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“Fuck.” Ruslan pushes to his feet. “That sucks. I was hoping—”
“Me too.”
I exit the office and head back to the bedroom cabin where I left Alina. Over the years, I’ve consulted numerous doctors about her condition, but there was only so much they could tell me without seeing the actual patient and running a bunch of tests—even though I sent them every medical record of hers I could access. Those records were surprisingly sparse. She only saw a couple of different doctors about her migraines early on, and that was mostly to get the painkillers that all but knock her out.
It’s like she doesn’t care about getting better.
But I care. I want her healthy and well, and I’ll do whatever it takes to accomplish that. The bottle of pills in my hand is the strongest migraine medicine on the market, given to me by the top neurologist in Moscow. When we get home, I’ll take her to him for a thorough evaluation, but in the meantime, this should stave off the worst of the pain. I don’t think she’s tried this medicine before—at least it was never officially prescribed to her, according to her records. And, of course, there’s always Vika.
Speaking of whom, I hear the quick patter of my chef’s feet and turn to see her hurrying down the hallway toward me, a big black briefcase-style bag in her hands.
“You ready?” I ask, and she nods, her dark eyes serious.
“Okay. Let’s go in.”
I open the door to the cabin and walk in with Vika on my heels. Alina is on the bed, dressed in one of her sleep peignoirs and with a wet towel over her forehead. I curse myself for not providing her with the latter before I left. It’s a mistake I won’t make again.
I cross the room and set the pills and the bottle of water on the nightstand before perching on the edge of the bed next to my wife. “Already that bad?” I ask softly, keeping my voice low and soothing. I know from personal experience that noises and headaches don’t mix—though mine have never been as debilitating as hers.
Alina gives a small, jerky nod, her lips pressed into a tight line, and I snap my fingers at Vika, who’s walking around the cabin and pulling down the window shades to block out the remaining rays of the early evening sun. She hurries over as I shake out two pills onto my palm.
“Swallow these,” I tell Alina as I remove the towel and loop my arm around her slender back to gently lift her to a half-sitting position.
She blinks up at me owlishly. “What are they?”
“Migraine meds. Open up.”
She hesitates, but then she must decide to trust me. Obediently, she opens her mouth, and I place the pills onto her tongue before handing her the bottle of water. Once she’s swallowed them, I lower her back onto her pillow and turn around to look at Vika, who’s already got her bag open and her needles spread out at the foot of the bed.
“What is that?” Alina asks warily, pushing up onto her elbow to follow my gaze.
“Vika was a doctor of acupuncture in her former life,” I say. “She thinks she can help your migraines.”
“I trained with the best practitioners in China,” Vika says softly, coming to stand next to me with a few needles in hand. “If you will allow me…”
Alina glances at me uncertainly. “I guess…”
“Let her try,” I say. “It won’t hurt.”
I’m not a believer in meridians, chi, and all that crap, but Vika’s needles have done wonders for my tension headaches and some of my men’s old injuries. I’ll never know how much of that is the placebo effect, but the way I see it, if it works, it works.
“Lie back and relax,” Vika urges. “You won’t even feel it, I promise.”
Alina looks skeptical but obeys, and Vika goes to work. Within minutes, my wife looks like a pincushion—a gorgeous one, but still a pincushion. My chest tightens as I watch her grimace from what must be a particularly strong stab of pain in her head, and I clasp her hand in mine, stroking the inside of her wrist with my thumb to distract her. I wish I could do more. I wish I were the one lying there hurting instead of her. If only—
“There,” Vika murmurs, stepping back. “Now give it a few minutes. Don’t move, okay?”
“Okay,” Alina mumbles, closing her eyes, and I feel a slight easing of the tension in her hand as I continue stroking her wrist. “Just come back to remove them soon, please.”
“Yes, of course.”
With a few quick steps, Vika is gone, carefully closing the door behind her.
Chapter 15
Alina
It happens slowly, gradually, and then seemingly all at once. The nausea disappears, and the violent drumming in my skull eases, the stabbing pain fading to a low throb of tension in my temples. And the entire time, I feel his touch: his hand, so big and warm, the rough, callused edge of his thumb rubbing circles over my wrist, soothing and relaxing me, somehow pulling the pain away.
