Chapter Nineteen - Violet
When Kirill finally arrives at the penthouse, I can see the weight of the day’s work and frustration etched into his features. He takes a deep breath, collecting himself before stepping inside. The moment he walks in, our eyes lock, and I can tell he’s still irritated.
He walks over and sits opposite me, his gaze intense. “Alright, Violet. I’m here. What’s so important that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”
I take a deep breath, gathering my thoughts. This is important, and I need to make him understand why. “I need to do something about my position in the company,” I begin, trying to keep my voice steady despite the urgency I feel. “I need to remove Joe and take over.”
Kirill raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Go on.”
“Joe’s way of doing things is so different from my father’s,” I continue, leaning forward slightly. “He’s changing everything, making decisions that my father would never have agreed with. My father and Joe didn’t even get along that well when it came to business. Father wouldn’t have wanted this.”
I search his face for any sign of understanding, hoping he sees the gravity of the situation. “My father built that company from the ground up. He had a vision, and Joe is tearing it apart. I can’t let him do that. I’m more aligned with my father’s values and vision. I need to take control, but I can’t do it alone.”
Kirill nods, absorbing my words. There’s a moment of silence as he considers what I’ve said. “You want me to help you with this,” he states, his voice even.
“Yes,” I reply, my eyes pleading. “You promised to protect me, and this is part of that. I need your power and influence to sway the shareholders. They need to see that I’m capable, that I’m my father’s rightful successor.”
He leans back in his chair, considering my request. “What exactly do you need from me?”
“Your connections, your ability to influence people,” I explain. “You have the power to reach the major shareholders, to convince them that supporting me is in their best interest. You’re respected, even feared. They’ll take you seriously.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then nods slowly. “Alright. I’ll use my contacts to get to the major shareholders. You are my wife now, and that carries weight. They will take you seriously.”
Relief washes over me, mixed with gratitude. “Thank you, Kirill.”
He nods, a strange mix of satisfaction and responsibility in his expression. “I’ll set up meetings with key shareholders. We need to present a united front. Your vision for the company, combined with my backing, will make a strong case.”
I smile, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. “I know this won’t be easy, but with your help, I believe we can do it.”
“We will do it,” he assures me, his tone firm. “Joe’s influence needs to be dismantled carefully. We’ll gather evidence of his mismanagement, his divergence from your father’s vision. When the time is right, we’ll act.”
I nod, my eyes shining with determination. “I’ll start gathering information on Joe’s decisions, compiling everything that shows how he’s deviated from what my father would have wanted.”
Kirill watches me with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. “Good. We’ll work together on this. We have to be strategic. This isn’t just about removing Joe—it’s about ensuring that the shareholders see you as the rightful leader.”
I take a deep breath, my expression serious. “I understand. I’m ready to do whatever it takes.”
He nods, a newfound respect in his eyes. “We’ll start tomorrow. I’ll arrange the first meetings and get my contacts to support our move.”
As we finalize our plans, I notice a slight shift in the atmosphere. His eyes drift to my chest, and I realize that my pajamas are more revealing than I intended. The fabric clings to my curves, the neckline dipping low enough to show a tantalizing glimpse of skin. I can see his pulse quicken, his eyes darkening with an emotion that sends heat rushing to my cheeks.
I catch his gaze and look down, quickly pulling my robe tighter around myself. “Sorry,” I mutter, my voice tinged with embarrassment.
He clears his throat, trying to refocus. “It’s fine,” he says, his voice a bit rougher than usual. “We’ll continue this discussion tomorrow.”
I nod, still feeling slightly flustered. “Alright.”
As I get up and head to the kitchen to make a late dinner, I can feel his eyes on me, a mix of curiosity and something else that makes my skin tingle. I busy myself with the ingredients, trying to shake off the awkwardness.
“Look at you, already taking to the wife role so well,” Kirill jokes, his tone light but his eyes still intense.
I shoot him a playful glare over my shoulder. “Well, someone has to make sure we don’t starve, and I doubt you’re any good in the kitchen.”
He chuckles, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Touché, Malyshka. Touché.”
I find myself smiling back, the tension between us easing a bit. I open a bottle of wine and pour us both a glass. “Here,” I say, handing him one. “This should help us both relax.”
He takes the glass, his fingers brushing mine, sending a jolt of electricity up my arm. “Thank you.”
As I start cooking, the aroma of sautéed vegetables and spices filling the air, I feel myself beginning to relax. We’ve already slept together, so why am I so nervous? It’s a lot to take in, I remind myself. The marriage, the company, the threats—it’s overwhelming.
As we sip our wine and I move around the kitchen, I catch myself flirting back. “So, do you always make your wives cook for you, or am I special?”
Kirill leans against the counter, his eyes never leaving me. “You think I have more than one?”
“I don’t know,” I say, laughing softly, feeling the tension ebb away. “Well, I’ve always liked a challenge.”
“Good,” he says, his voice low and approving. “I can put that to the test.”
We continue talking and laughing as I finish preparing dinner. By the time I’m plating the food, I realize I’m actually enjoying his company. The wine has worked its magic, making everything seem a bit lighter, a bit easier.
We sit down to eat, the food warm and comforting. It’s just carbonara, but I watch his eyes light up. I watch Kirill take his first bite, his expression shifting to one of pleasant surprise. “This is really good,” he says, sounding almost shocked.
I smirk, feeling a small sense of victory. “Don’t sound so surprised. I do have some skills, you know.”
“I can see that,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Maybe I should let you cook more often.”
“There are some things I’m abysmal at, so don’t expect anything fancy,” I warn playfully, taking a sip of my wine. The evening has taken a surprisingly pleasant turn, and I find myself relaxing even more.
As we eat, the conversation flows easily, moving from business to lighter topics. I tell him about some of my favorite childhood memories, and he shares stories from his past. It’s strange, but for the first time, I feel like we’re connecting on a deeper level, beyond the forced circumstances of our marriage.
“So, what made you decide to take this path?” I ask, genuinely curious about the man who is now my husband.
Kirill pauses, considering his answer. “It wasn’t a choice, really. It was more of a necessity. Circumstances led me here, and once I was in, there was no turning back.”
I nod, understanding more than he might think. “Life has a way of doing that, doesn’t it? Pushing us in directions we never expected.”
He looks at me, a hint of respect in his eyes. “Yeah, it does. We adapt, we survive.”
We finish our meal, the comfortable silence between us filled with the soft clinking of cutlery and the occasional sip of wine. As I clear the plates, Kirill stands and helps, his presence beside me both comforting and thrilling.
“Thank you for dinner,” he says, his voice sincere. “It was… nice.”
I smile, feeling a warmth spread through me that has nothing to do with the wine. “You’re welcome. It was nice to unwind a bit.”
He steps closer, his hand brushing against mine as he takes a plate from me. “We should do this more often,” he suggests, his eyes meeting mine.
“Maybe we should,” I agree breathlessly.
He clears away the plates, and I pour us each another glass of wine. As I bend down to put something in the trash, I catch him staring at my ass. A small, knowing smile creeps onto my face. The wine has me feeling slightly tipsy, just enough to lean into the moment and put on a bit of a show. I sway my hips a little more than necessary as I straighten up, glancing over my shoulder to see if he’s noticed.
When I turn back around, his eyes are definitely on me, and there’s a heat in his gaze that sends a thrill through me. We move into the living room, and I can still feel his eyes on me. Is he really finding me that attractive, even in my pajamas?
He suggests a movie, his tone casual but his eyes still intense. “Would you like to watch something, or would you rather be alone?”
“A movie sounds nice,” I reply, my voice soft. I intentionally sit close to him on the couch, close enough that our legs almost touch. I want to see if he reacts, if he feels the same pull that I do.
He picks a movie, and as it starts, I can feel the electricity between us. His arm rests on the back of the couch, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin. I sip my wine, trying to focus on the screen, but all I can think about is the tension simmering between us.
The movie plays on, but I’m hardly paying attention. I shift slightly, my leg brushing against his. He doesn’t move away. Instead, his hand comes to rest lightly on my shoulder, his fingers tracing small circles on my skin. The touch has me trembling, making it hard to breathe.
We sit there, the movie a forgotten background noise as the air between us grows thick with anticipation. I glance up at him, and our eyes lock. There’s a moment of silent understanding, a shared recognition of the chemistry that’s been building all evening.
Without thinking, I lean into him, my head resting on his shoulder. He responds immediately, his arm wrapping around me, pulling me closer. The warmth of his body against mine is intoxicating, and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest.
He tilts his head down, his lips brushing against my hair. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends a thrill through me.
I look up at him, my breath catching in my throat. “Even in pajamas?” I ask, trying to sound teasing but failing to hide the vulnerability in my voice.
“Especially in pajamas,” he replies, his eyes dark with desire.
I can’t resist any longer. I shift up, closing the small distance between us, and press my lips to his. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, but quickly deepens as the need we’ve both been feeling takes over. His hand tangles in my hair, pulling me closer, and I respond by wrapping my arms around his neck.
The kiss intensifies, becoming more urgent. I lose myself in the sensation, the taste of him, the way his body feels against mine. When we finally pull back, we’re both breathing hard, our eyes locked in a heated gaze.
“Maybe we should watch movies together more often,” I whisper, my voice shaky with desire.
“As if you’re paying attention to the movie,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a satisfied smile.
The movie continues to play in the background, but our focus is solely on each other. I lean closer, our faces inches apart, and then his lips find mine again. This time, the kiss is more urgent, more demanding. His hand slides up my back, fingers brushing against the bare skin just beneath the hem of my shirt, sending shivers down my spine.
I respond by deepening the kiss, my fingers tangling in his hair as I press myself against him. The intensity between us builds, and I can feel the heat rising. Kirill’s hands are firm but gentle, exploring my curves as though he’s trying to memorize every inch of me.
He pulls away slightly, his breath hot against my skin. “You’ve had enough wine, Malyshka,” he says with a playful smirk, his voice husky with desire.
I finish the last of my glass, setting it down with a shaky laugh. “You’re right,” I admit, still breathless. “We should discuss the whole work thing.”
He chuckles, pulling back a little more, but his eyes are still dark with want. “Always so focused on business. Alright, let’s talk.”
I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart and shifting back to sit more comfortably on the couch. “I’m serious about wanting to overthrow Joe. He’s ruining everything my father built, and I can’t just stand by and watch.”
Kirill nods, his expression turning serious as well. “You’re committed to this. That’s good. You’ll need tougher skin. This won’t be easy.”
I meet his gaze, feeling a renewed sense of determination. “I’m ready for whatever it takes. I can handle it.”
Kirill scowls. “I don’t know that you can.”
His words strike a nerve, and I pull my hand away, glaring at him. “Are you saying I’m weak? That I can’t handle this on my own?”
Kirill’s expression hardens, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re too sensitive, Violet. This is exactly what I mean. You need to toughen up if you’re going to take on Joe.”
My anger flares, a hot rush of indignation coursing through me. “I am not weak, and I’m not too sensitive! Just because I don’t handle things the way you do doesn’t mean I can’t handle them at all.”
He leans closer, his presence overwhelming. “You need to learn to take criticism without falling apart. This isn’t just about you; it’s about the company, your father’s legacy. If you’re going to lead, you need to be stronger than this.”
I cross my arms over my chest, feeling a mix of hurt and fury. “I can be strong without being cold and heartless, Kirill. There’s more than one way to lead.”
He scoffs, shaking his head. “You think this is about being heartless? It’s about survival. If you show any weakness, Joe will exploit it. The shareholders will see it. You need to be impenetrable.”
His words cut deep, and I struggle to keep my composure. “I thought you were here to support me, not tear me down.”
“I am supporting you,” he retorts, his voice firm. “But you need to understand that this isn’t a game. It’s war. In war, there’s no room for sensitivity.”
I turn away, feeling a lump form in my throat. “I don’t need you to tell me how to feel, Kirill. I need you to believe in me.”
He stands up, towering over me. “I do believe in you, but you need to toughen up. This is exactly what I’m talking about. You can’t let every little thing get under your skin.”
His dominance is palpable, and I feel a surge of defiance. “You need to understand that strength comes in many forms. Just because I don’t act like you doesn’t mean I’m not capable.”
We stand there, the air thick with tension, neither of us willing to back down. There’s a part of me that wants to lash out, to make him see that I am strong, but another part that understands the brutal reality he’s trying to prepare me for.
Finally, I turn away, needing space to collect my thoughts.
“We’ll continue this discussion tomorrow,” he says, voice cold.
“No we won’t,” I say, turning back to face him. “We’ll take about it now, like adults.”
I see his face darken, and I wince.