Chapter 30
Cecilia
Two nights later, I sprawl my hand across Mikhail’s side of the bed, expecting his warm body but touching only cold sheets. When I roll over and crack my eyes open, he’s not here.
I get up on my elbows, picking my phone off the nightstand to check the time. It’s past midnight. Has he gone out again? He didn’t mention it before we went to sleep. I drape my legs over the mattress and walk to the window to peer outside. His car is still here.
A smile tucks itself under the curve of my lips, butterflies erupting low in my core.
Ever since that night when he asked me to sleep in his bed, things between us have been…
different. Not just because we’ve consummated our marriage, but because for the first time since meeting him, I feel like he’s letting me in, if only just a little.
He keeps giving me these glimpses of a man who feels more than he lets on.
I told him I was jealous, admitted it straight-up. I could tell he liked it, that he wanted to hear it again and again. And when he took me for the first time, God…it was perfect. He was sweet, and then he wasn’t, claiming me like he meant every single thrust.
Why do I want to please him so badly? What is it about this man that makes me want to be his?
Everything, a daring voice answers in my head.
Even now, when I know he’s probably downstairs doing something, I want to be near him, drawn by his energy like a moth to a flame. So, I go, picking up my cozy robe from the back of a chair and dressing in it on the way.
The house is dark and quiet at this hour, but I know the way now. The dark, the cold, and the foreign language have become my new normal. I used to walk around bundled in sweaters and blankets—now, I only need my nightgown and a thin robe.
When I reach the middle of the staircase, an odd sound stops me in my tracks.
What is that…?
The cool, smooth wood of the banister presses against my palm as I descend. At the bottom, there’s a faint murmur, like dry leaves skittering across stone. The air grows heavy, and with each step into the unlit foyer, a prickle of unease crawls across my skin.
And then—
There.
In front of the main door, a small shadow shifts back and forth. I grip the edges of my robe, tightening it around me, squinting. “Svetlana? Is that you?”
The noise stops, and the shadow’s movements halt. The person’s face rotates toward me, and relief courses through me as I recognize the eyes staring back.
“What’s going on?” I ask, crouching next to Victoria. “What are you doing here at this hour?”
“I woke you up, didn’t I? I’m so sorry,” she says, sniffing.
“No, you didn’t. Don’t worry about it. Hey, are you crying?
Look at me.” I pick her face up with my hands, and, sure enough, tears glimmer in her eyes.
My chest squeezes, and I understand Wolfgang deeply in this moment, because I want nothing more than to fix whatever is upsetting her. “What happened?”
“Just…stuff.” She smiles, swiping a hand under her eyes. “I’m fine. Just needed a good cry.”
“Victoria…” I rub her back gently. “Is everything alright with you and Wolfgang?”
“Oh, yes. Yes, he’s great. We’re great.”
“Then what is it? Come on, you know you can talk to me, right?”
She sniffs. “It’s just something I’m going through with my family.”
“Oh…” My lips form a thin line. I know close to nothing about Victoria’s upbringing, but it sounds like she wasn’t dealt the best cards in life either.
Another thing she and I have in common. “Well, it just so happens that I’m very good at listening.
Like, exceptionally good. Have I ever told you that? ”
She huffs out a small laugh then shakes her head, looking away.
“My sister and my mother. They…um…were supposed to visit for Christmas, since we haven’t seen each other in so long.
But something’s come up, as usual, and my sister has this party in Russia she wants to go to.
My mother said we can FaceTime instead. So, you know, I’m just a little. ..”
“Disappointed?”
“Yeah. That would be a good word.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “Bailing on you like that…”
She offers a small shrug. “It’s fine. I mean, I should have expected it. It’s not like we have the best relationship or anything. I kept trying and trying, but it’s just the way things are, and I need to accept it eventually. It just sucks they don’t seem to care about it like I do, you know?”
I nod. “I can relate to that, yeah. My father and I don’t have the best relationship either. It’s like I don’t even exist for him. Not since my mother died, anyway.”
“That must’ve been hard for you growing up. I’m sorry.”
It’s my turn to shrug. She doesn’t know the half of it, but this isn’t about me right now. It’s about her. “We can’t choose our families. But we can choose our friends, and that’s something,” I say, smiling.
“That’s something,” she echoes, returning my smile. A second of silence passes, and then she sighs, looking down at the object she’s been holding in her other hand.
“Is that…a shoe?” I ask. “What were you doing here?”
“I guess I was polishing it.” She chuckles. “I needed to do something to take my mind off all that, and this was the only thing I could think of.”
I tilt my head. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed. It’s late.”
“You go ahead,” she says. “I want to finish up, and then I’ll go. Oh, don’t give me that look! You’ll thank me in the morning when your boots look spotless. I’ll be fine…I promise.”
I open my mouth to protest, but I decide not to. Ms. Donatello always used to say that moving your body is better than letting your thoughts move inside your head. If Victoria wants to polish shoes to keep herself from ruminating, it’s probably not a bad idea.
“Fine. I’ll let you off the hook for now. But tomorrow—”
“Yes. We’re still on for that movie, and then we’ll talk.
Pinky swear,” she says. Hesitantly, I get up, and before I walk away, she says, “Hey, do me a favor? Don’t mention this to Wolfgang, please.
If he hears I’ve been crying, he’ll drag Anya and my mother here with a gun to their heads if he has to.
I’d hate for them to visit just because they feel obligated, you know? ”
“Don’t worry about it. My lips are sealed.”
“Thanks, Cecilia,” she says, and then the sound of a brush wiping leather resumes.
I move away slowly, in case she’s not really fine, but she seems focused and determined.
I let out a sigh. What kind of mother doesn’t want to see her daughter on Christmas Day?
The sadness in Victoria’s slumped shoulders is simply unfair.
She’s such a sweet person, and to think her family is treating her this way…
Lost in thought, I peer out into the living room, even though I told myself I’d just go back to bed and stop looking for Mikhail. He’s not here. Maybe he’s in his office. Or the pool. Or anywhere else—this place is literally massive. There’s a chance we’d miss each other if I went looking for him.
God—when did I become so clingy? I can’t be like that. What would he think of me then? I’d drive him away, just like I drove away my father. The more I asked for him when I was little, the more he started working late. What if I do the same thing to my marriage?
I shake my head, the wood under my feet creaking with each step, the sound of Victoria brushing shoes fading in the background.
The moon is out tonight, casting shadows around the windows and chasing me as I walk back upstairs.
This behemoth house can be eerily quiet with just us four and the staff in it, especially at this hour, when everyone else is sleeping.
Where did my husband disappear to all of a sudden?
Just as I finish forming the question in my mind, a low whistle threads between my heartbeats, long and dragged across the hallway, stopping me in my tracks. I don’t turn immediately, but I smile. Because, like always, I didn’t have to find him. He found me.
Mikhail
I lean against my desk, my arms crossed at my chest and my eyes on the door. Like a moth to a flame, I pull my wife into my office with nothing but the low whistle she recognizes too well. It’s how I used to haunt her. Of course she remembers.
Earlier, when she went out looking for me through the house, I heard her, and I laughed to myself.
I fucking love how needy she’s become since I first touched her.
I was counting on it, in fact. Every single day, I’m working her up a little more, until eventually, she’ll tug on my sleeve, begging me to use her sweet pussy—anywhere, anytime, whether in public or in our home in the middle of the night.
Tonight is as close as we’ve gotten, seeing as she sought me out. But my girl is still too shy to tell me what her body needs. For now.
The door to my office cracks open, and her gorgeous head pops in, lighting on my figure.
Her brows shoot up, and a smile blooms on her face.
My cock swells almost immediately. I’ve barely been inside her once, barely touched that cunt a few times over the past few days.
I didn’t want to overwhelm her with how much I needed her.
But tonight, that ends. I can’t fucking function with all this pent up sexual energy roiling and revolting inside me—couldn’t even sleep.
It craves her too much, so I’m done delaying the inevitable.
“Here you are,” she chirps, opening the door fully and stepping in.
Here I am, Lastochka. Come closer.
“I woke up, and you weren’t there, so I—” She sucks in a breath. “Is that...rope you’re holding?”
I push my hips into the desk to stop leaning against it and slowly take the remaining steps toward her. Her head tilts back at my height, but I go behind her, wrapping the rope loosely around her neck like jewelry. Her breathing resumes, a little faster now, her hand shooting up to touch it.