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Wife. Husband.
What the hell is going on? Have I perhaps woken up in an alternate reality where the captain is my husband?
“Dinner will be ready in an hour,” Nadia announces, then leaves the room.
The moment the door closes, I feel the shift in energy and the intense scrutiny someone’s keeping on me.
I don’t dare look up at him as if I’ve done something wrong. The fact that he still has his arm around my waist doesn’t help, though.
He lifts my chin with an index finger and leans forward, so I have no choice but to be trapped in those punishing eyes.
My lips are a breath away from his, and I can’t help staring at his mouth. It’s clamped in a line, the lower lip fuller than the upper one, and his strong jaw is set.
If he inches closer, the tiny space that separates us will be gone, and I’ll get to taste those lips—
What the…
No.
“What are you doing, Captain?” I whisper so low, I wouldn’t be surprised if he can’t hear me, and for a moment, I think he doesn’t.
Or I wish he doesn’t.
Just then, his thumb and forefinger squeeze my chin until I wince.
“That’s what I’d like to ask, Lipovsky. What the fuck did you think you were doing back there? Did I or did I not tell you not to put yourself in danger?”
“I…had no other choice. He was smart enough not to have fallen for a stick or a rifle. It smelled like a trap, even to me.”
“This fucking—” He cuts himself off and breathes evenly. “You defied direct orders, and you’ll be punished for it.”
“Come on! I got us the guy…”
I trail off when he glares at me with his scrutinizing eyes. Jeez. It’s impossible to keep staring at him and not suffer an injury of some sort.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “And it’s not like I wanted to get shot on purpose. It hurts, you know.”
He releases a long breath, and I’m not sure if it’s in frustration or resignation, but considering that he releases my chin and waist, I’d go with the second.
The loss of his touch leaves me inexplicably empty as he stands up and walks to the window. His movements are light and inaudible, despite his massive build. At first glance, he’s no different than a giant cat lurking in the middle of the night, waiting for prey to pounce on.
For some reason, I feel like that prey.
When he opens the curtains, I’m blinded by a white fog.
I can’t see anything beyond the heavy snow that’s blazing outside.
In a moment, this small room feels like a haven against the exterior world.
My hurt shoulder is less tense, and the pain dulls to a throbbing ache. I grab the blanket and pull it up to my chest, my heart beating loudly.
Even my ears feel like they’re on fire as I stare at the rippling muscles of his back.
“Captain…”
“Call me Kirill. The old couple will find it weird that you address your supposed husband as Captain. They’re too old-fashioned and need clear labels.”
I try to speak, but the words get stuck in the back of my throat, so I breathe deeply first. “Did you… Why did you dress me as a woman?”
