Chapter 16 #2
What would I have done instead when I found him with Anya the night of our wedding? I wouldn’t have been able to fake my smiles during the cake cutting. I wouldn’t have been able to prepare. I might have even gone home with my family and put their plan to whisk me away to work.
Kirill studied me intently before he picked out a curl that was trapped behind my ear and let it hang loose. “Irina asked me when are we going to have kids.”
I closed my eyes and groaned. “She asked me again this morning.”
“She informed me I wasn’t going to get you pregnant if we don’t sleep in the same room.”
“I’m not even surprised she knows, but did you tell her—”
“That I didn’t want to disturb your sleep because I work into the early morning.”
“Well, yeah, that’s reasonable,” I croaked.
“For three months?” He arched a brow. “Some might think there’s a problem with my equipment.”
“I’m sure someone else can vouch that it’s working.” I couldn’t help the derision that crept into my voice.
“But not my wife?”
“Your wife took a vow of abstinence.”
Kirill chuckled briefly. “You’re really going to hang fast to that, aren’t you?”
“You’re the one who told me I have no say in who you fuck.”
His eyes gleamed. “I was pissed that night. We both were.”
“Because I caught you in your lie.” I glanced longingly at the door.
“Oh no, no.” His fingers gently but firmly guided my face back to him. “We’re not avoiding this conversation.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. The second you fucked another woman after we said our vows, I was done. I don’t forgive cheaters.”
His jaw worked convulsively. “But that’s the thing. I never cheated. I haven’t slept with Anya in ten years, since she married Davenport. I take wedding vows seriously, even if others don’t.”
“Then why did you imply you were going to cheat?”
Kirill stood abruptly and scowled at me. “Because…like you said…I lie.” He slid his hand to the small of my back. “Come on, before Irina sends out a search party.”
Ugh, Kirill and his mindfuckery. So if he admitted he had lied, how would I know he was telling the truth now?
That was the problem. Trust. I could never trust him.
Still, in the corner of my heart, a simmering resentment eased a little.
My gut instinct was telling me he was truthful about not cheating.
The abruptness with which he changed the subject told me he was still conflicted about retracting his statement about fucking other people.
He didn’t want to explain himself, which meant that what he admitted made him feel vulnerable.
And to a stoic man like Kirill, he didn’t do vulnerable.
After he’d ignored me in the beginning of our marriage, he’d been slowly sticking to my side for extended periods under the pretense that I was his lady luck.
I could tell Kirill was enjoying my misery.
Asshole.
And now, we were heading into the dining room like a couple. He transferred his hand from the small of my back to clasp my fingers. His grip tightened warningly when I tried to pry my hand free, and I only gave in because Ivan was watching us thoughtfully while Irina was beaming. Urgh…
We always arrived separately at family parties.
He had never sought me out like he did today.
And when we crossed paths, he’d give me a cold peck on the cheek and that was that.
He would mostly ignore me over dinner other than to remind me of an event we needed to attend.
His family continued to be sympathetic to the scorned me, and boy did I eat that up to use against Kirill.
His plan to humiliate me backfired. He’d definitely cottoned on that his presence was the one ruining my day.
I was at a loss of what to do next.
He lowered his head and whispered, “Smile, sweetheart.”
Oh, that “sweetheart” dripped with vinegar.
I tilted up my chin to smile at him and snarled through my teeth. “Like this?”
He seemed amused. “Just like that.”
There were more bratva than our usual family dinner. The chatter at least was a welcome diversion that prevented any meaningful conversation with my husband. The focus was on Kolya, anyway. And boy, every time the bratva’s enforcer stared at me, it gave me chills.
“I need to supervise dinner,” I told Kirill in an attempt to leave his side.
“By supervise you mean taste the food?” he replied dryly.
My neck heated. “Of course, I have to make sure it meets standards.”
Kirill grinned at me. I didn’t trust that grin. He searched the crowd and called out, “Mama.”
Irina glanced at us questioningly.
“Do you need Lucy’s help?”
She shook her head. “Of course not! I've got this handled. You two catch up.”
Catch up? She made it sound like we hadn’t seen each other for years.
“See?” Kirill mocked me triumphantly. “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”
When I glared, he added, “Cheer up, Lusenka, I might even let you stab me at dinner.”
“Don’t tempt me,” I snapped.
He had the audacity to laugh. It was brief, but it was unusual enough that it caught a few guests off guard. They smiled at us indulgently, looking at me like I was Kirill’s salvation.
The only one who didn’t buy our act was Aralina. She was frowning at her brother and was looking at me as if trying to figure out a way to rescue me.
There were too many guests to do a sit-down, so the food was set up for a buffet. Again. Kirill stuck to my side and led us to a cozy corner after we filled up our plates. Unfortunately, I was too annoyed to have an appetite, so I picked at my food, but I welcomed the red wine.
Meanwhile, he was chowing down enthusiastically. My hand tightened around the stem of my wineglass.
“Not hungry?” My husband stated the obvious question.
“I lost my appetite,” I said.
He smirked, lowered his eyes to his plate, and rounded up a forkful of cheesy chicken. “This is particularly good. You should taste it.”
I glanced fleetingly at the gooeyness on his fork. “Pass.”
“Come on, Lusenka.” He held it closer to my mouth. “Have a bite.”
“Get your fork away from my face before I throw this wine in yours.”
I didn’t even notice the teasing in his eyes until it vanished.
He lowered his fork. “Your sulking ends now.”
“Isn’t that what you’re after? Making sure I find no pleasure in my life? Wasn’t that part of your revenge?”
His brow furrowed, and he glanced away, but I could see the muscles working in his jaw. While he figured out what the fuck he wanted, I finally figured out how to get out of his suffocating presence.
I pretended to sip the wine and tried not to cringe as I spilled a few drops on me. “Oh my, that was clumsy,” I said brightly.
His eyes dropped to the spot over my breasts where crimson soaked into the fabric.
“Seems you’re trying to redirect my attention.”
“At my boobs?” I said sweetly. “Maybe? Drool over what you can never touch. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to exit this polluted air.”