and the De Alba's I believe is

feel like a twinkling star and it's not a good thing. I really don't want to be this flashy. Less visibility, less public attention, makes for a peaceful private life. But then again,

cigarette. Dammit! I have always known that those two can pull off whatever clothes they wear anytime and any day but tonight,

because the two are looking at me like there's no tomorrow. One can never get used to this. I can never be immune to those unbelievably sexy eyes and electrifying charm. Their mere presence can

Matushka exclaimed holding her hands

you?" I say as a matter of factly. Matushka is wearing an emerald long gown while holding in her hand a

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