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Not for duty. Not for family. Not for revenge.

Just someone for me.

I get a bit too excited for our morning routine, which is to basically exercise together. I’ve managed to punch him a few times, but those are few and far between.

He doesn’t shy away from taking me down whenever he has the chance.

I come down the stairs in my workout clothes. Today, I decided to wear only a sports bra and my tight shorts that have one of those seams to define my ass.

Not that I’m trying to seduce him or anything. Okay, maybe a little.

I bought them the other day when we went shopping in the nearest town—which is an hour’s walk away.

It’s about two weeks until Christmas, so the entire town was buzzing with lights, decorations, and excitement. My heart hurt at the reminder of last Christmas, which I didn’t get the chance to celebrate. However, I loved seeing people happy.

Kirill, on the other hand, was not impressed and kept judging the whole joyful atmosphere like a grinch.

Since we were carrying a lot of bags, we had to hitch a ride on a farmer’s truck on the way back. The driver might have checked me out for a second too long and I had to stop Kirill from putting a bullet in the poor man’s head.

Back to the present. Usually, he wakes me up with the flowers of the day, but today, he didn’t. Though I did wake up a bit earlier than usual.

I pause when I reach the bottom of the stairs. Fresh flowers sit prettily in a vase on the dining table.

So he did come back.

I sniff them, then take a picture of them and a selfie while holding them and send it to Karina.

Sasha: My flowers for the day.

She replies right away.

Karina: Ugh. He’s doing all the right things to keep you away from me. I’m gonna stab him to death next time I see him.

I smile as I type back my reply.

Sasha: We’ll come back eventually. We can’t exactly stay here forever.

Karina: Bet you want to, though.

If I were sure my brother would be released and wouldn’t start any trouble, yes. But right now, the situation just feels like a disaster waiting to happen.

The calm before the storm.

The good thing is that there’s no torture. When we visited them again a few days ago, Anton and Maksim were just glaring at each other from opposite ends of the room.

Sasha: Don’t be silly. Of course I want to come back.

Karina: Please do. I miss you! Not Kirill, though.

I shake my head.

I swear this family can’t survive without a display of tough love. They should get an award in the art.

After taking a few more pictures of the flowers, I leave them and my phone on the table and head outside.

My steps come to a halt when I find another man who’s not Kirill standing in the garden.

“Viktor?”

The mountain of a man turns around, raises a brow, probably not used to me dressing this way, before he schools his expression and nods. “Mrs. Morozova.”

I tap his shoulder teasingly. “What’s with being polite all of a sudden? Call me Sasha, or Aleksandra since you’re allergic to the diminutive form.”

“You’re the boss’s wife. I’ll call you by your official title.”

I roll my eyes. “You call him Kirill when you’re mad at him.”

“I’ll call you by your name when I’m mad at you.”

Jeez. He’s an unbending asshole.

And yet I’ve always felt that Kirill is safe as long as Viktor is there. And while I hated that he could probably protect him better than I could, I’m glad Viktor wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

“Where is he?” I search around him as if a six-three muscled man is some sort of a needle in a haystack that can’t be spotted right away.

“He’s checking something.”

“What’s the something?”

He raises a brow. “I’m under no obligation to report his actions to you.”

“You’re really an asshole, did you know that? It wouldn’t hurt anyone if you just answered the question.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

I cross my arms and stand taller, which is a bit pointless since Viktor is way bigger in height and build. “You have a problem with me?”

“My,” he says in a robotic, deadpan tone. “What makes you think that? The fact that you’ve been spying on him? Or how you nearly got him killed in Russia? Or maybe, just maybe, the fact that you’re doing it all over again now?”

I briefly close my eyes. “The Russia incident wasn’t intentional and if I‘d wanted him dead, I would’ve killed him when I came back.”

“So you just shot him in the arm?”

My lips part. “Did he tell you that?”

“No. He said that one of the soldiers got him, but I suspected that wasn’t the case. He wouldn’t let himself be shot that easily unless it was either someone he was close to or he allowed it. Now, I’ve confirmed that it was you.”

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