Chapter 23 – Madelyn
Ironically, these past few weeks had exceeded my expectations, and I didn't realize just how attached to my husband I'd become until now. Kostya was more of a man than I had given him credit for. He was kind, polite, and caring, and I could almost swear that the man was in love with me.
This was not what I thought getting married to a ruthless mafia boss was going to be like. In fact, it was the exact opposite. It was peaceful, and not once did I hear a gunshot, contrasting the life of violence I'd envisioned.
Could this be real? Could things really continue to go so smoothly, or was I being too hopeful?
I was only a few weeks into the marriage, so maybe it was way too early to draw any conclusions. However, I couldn't rule out the fact that my husband was keen on making this work. I'd once told him that a man like him was incapable of love, but right now, I was starting to have a rethink.
Kostya wasn't the man that my dad had painted in my head. Thinking back now, I realized that all of the resentment I had toward my husband started after I found out that he was my dad's rival. Prior to that day, this man had never treated me badly, not once. Well, he was a little arrogant at first, but that was him being himself. Whatever issues he had with my dad weren't entirely his fault.
Dad had a huge part to play in this as well. From what I knew, someone paid Kostya to vandalize Dad's multi-million dollar estate, and Dad retaliated by sending goons after him. He was wrong there.
Dad shouldn't have gone after Kostya, knowing that he was only doing a job someone had paid him to do. Dad's real enemy was Kostya's client, not Kostya himself. Yes, the Tarasov Bratva had done the job, but someone else was calling the shots, pulling the strings, and that someone was who Dad should have gone after.
And why send goons after a ruthless man who always crushed anything that posed a threat to him? Why endanger those hooligans just to film the whole thing, to get Kostya's ruthlessness on camera?
That was an inhumane act, and he was no better than the man he so much despised. There was no better way to put it; every life lost during that attack was Dad's fault. A man was paralyzed for good, and that was also his fault. He knew the type of man Kostya was, yet he sent those men to get slaughtered.
Kostya wasn't off the hook here, but at least this was who he was, and he wasn't pretending about it. But since when did my dad become so evil? It hurt me that he let himself act like the enemy and still somehow saw nothing wrong with his actions.
Thinking about my dad this way filled my heart with resentment at his hypocrisy. He'd missed my wedding because he chose his pride over a daughter he claimed to love. He missed my after-party and hadn't even bothered to reach out to me since the last time we met. Was that not cruel as well, or was it okay because his last name wasn't Tarasov? What if I was hurt? What if Kostya was wicked to me, and I was suffering? Dad didn't care at all.
My brows furrowed as I glared at his number on my phone screen with my face contorted into a frown. I felt a flicker of irritation at his abandonment simply because things didn't go his way. I tossed the phone aside somewhere on the kitchen island. I was hungry and had decided to fix myself something to eat.
With my hand on the granite countertop, I put my head down, rubbing my fingers over my eyes. I'd rather think about my husband at this moment—at least he cared about me.
I didn't think it would be possible that I'd miss him this much after just a few weeks of being together. But here I was, unable to focus on a meal because my mind was occupied with thoughts of him. I wondered when he was going to return today or if he'd be less busy later at night.
Lately, Kostya had been super busy with work, but he always made time to be with me, no matter how tight his schedule was. It just wasn't enough. I wanted more hours with him. I'd grown to love his company, and my connection with him was beyond our physical touch, even though this was a huge factor. I got to see him—the compassionate part of him, the part that would do anything to please me. I got to have a glimpse into his world, and to some extent, I believed I was starting to understand him better. I admired how he was both a good husband and a cruel mafia boss at the same time. He found a way to balance both lives, and I loved that.
However, I really missed him, and I couldn't wait for him to come home. But right now, I needed to put something in my belly. This baby inside me was making me eat way too much, and I was starting to gain more weight. These days, all my senses seemed to have heightened, and so did my cravings. I could eat at any time of the day, even at night, and I always blamed it on the pregnancy.
My stomach was starting to protrude, and I loved rubbing my hand over it, but I loved it more when it was Kostya's hands doing that. I felt so guilty for coming so close to aborting this baby because now, nothing was more important in the whole world than its arrival. I was grateful to Kostya for preventing me from making the biggest mistake of my life.
This child meant the world to me, especially now that I knew my husband loved it so much as well. His lack of love for our baby had been my greatest fear, and I was glad he chose to prove me wrong.
I heard my stomach growl in protest against my delayed lunch as I boiled pasta according to the instructions on the package. The noodles swirled in the pot as I heated up a jar of marinara sauce in a saucepan, the aroma of tomatoes and herbs wafting through the air.
Slicing a baguette, I spread garlic butter on both sides and headed over to the oven to bake it.
My body flinched at a pair of strong arms that wrapped around my waist from behind. I was all by myself in this big house and wasn't expecting anyone, hence the fear that overwhelmed me. My heart skipped a beat, and I jerked my head toward the intruder, squirming in his hold.
“Don't fight me,” he said softly as our eyes locked.
“Argh! Don't scare me like that again!” I playfully slammed my fist on his chest, my voice mixed with a chuckle and exasperation that hinted at my relief.
“You're in our house.” Kostya smiled, pulling me closer to him. “There's no need to be afraid.” He leaned over and kissed my lips.
It felt good hearing him say our house , and it made my lips curl into a smile as I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Still, don't sneak up on me like that. The baby doesn't like it.”
“Yes, ma'am.” He gently spun me around, and I melted into his arms as he rubbed his palms over my small baby bump.
I loved it whenever he held me like that—arms wrapped around my waist from the back. I shut my eyes, enjoying the feeling of his palm caressing my belly.
“What’re you cooking?” he asked, his chin resting on my shoulder.
“Pasta with marinara sauce and a side of garlic bread,” I replied, sliding the sliced baguette with garlic butter into the oven as I spoke.
“Let me guess.” He stepped away, leaning his back against the edge of the counter, watching me as I stirred the noodles in the pot. “It's what the baby wants.” A smile played on his lips.
My eyes crinkled at the corners as I nodded in affirmation with a grin perched on my face.
“Well, as your husband, I'd like to taste what our baby wants,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows at me.
“Ah, bon appétit, monsieur.” I mimicked a French accent, stealing a glance at him. “But be warned: The chef—namely, me—is still perfecting the recipe, so it's still in its experimental stage.”
He laughed lightly. “Well, I'll be sure to savor each bite with utmost reverence.” He took a seat at the kitchen table, legs crossed as he watched me cook.
I had a crazy idea, and if it went south, then I'd say it was the baby's idea, not mine. The innocent little thing in my belly would have to bear with me for now because everything that I would do wrong during this period, I'd blame on the baby. No hard feelings. It was my fastest ticket out of trouble, and I was about to do something rather troublesome right now.
My eyes narrowed as a mischievous grin subtly played on my lips. I wanted to see his reaction when I served him bad food. Would he lash out at me, or would he just pretend to like it? It would help me better understand him. This was risky, but I just couldn't help myself, and in my defense, I did warn him. So, he already had an idea of what to expect or not to expect, as in this case.
Surreptitiously, I added an extra dash of salt to the pasta sauce and placed a hand on my chin, wondering if that was enough to do the trick. It wasn't. So, I generously added a handful of parsley to it. Much better.
As I served him the dish, my face switched to a picture of angelic innocence. “Voila! Your taste test awaits.”
Indeed, it was a test.
I took a step back, watching him.
His brows furrowed at me, as if suspicious of my evil plan. Kostya took a tentative bite, his eyes never leaving mine as he chewed slowly, his jaw moving methodically, as if savoring the nuisance of the dish. He didn't say a word, and I wouldn't shift my gaze from the sight of the man struggling to swallow a bite he'd taken. His face remained impassive, masking his true expression. However, his eyes told a different story of shock with a subtle glint of disbelief.
In those blue eyes was a flare of you're gonna pay for this flickering in their depths. Yet, he maintained a straight face and continued to chew quietly.
I folded my arms across my chest, my gaze unwavering as I couldn't afford to miss the slightest change in his expression. But Kostya seemed to have mastered the deception, although I knew he was struggling. His Adam's apple bobbled as he finally swallowed.
To make things even more interesting, I asked with a smile, “So, what do you think?”
He raised his hand, index finger pressed over the thumb. “It's good,” he replied with a voice as flat as his face.
“I'm glad you like it.” My tone dripped with innocence as I tried so hard not to burst out laughing.
I put my head down, a palm over my mouth as if to secure the laughter threatening to explode from my lips. I could hear the sound in my throat as I struggled to hold it back in. My teeth were gritted tightly in an attempt to win this battle, and my face scrunched up at the intensity of this overwhelming urge.
“You did this purpose, didn't you?” he asked, his tone laced with amusement.
I burst out laughing instantly, my palm still hanging over my mouth as I slumped into the chair across from him.
“You got me real good,” he said amidst chuckles, his eyes fixed on me.
Little did I know that he was patiently waiting for my hand to leave my mouth, and the moment it did, he swiftly shoved a spoonful of doctored pasta sauce into my mouth. “Have a taste of your own medicine.” He laughed lightly, his eyes sparkling with mirth.
An abrupt gasp escaped my lips as the salty, parsley-laden sauce danced on my taste buds. Damn, it was bad. The dish was absolutely ruined, but I couldn't help laughing at the unexpected retaliation.
We looked at each, basking in the euphoria of this innocent moment. My heart was gladdened by the fact that he handled this well. He'd passed my test.
“You know,” he began, leaning into the chair, “I miss the good old days when my mom used to cook homemade meals.” A smile played on his lips with an expression that suggested he was on a short trip down memory lane. “It used to be a full house growing up, and honestly, sometimes I miss having family around.” He looked at me, his voice hinting at a lonely heart.
He just shared his feelings with me, and I felt a flutter of joy in my heart. This was a huge success for me. I was starting to be the woman he could open up to, and in some way, it was refreshing to realize just how much he craved a family of his own.
With a smile, I stretched out my hand and gently squeezed his fingers, my gaze locking with his. “You have a family with me, Kostya, and when this baby comes, it'll fill that void in your heart.”
He leaned closer, looking right into my eyes as if searching for answers. “What makes you so sure?”
I casually shrugged my shoulders. “Because it'll fill the void in mine,” I said softly. “My mother died when I was little. I didn't really get the chance to know her, let alone experience her cooking.” I paused, letting my words sink in for a moment. “But with this baby, I have the opportunity to fix that emptiness in me. At least I can be the mother that I didn't grow up with. I can give this child what I never had: a mother's love, care, and affection.” I watched his expression soften at my words. “You, on the other hand, will get to have that family you crave, and that void in your heart will be filled.”
“For someone who was raised without a mother, you sure will make an excellent one,” he said, his voice dripping with pride as a wide grin spread across his face.
My cheeks flushed, turning red, as my heart swelled with emotions. His compliment charged my tear glands, intensifying the flutter in my chest. A soft smile played on my lips as I looked away in an attempt to compose myself.
“Thank you,” I said with a faint voice, my eyes darting back to him.
He nodded subtly, his gaze unwavering as he maintained the smile perched on his face.