Chapter 28 Anika
ANIKA
“No really, you should have seen them,” Sandro insists as Gio and I burst into laughter at the dinner table. “I mean, it took the lightest push. All I said was that Viktor should be the next Pakhan, and Gleb lost his ever-loving mind. Their knives were out before I slipped back into the crowd.”
“And they had no idea it was you?” Gio asks through snorts of amusement.
“Gleb never was one of Pyotr’s brightest captains,” I confirm, covering my mouth with my fingers as I try not to spit out my dessert in my amusement.
“Nice to know the Russians are as disorganized as ever,” Raf observes dryly as Miko cocks an amused eyebrow in my direction.
The subtle communication sets butterflies fluttering in my stomach, and my cheeks warm as I suddenly feel shy.
That’s been happening to me a lot more in the week since my ugly mental breakdown.
Miko’s attention feels all the more meaningful now, the slightest glance lighting my body on fire, and I can’t seem to rein in my physical response to him.
Even the quickest glance makes me yearn for his touch.
It doesn’t help that my dreams are getting increasingly more graphic—and sexual in nature—as if they’re trying to make up for the lack of intimacy we’ve shared since that night.
In our everyday interactions, Miko and I seem to have hit a new stride. Our communication is at an all-time high, and I’m starting to trust him in ways I never thought possible.
But our sex life has come to a grinding halt. Miko’s more than happy to kiss and snuggle me, but he’s been reluctant to take it any further, and I know it’s because of what happened—because he doesn’t want to hurt me by triggering another flashback.
Still, I’m determined not to give up. Sex with Miko was one of my favorite things about being married to him, so I’ve come up with a plan. And tonight, after dinner, I’m going to put it into action.
“The sympathy we’ve garnered has strengthened our Italian alliances better than we could have imagined,” Miko adds, turning his attention back to the discussion at hand. “But we still don’t have the numbers we need to move against the Yakuza on our own.”
Raf shakes his head. “Not without the Irish.”
“And they don’t sound too keen on going against the Murrays—even if they disagree with Callum,” Sandro says.
“Which means we’re officially at a standstill,” Miko states.
I feel a twinge of sympathy for the brothers.
It seems that their plans for revenge will be in gridlock until they can recruit more fighters—but from what I’ve gathered, they’ve looked under every rock and in every hole searching for alliances.
I’m grateful that at least they all feel comfortable talking about it in front of me now.
Perhaps that’s just because they now know I can understand them in both English and Italian. But they could easily choose not to talk about it at dinner if they didn’t want me to know, so I take it as a sign of trust that makes me feel warm with acceptance.
“What do you think, Anika?” Gio asks, catching me by surprise. “Any brilliant alliances we haven’t thought of yet?”
I freeze, stunned that he would not only include me in the conversation but ask for my opinion. “Oh, um. Well, I don’t know. I mean, have you considered sending the injured men from Valentin’s raid to see if they can convince any of the Russian factions to join you?”
“I like the way you think,” Raf says, a twinkle in his gaze.
Gio rolls his eyes and leans closer to me to stage whisper conspiratorially. “That’s because he suggested the same thing.”
“Oh, of course,” I say, blushing as I realize it might be rather obvious.
“It’s a good suggestion,” Miko says warmly, taking my hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
My heart promptly bursts into a frenzy, roaring past my ears and sending blood flooding to my core.
“We tried that,” he explains gently. “Unfortunately, the man who volunteered to deliver the offer was sent back with a very clear message that the Bratva would consider an alliance with us the ultimate betrayal. They don’t intend to support a Chiaroscuro returning to power.”
“A clear message, meaning…”
“They sent the man’s head back in a box,” Sandro says flatly.
I swallow hard. “Right. Got it.”
“Alright, well, now that you’ve made my wife lose her appetite…” Miko scowls at his brother before turning his attention back to me. “Anika, shall we head up?”
“Yeah,” I agree, the response coming out breathless as a shot of nerves blasts through me.
Miko gives me a curious look, then takes my hand to lead me from the dining room as I wish his brothers a good night.
Electricity crackles between our palms as he interlaces our fingers, scattering my thoughts.
It’s silent as we climb the stairs together, and in the momentary hush, I scramble to get my head back together.
“Something on your mind?” Miko asks as he opens the door to our room and follows me inside.
“Hmm? No,” I say too quickly, immediately arousing his suspicion.
“Anika,” he says, his voice holding that hint of warning that sends a shiver down my spine.
The door shuts softly behind him, and my pulse jumps as I turn to face him, my cheeks warming once more.
Miko’s eyebrows press together, emotion flitting across his face before it settles into genuine concern. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” he says softly, his deep voice hypnotic as he takes a slow step toward me like he thinks one wrong move might make me bolt.
Christ, I’ve done a number on him, haven’t I?
My stomach tightens with guilt, especially when I know what it is I want to talk to him about. “Okay,” I breathe, “I do have something on my mind,” I whisper, glancing toward the bed. “Do you… want to sit down?”
His expression darkens, his brow furrowing, but he does as I suggest, making the edge of the mattress drop a solid six inches before he rests his elbows on his knees and interlaces his fingers to hear me out.
The tension is almost palpable as I come to stand before him, but my nerves are in such a jumble, I can’t bring myself to sit.
Instead, I pace in front of him, picking nervously at my fingernails as I work up the courage to speak.
“You’re trying to tell me that things aren’t working between us,” he guesses, his voice flat and emotionless.
I stop, spinning in my tracks to gape at him. “How did you…? What makes you think that?” I ask, suddenly anxious that he feels things aren’t working—and maybe that’s why he hasn’t wanted to have sex.
Sighing heavily, Miko drops his head into his hands and scrubs his scalp. Then, with a look of resignation, he levels me with his eyes. “I know things haven’t been going well. I can see you’re unhappy. I just… I don’t know what to do, Anika. I don’t know how to fix it.”
I gawk openly at him, my jaw hanging loose as he sends my mind reeling. “You think—I’m unhappy,” I say, mulling over his words. I suppose he’s not wrong. But I get the feeling he means it in an entirely different way.
Dropping his gaze to his interlocked fingers, he nods. “I get it. It’s not always so easy to forgive as we might hope,” he says.
“Forgive… Miko, what are you talking about?” I ask, genuinely confused now.
His blue eyes snap up to meet mine. “You’ve had time to think about it now. You gave me a position of trust, and I never should have pushed things so far.”
“When…?”
“The night of your flashback!” he insists, his voice rising in distress and making me flinch.
His jaw clenches, his eyes igniting in frustration, and he closes them—closing me out as he seems to rein himself in with effort.
“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I shouldn’t have yelled.
I’m just—” He swallows hard. “I thought I had more time.”
“Miko, you’re not making any sense. Time for what?” I ask, stepping closer to comb my fingers into his perfectly tousled, thick black curls.
He tips his chin up, his expression pained as he grasps my hips gently, pulling me closer so his chin rests on my belly. “More time to make it right.”
My heart twinges, tears pricking my eyes at the remorse in his tone. He’s still beating himself up about what happened. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t touched me. He no longer trusts himself.
“I told you before, you have nothing to make right. Neither of us knew that might happen. Now we do,” I say matter-of-factly, trying to ease his guilt.
“But you’re right. I am unhappy. Our sex life has been a highlight of my new life with you, and I don’t think it’s fair that you keep depriving me of it,” I scold.
“But—”
“Nope,” I cut in, placing a finger over his lips to stop his objection. “You said I could tell you anything,” I point out.
Miko’s eyes warm, and his hand skates lightly up my hip to capture the back of my hand against his mouth.
He brushes a kiss to my silencing finger, then opens my hand to kiss my palm.
The gesture sends pleasure zinging up my arm, and I press my suddenly weak knees together. I really need to get a hold of myself.
“You can tell me anything,” he assures me. “I just don’t think sex is a good idea when it could drag you back into the nightmares you’re clearly still trying to heal from.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, feeling like the conversation keeps taking unexpected left-hand turns.
“You’ve been tossing and turning in your sleep a lot since that night. Moaning.” His voice sounds haunted, and I blush as I realize the misunderstanding.
“Miko, I’ve been dreaming about you,” I say pointedly. “About… the things I want you to do to me.” My eyes flick down to his lips, my heartbeat quickening, and I brush the pads of my fingers softly across them, aching to feel them between my thighs again.
“Oh,” he says, recognition dawning in his eyes.
“Yeah, oh,” I murmur, leaning into him as his arms wrap more snuggly around my hips. “So, I’ve been thinking. To avoid any unpleasant flashbacks, what if I tie you to the bed?”
One of Miko’s eyebrows slowly creeps up his forehead, his lips curving into a smile. “Oh?”