Craved by the Wrong Volkov Chapter 2: He wants an open marriage

Braelyn’s pov

The room went silent, and even the music went off. I was on the ground, surrounded by sharp shards. My blouse was doused with alcohol..

The waiter panicked and quickly got up. "I am so sorry, ma’am," he apologised and offered to give his hand. Their stares were on , and whispers went around.

"Who is she?" One whispered, they didn’t bother to lower their tone. Contemptuous evidence in it

"She seems familiar." Another said. They were scrutinising , judging. I never really cared about the whispers said behind before. I pretended not to care. Tonight was different, the weight I have been carrying on my shoulders was finally weighing down

The pressure was cracking from the inside.

"Isn’t she Mr Volkov’s wife?" One gasped.

"How embarrassing. How did she end up on the ground?" Their words were not heavy but their tone carried a hidden ssage.

"Poor thing, maybe that’s why he’s always with Alia." Maybe they knew what I hadn’t been able to see. What I have been ignoring.

"Ma’am, do you need help getting up ?" The waiter’s voice snapped from my trance. I stretched out my hand to him. A sharp cry left my throat, my teeth gritting.

A sharp pain struck my lower abdon. I grabbed my stomach, unable to stand up due to the insufferable pain. Infertility was not the only side effect of PCOS. The waiter panicked, reading my painful expression, and started asking if I was doing well.

"She is probably pretending to steal the spotlight from Alia." Soone scoffed, That wasn’t the truth. It hurts; any small movent feels like I am being stabbed in the stomach.

A hand grabbed from the floor pulling from the room. Tears stread down my face once the sharp jolt of pain struck . Raphael’s grasp was tight on my wrist. His footsteps were fast with anger oozing off his body.

"Please slow down, my stomach hurts." I cried out begging. He didn’t stop moving. His jaw clenched. Raphael continued storming off from the club until we got outside.

"Raphael, please stop. My stomach feels like it is tearing apart." I scread unable to hold it in.

His posture stiffened but he didn’t let go. He approached his car, and the driver hurried out to open the door for him.

"I will be driving. Get her car back ho." He instructed the driver before opening the passenger’s seat for .

Raphael tossed in and slamd the door in my face. He got in through the other side. His hand clenched the steering wheel and there was this look in his eyes I didn’t understand.

"I told you not to co over. You haven’t been feeling well for days but you decided to co over and make a fool of yourself." His voice rose and then was toned down.

My breath hitched, I didn’t know between his words and the pain, which one hurt more, like my heart was being squeezed. He knew I was sick yet chose to attend a party, how ironic.

"It’s not like you care," I sneered, enduring the pain in my abdon.

He groaned, brushing through his hair with his hand. "What do you an Lynn? For once stop acting like a fucking victim."

I didn’t react to his words. My voice was calm but I could not hide the pain. "Can we just go ho?"

He glanced at , finally realising my teeth were gritting in pain. His anger resided like water poured on him. He didn’t say a word more and drove off.

The drive felt like forever, each second felt like an hour due to the heavy silence and thick tension in the car.

Raphael pulled over in the driveway. I didn’t wait for him to open the car and stagger out, crouching down and holding my stomach. The pain wasn’t as bad as earlier but walking was still hard.

Raphael rushed out of the car and swept off my feet. My lips parted to protest but his stern gaze made the words roll back in. "It won’t hurt if you ask for help." He scoffed. His hands held securely as he carried in.

I didn’t understand Raphael. His actions always puzzled . Was there sothing going on between Alia and him or was it just my imagination?

"What are you thinking Brealyn? There is no excuse for what he did. The dical appointnt was important." My thoughts snapped at . My head rested against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, wondering if it still beats for .

*******

Raphael’s phone kept ringing; the sound forcefully woke up from sleep.

The phone kept on ringing, God my head was splitting. Who was calling this darn early? I felt like screaming.

I reached out for the phone on the side drawer and picked up the call without checking the na to give the person a piece of my mind. Before I could snap once, the call connected, and a female voice spoke in a sultry tone.

"Raphael, I could not sleep all through last night. Why did you leave without giving a goodbye kiss?" A familiar feminine voice whined like a spoiled brat.

"Alia," my voice drawled, surprised to hear her.

"Braelyn, what are you doing with Raphael’s phone?" I was about to ask her the sa darn question.

The phone was forcefully pried out of my hand. My head snapped around to see Raphael’s handso face glaring hard at . He had just a towel around his waist, and his hair was damp with water dripping down his toned torso.

He was handso without a doubt but that glare was freaking out.

"Why the fuck did you pick up my call?" He snapped at and then stord away to answer the call outside the room.

My eyes were still staring blankly at the space he was in. What the hell just happened? When did picking up each other’s calls beco a big deal?

I sat up on the bed and waited for him to co back. My mind was wandering around what was so special that he could not say it in front of his wife.

The door creaked open and he stepped back in.

"We will talk later then." He said on a final note before hanging up the call. Raphael didn’t even glance at and went straight to the walk-in closet.

"Raphael," I called out but he didn’t answer. I got off the bed to approach him.

"We need to talk, Raphael," I said, my hand about to reach him, but he backed away.

"Please not today. I have a lot going on." He brushed off, his attention on his trousers he was putting on. I felt like laughing, he had a lot going on. Then what was I ant to say?

"So that is how it is now? I am not extra trouble for you to handle." A dry laugh left my lips. Raphael sighed, his annoying face that always made my heart skip looked annoyed.

"Playing the victim again. Everything isn’t about you Lynn. I am just tired of everything." He groaned, rubbing his face out of frustration.

My hands clenched, and I stood close to him, squaring him with my eyes.

"You didn’t even ask about yesterday’s appointnt. You don’t even care how I am faring and I am the one playing the victim card."

This was ridiculous. Our eyes locked. Those sharp hazel eyes that stole my heart at first glance.

"That’s why I am tired, Lynn. Last night, I called the doctor, and he updated on everything, Lynn. Right now I just don’t want to talk about it. So please cut so slack." He spat before angrily walking to the mirror to fix his shirt.

My feet were stuck, "the doctor told you everything." I blurted, guilt and self-doubt washed over

Raphael didn’t look away from the mirror but he answered .

"Yes, every detail about how risky your condition is and how even after the surgery there isn’t an assurance this union might ever have a child. Even if we try a surrogate, your hormones are out of control, and getting an egg would be hard." We both went silent and he glanced at , jaws clenched.

"I just want to be a father, Lynn. I always wanted to and you know it."

My eyes stung, and I could not hold his gaze. I also wanted to be a mother.

"Sorry, but we can still try. There is still a chance."

"What if, after everything, nothing works in the end, Lynn?" I went silent. Raphael looked hesitant but he said those words I never expected from him.

"I think we should try other options and see other people. I want an open marriage, I want to be able to hold my own child."