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“He’s too old.”
“Could he be put in an administrative post?”
“Possibly.” I share the first look of understanding with the little fucker. At least we both can’t stand Yan.
Or more accurately, how close he is to the two women out there.
When we walk upon the scene together, Yan doesn’t even bother to stand up and continues sipping from whatever cocktail Ogla has made for them.
It’s Annika whose expression lights up like fireworks upon seeing me with her still-not-her-boyfriend and not actually threatening to throw him into the nearest ditch.
She’s been his spokesperson, manager, and PR specialist ever since the island and has used every trick under the sun to make me warm up to him.
Such as mentioning his protective episodes and that he’s worse than me and Jeremy combined. Or how he learned to cook because he doesn’t want her to get tired—more like he doesn’t want to go through the torture of consuming her food.
Or how he slowly mended her relationship with the friends she made in the UK by telling them that they’d lose him, too, if they reproached her about what happened.
I still plan to give him hell. Even if, deep down, I know he genuinely cares for her.
My daughter jumps up from her chair and runs into my arms. “Papa! I missed you.”
I stroke the top of her hair as she squeezes me tight. As much as I hate to admit it, Annika has grown into a responsible adult ever since the fucker on my right came into her life.
She needed the pain of loss and real-life experiences to shed that naiveté and actually grow into her own person.
“Are you sure?” I ask when we break apart. “Because you barely text me anymore.”
“Oh, please. You don’t even like texting, Papa, and I FaceTime you all the time when you come to steal away Mom.”
She runs to Lia’s side and hugs her. “She’s also my mom, you know.”
“My wife first.”
“Sorry, unlike you, I’m related to her by blood. That gives me more privileges.” She grins like a little daredevil.
“Stop it, Anni.” Lia laughs, but she hugs her back. That little spoiled brat was always a mommy’s girl. When they’re next to each other, they look like sisters instead of mother and daughter.
I sit down with a grunt and glare at Yan.
“What?” he mouths.
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Whatever for?”
“The little show you just put on.”
“I wasn’t touching anyone.”
“Still counts.”
“Stop being jealous of my charming qualities and the fact that I can make Lia laugh while you can’t, grumpy old man,” he murmurs back, then swiftly gets up before I choke the fuck out of him.
He’s also saved by the fact that Lia disappeared inside, probably to see if she can help Ogla with anything.
I catch up to her and pull her by the elbow before she reaches the kitchen.
My wife slams against me with a gasp. My cock throbs as she stares up at me with those huge, absolutely mesmerizing eyes.
