Chapter 52
I’m standing amidst the mess of my room that Vanessa left, feeling emptier than I’ve been in a long time.
The last time I had such a reaction gnawing at my insides was in the days following Padre’s death. While I spent the final four years of his life both hating him for how he handled Madre’s situation, and looking up to the man, his loss never made sense. It flicked something off inside me. Something that no fourteen-year-old needed to live with.
I went through the initial days after his death telling myself—no, convincing myself—that he was simply away on business and would return shortly. A week later, both Madre and Elio urged me to realize otherwise, but I clung to the notion he was alive but absent. All that, despite being the only one to witness his death, who held his bleeding corpse.
More than anyone, I knew for a fucking fact what happened to him, but that also gave me every reason to deny it.
Back then, Elio told me it was a normal step in the grieving process. That with the horror of our loved one being suddenly gone, never to return, our brains are wired to deny the loss while we adjust to this new normal.
Denial. Grief. Back then, it made sense, but now? As I stand in the centre of my room where, the day prior, I was sparring with Vanessa, grief isn’t exactly the emotion I’d put to the feeling inside me. I certainly don’t grieve her absence.
I wonder, if by now, she’s meeting with a slew of lawyers to end the contract between us. She’ll fail or be forced to hand over what she cares about the most, and in the months following, I’ll be sure to head for Russia, and?—
My thoughts cut off. I don’t actually know what I’ll do. Demand a meeting with her organization and parade the contract around until they all realize the connection between their Pakhan and me? They’d likely slaughter me where I stand.
In truth, I no longer have a plan because every intention I had for her, everything after revealing our union, has dissipated. Vanessa changed everything, and now, it makes the marriage contract useless and even, though I hate admitting, pointless.
I kick aside a blanket while reaching for the mattress to drag it back onto the bed frame, then I gather the comforter and toss it on top before retrieving the pillows. The one I know she used, I sniff, smelling the faint imprint of her.
My cock hardens, and with a heavy scowl, I toss the pillow onto the bed and turn for the rest of the mess.
If I had to guess, once Vanessa finishes with her lawyers, she’ll return to hunting that politician from her past down. No rest for the wicked, and my wife is as wicked as they come. She won’t risk a longer rest than she was already forced to take.
She’s wicked, certainly, but not evil. Evil is saved for people like her father and uncle. Like that politician, Boris Agapov.
Even the name is horrendous.
I don’t know why; what drives me to this. What power of hers she left in her wake to control my actions, but I text Nero while quickly finishing up. He arrives in time to watch me gather the broken night table, homemade stake, and wood shards scattered all over the place. With a smirk, he leans against the doorframe as Venus pushes past him.
I whistle her away, pointing for her to return to Nero’s side. “There’s wood everywhere. I’d rather she not get any in her paws.”
“What’d that nightstand do to you?”
I level him a stare after gathering all the wood into the corner of my room, giving it a home until I can get a cleaning crew to properly dispose of it. “That would be courtesy of Vanessa.” With my toe, I kick the stake resting closest to me. “She decided to make her own weapon and sacrificed my furniture to do it.”
He chuckles. “Inventive. You know, she’ll do anything to break the union.”
“She can serve all the divorce papers she wants. I won’t sign them.”
His head ticks to the side. “And when she feigns your signature the way we did hers?”
For that, I have no answer.
He crosses his arms over his chest and kicks a foot to the side, propping it on the doorframe. “With her gone, what’s the point?”
Again, I have no answer.
After a moment passes, he laughs again and shakes his head. “Alright, I get it. That’s not why you asked me here, so what’s up?”
“I have another task, but I want it to stay under wraps. If you need help, ask Elio for only those he trusts the most. I don’t want to risk word leaving the organization.”
His brows lower and he nudges off the wall. “Got it. What do you need?”
“I want everything on a man named Boris Agapov.”