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Hearing his order tightens my chest. Honestly, I would rather not see him. It would almost be better for me to go through the next few months without him in my life. But I need to know when I can see my family and friends. And when I can leave.
“Okay, I’ll be down in ten minutes.”
“Perfect. I’ll make some more coffee.”
“Thank you.”
She leaves, and I get ready quickly, keeping my hair in a messy bun.
I head downstairs. When I approach the dining room, I see Malik inside.
He’s sitting at the head of the table looking handsome as ever, dressed in a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. His hair looks slightly longer, and he’s allowed his beard to grow a little fuller. It gives him a rugged yet sophisticated appearance.
I walk up to the door, and a weight settles in the pit of my stomach when I realize he’s talking to Kelly.
The two are actually engrossed in a deep conversation which I can’t understand because surprise, surprise, they’re speaking in Russian. Again.
It takes nanoseconds for me to conjure the memory of how she was with him last night. Her hugging him and running her fingers through his hair.
Her taking him, the man who is supposed to be my husband, into the guestroom.
At least Malik looks at me and breaks the conversation to acknowledge my presence.
“Good morning,” he says.
“Hello.” My tone is stiff and he can tell I’m pissed as fuck.
I make a point of sitting next to him in an attempt to get Kelly to take a hint and leave us, but she drags Malik back into the conversation.
Jeanne comes in with coffee, pours me some, and glances at them talking.
Even she looks uneasy, but she doesn’t say anything. I don’t expect her to because she’s not confrontational and wouldn’t do anything that would make her seem rude. Definitely not to her beloved employer.
When she leaves, it doesn’t surprise me.
Ignoring the coffee, I stare at Kelly and Malik until Kelly looks at me. It takes her a moment to figure out that I’m not impressed with her talking the way she is to my husband. I’m not impressed with him either.
“Oh, sorry, we tend to get carried away when we’re together,” Kelly bubbles as if the mere apology—as genuine as it seems—will suffice in absolving her.
“My goodness, you can actuallyseeme sitting here. I totally thought I was invisible.” I blink several times, amplifying my sarcasm. I don’t care how I look. I’m sick of this shit.
Kelly looks stunned by my outburst. “I’m… sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you in any way.” Her words come out in an uncertain quiver. She looks caught off-guard. I should probably give her a break, but given my suspicion that she slept with my husband last night, I don’t care.
“I find that really hard to believe,” I throw back.
“No, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Okay, apology accepted.” I intensify my gaze. “But just so you know, where I come from, it’s considered rude and completely disrespectful to be so deep in conversation with another woman’s husband when she’s sitting right here. It’s even worse that I don’t know what the fuck you’re saying to him.”
“That is enough,” Malik cuts in, giving me a hard stare.
“No, it’s not enough.” My brows snap together and I curl my hand into a tight fist. “The two of you do this all the damn time.”
“I said enough.” His voice is harder, harsher. “Kelly, please leave us and lock the door behind you. It seems my wife and I have matters to discuss.”
“Yes, sir.” She bows her head respectfully.
I’ve never heard her call him sir before.
