Chapter 15 Catarina
Chapter fifteen
Catarina
I breathe in deep, and then roll over, extending my hand across Matysh’s bed. My fingers slide across cold sheets, and the divot in the mattress where the massive man should be is empty…
I let out a sigh. I’m not surprised.
Last night’s sex might’ve felt different in some capacity, and Matysh might be softening up toward me a fraction, but there’s still no reason for me to expect him to be in the bed when I open my eyes.
This isn’t some fairy tale. At best, all Matysh is ever going to look at me as is his.
I run my fingers across my abdomen, stopping over my stomach. I know there’s a baby there. I know it’s his, and that is the only reason I have any worth to him.
“But I will still always protect you,” I whisper, my hands resting on the bump that isn’t fully there yet. It will be, eventually.
But I haven’t even made it to the eight-week mark for my first real appointment.
My eyes shift to the window, and through the sheer curtain, I can see the snow falling outside. It’s Christmas Eve, and if I was a part of a normal marriage, maybe that would mean I’d be spending it with my new husband, starting new traditions for our soon-to-be family of three.
But instead, I’m sure he’s off handling business—by whatever bloody means necessary.
I think I’d rather be poor. I blow out a breath and then flip the covers back, shivering at the chill that runs up my bare legs. I rub my fingers over my arms and then rush for the thick black robe of Matysh’s. I slide my arms into it, breathing in the familiar scent of him.
I don’t even remember what Mikhail smelled like. The intrusive thought causes my throat to tighten, and I try to push it away. I can’t deny that something is shifting in me when it comes to Matysh.
But I don’t love him, I remind myself. And I’ll continue to remind myself of that. I won’t let myself love a man who only sees me as a possession—no matter how great he thinks that possession is.
He’s still a monster.
“Which is why I’ll start my own Christmas traditions for us,” I murmur, my hand falling back on my stomach as I slide my feet into a pair of my slippers.
I head down the hallway to the kitchen, my hair pulled up in a messy bun. I rub my eyes as I step in to see a full-blown Christmas Eve themed breakfast, complete with green and red pancakes and peppermint hot chocolate.
It’s over the top. But actually… I like it.
“Boss is gone for business this morning,” Helena says as she takes a seat across from me at the table, eyeing me sheepishly. “But I thought maybe you would like to spend Christmas Eve with us.”
I fork a bite of my pancake, eyeing her. “I guess that would be okay…”
Her smile widens. “We can watch Christmas movies, at least until Boss returns.”
I exhale, twisting my wedding ring on my finger. “Sure.” Maybe this is how Christmas is going to be from now on.
It is what it is.
I spend the next two hours sitting through Elf with Helena, laughing and trying to forget the situation I’m in. However, there’s something about the love story I see playing out between Will Ferrell and Zooey Deschanel that gets underneath my skin.
No matter how cheesy it is.
As soon as the credits roll, I turn to Helena. “I think I’m going to spend some time alone. I know it’s cold, but maybe I could go for a walk in the garden? You have eyes on me all the time, so…”
Helena frowns, brushing some of her dark hair from her face. “You have to have someone accompany you outside of the premises.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing the tears to remain behind my lids. “Okay.” Maybe it’s just the hormones, but it sure as hell feels like a lot more than that to me.
“I’ll see if Bogdin is available.” Helena pushes herself to stand from the couch, and I do the same, slipping off to change into my clothes and grab my coat, gloves, and scarf. It’s freezing outside, but something about being stuck in the house is too suffocating to ignore.
As I return to the living room, Matysh’s right-hand man stands in the foyer, waiting.
“Ready?” he asks, his Russian accent thick.
“Sure,” I mutter, zipping up my coat. I adjust my scarf and flip my hood up, my blonde hair still spilling out past my shoulders. “Let’s just go.”
“I will hang back so you can have your personal time,” he chuckles as he opens the door for me, and I ignore it. I already know how this works. My father’s men never left me alone when I was growing up.
I couldn’t even walk around my house without them posted up everywhere.
I wrap my arms around myself as I step out into the garden, the cold winds and light flurries slapping my cheek. I shiver beneath the down coat but follow the path to the gazebo that overlooks a small pond.
Bogdin follows along behind me, giving me space…
But not too much.
I roll my eyes, and pause to look at the rose bush, a dark red flower painted with white flakes. I brush the snow using my black leather insulated gloves and let out a sigh.
And that’s when I hear it. A bang. Right on top of us.
“What the hell?” I spin around to see Bogdin, clutching his neck as crimson spurts from his wound, littering the ground around him.
Another boom goes off, and this time I jerk sideways as another round penetrates his head, exploding out in a gory mess.
I gasp, my hand flying up to cover my mouth as I stumble backward. I choke back the tears as my instincts seem to delay taking over.
Bogdin’s phone pierces the late morning air, as his body hits the ground with a violent thud, and I fight the urge to run to him, even though I know his wounds aren’t survivable.
I take a step back, and as I do, I bump into a hard chest.
“Gotcha,” a deep voice mumbles.
But before I can scream, everything goes dark.