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Chapter 7
Ana
“No! No, I don’t want to! You can’t make me, I’ll hate you forever!”
I cross my arms and stare down at Asili, who’s wrapped in a thick bathrobe and has thrown himself across the deep blue carpet that runs down the hallway outside his room, screaming his defiance about bedtime.
“Asili, honey, it’s late. You have to go to sleep.”
“I don’t have to! I don’t want to!”
He seems a little old to be having as many temper tantrums as he does, but I sense a lot of anger in the kid. If his home environment has been as unstable as I suspect, with no mother figure, many nannies coming and going frequently, and a father who seems to care, but is always busy, then I’m not all that surprised by it.
I remember Elena used to be like this, too. When mom first had to start working double shifts, Elena began having the biggest hissy fits you could possibly imagine, and Mom—who probably realized Elena was just out of sorts and getting used to the change—would simply let her get all the emotions out of her system before trying to move forward. I remember Mari and I, who were mild children in comparison, would watch from around the corner until Elena eventually calmed down and it was safe for us to emerge without getting caught in the crossfire.
So now I’m taking my mom’s tactic and simply waiting Asili out, while fat tears leak from his scrunched eyes. “It’s not fair! I’m not even tired!”
Mr. Tzelik chooses that moment to poke his head out from his own bedroom down the hall. “Is everything alright down there?”
Asili’s wails only intensify when he hears his father’s voice, although my own words get caught in my throat when I look up.
A broad, naked white chest hits me square in the face, figuratively speaking, and I choke on the air as I stare.
Ladies and gentlemen, the president of Zvezden is stacked.
Despite my best efforts, my eyes drag down a chiseled expanse of muscled chest, defined abs, and a pair of soft black slacks hanging low over narrow hips. There’s a puffy navy towel slung over his shoulder covering his heart, and the muscles in his biceps contract as he lifts a hand to push back his damp silver hair. “Asili, what is this racket for?”
I just manage to suppress a little whimper and rip my eyes away from him. “Uh, no…yes, everything’s fine, sir. He’s just tired.”
“I’m not! I’m not tired, I don’t wanna go to bed!”
My eyes flick back up towards the president just quickly enough to catch the way his eyebrows draw slightly together before I dart my gaze towards literally anything else. “Really, Miss Martin, do you think you should be encouraging this behavior?”
I clear my throat and try valiantly to stop the heat in my cheeks from spreading. “He’s had a big day, sir, and he’s done really well. He just needs to let it all out, he’ll be alright in a few minutes. Won’t you, Asili?”
“I’m…n-not tired…”
I dare another quick look back towards Mr. Tzelik, who is staring at me steadily with a considering look in his face. He opens his mouth to say something, but then his brows draw a touch closer and he nods.
“Alright,” he says, “if you say so.” And then he disappears back into his room.
I let out a rough breath, running slightly shaky fingers through my hair.
Damn.
Who would have known the freaking dictator of Zvezden would be so strong and broad and…and defined beneath his pompous uniform?
Holy hot. Elena would probably have a heart attack if she knew what I’d just witnessed.
Suppressing the sudden spike of guilt that pricks through me—I still haven’t called her back since all this happened—I shake my head and turn my attention forcefully towards Asili. He continues to cry for a few more minutes before eventually, his sobs taper into hiccupping sniffles, and I crouch down beside him.
“Hey, buddy,” I murmur, “d’you think we should go to your room and get you into your pajamas now?”
He crosses his arms over his chest and remains lying on the floor. “Why don’t you just dr-drag me in there like everyone else always d-does?” he says, still fighting his sniffles.
I raise my eyebrows. “Is that what you want me to do?”
“N-no…”
