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“Have you already started looking for that role by dressing like a woman again?”
Her lips part. “How did you know that?”
“A hunch.”
“Yeah. I told them that I wouldn’t walk around like a man anymore. I’m strong enough to protect myself now. If I’m attacked, then so be it.”
That’s my woman.
I love how her eyes shine with determination at her decision to finally be free. Or partially free since she’s still bound to her family by an unspoken code of loyalty.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” I bring her another glass and sit beside her. “No one will be able to hurt my wife as long as I’m here.”
She deposits the empty glass on the table and takes the new one. “Would you stop calling me that?”
“Well, aren’t you my wife?”
“Have you ever considered that you could be hurting me the most?”
“How so? I think I’ve proved that none of your misconceptions about me are true. Imagine if you’d kept believing I married another woman and tried to kill you and your family.”
She tenses. It’s subtle, and she soon conceals it, but the image of that possibility must’ve passed through her mind a thousand times.
Sasha’s weakness—the fact that she tends to be an overthinker—could be her downfall.
After a moment of silence, she looks at me, her eyes a mixture of soft green and harsh brown. “You would still put your plans, ambition, and race for power before me. I can’t trust that you won’t do it again.”
“You’re being paranoid.”
“Paranoid? I told you I loved you and you announced your damn engagement to the whole world a few hours later. How is that paranoid?”
I start to speak, but she lifts a hand. “Let’s talk about something else. What are you going to do when you find Makar?”
“Torture him for answers. The Albanians said they colluded with a man to take you out.”
“You don’t think that’s Makar?”
“No. He’s been a servant his whole life. He wouldn’t suddenly turn into a master.”
“Do you think someone is behind his actions?”
“I don’t think. I’m sure. Now, I need to figure out how close that someone is.”
“You have suspects?”
“I always do.”
“Of course.” She releases a breath. “So you torture him and then what?”
“Then you do with him what you please.”
“You’ll entrust him to me?”
“Seems fair since he tried to kill you.”
“Wow. Is the mighty Kirill giving someone else the final say about a critical matter?”
“Not someone else.” I slide my arm around her waist and pull her to me so suddenly, a few droplets of vodka splash her chest. “My wife.”
Despite her best attempts to seem unperturbed, a pink hue covers her cheeks.
I stroke those cheeks as if I can feel the blush against my skin. Sasha remains still, but her lips part as I caress her.
“Have I told you that you look hot when you allow yourself to be you?”
“Save it.” She inches away. “I don’t even put on makeup or anything, so there’s no need for the flattery.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I haul her back to my side again, trying not to get personally offended at the way she created distance between us. “I don’t give a fuck about makeup. I’m talking about you and your stunning blonde hair.”
“I knew blondes were your type,” she grumbles.
I grin. “Is that why you dyed it back?”
“Nooo.” She looks the other way like the most horrible liar who ever walked the earth.
“You told me you were blonde, too, when I first got engaged to Kristina.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“You also said you could be like her. Were you that jealous?”
“No. Kristina who? I haven’t thought about her since I left.” Even as she says that, her cheeks redden and her lips purse.
I’ll have to buy my new sister-in-law a thank-you card that says, ‘Sorry I called you a robot’ for managing to provoke out this side of my wife.
This shows that she cares, no matter how much she denies it.
She can fight me all she wants as long as she stays by my side.
I will make sure she never has a way out.
Not even one.
Divorce? I don’t believe in that fucking word when it comes to her.
“Why did you marry me, anyway?” she asks after a while. “You could’ve easily gotten yourself another bargain or partnership through marriage.”
“Because you asked me for it.”
She swallows thickly and her next word comes out as a whisper. “What?”
“You said, and I quote, ‘If I wanted to be your wife, would you make it happen?’ So I made it happen.”
“Even though you don’t believe in the institution?”
“I do now. And you know what? I’m still fucking enraged that you faked your death, but I’ll have no other wife but you.”
Her lips part, and slowly, too slowly, she lays her head on my shoulder.
Now, I’d like to point out that my cock is not amused at the prospect of having his promised round two sabotaged, but she’s been through a lot today, and I can allow her to sleep.
