Chapter 40
Mikhail
I’d never given much thought to domestic bliss.
In this life, marriage and unions are merely symbols of power and trade.
Arrangements for the benefit of stability.
Back when Nikolai was our father’s heir, he’d always been expected to marry whoever he had to in order to gain an alliance.
Thankfully, I was never expected to marry at all, likely because everyone thought I’d traumatize the poor girl with my cold exterior and issues with touch.
When I examine myself now, happily wrapped around the soft limbs and curves of my woman, enraptured by the way the morning light peaks over her pale shoulder, I feel like a completely unrecognizable man.
Regretfully, I slowly untangle my body from Cassandra’s, conscious not to wake her as I slide my arm out from beneath her head. She curls up on her side with an adorable yawn, a kitten basking in the warm morning glow.
I never thought I’d ever crave another person’s touch, or even be able to stand sleeping next to a woman for the entirety of the night.
But Cass has always been my exception to every single rule.
After all of the fear that crushed into me during the events of last night, that awful burn in my chest as I raced down the road to her, unsure whether I’d make it in time—I’ll be damned if I ever let her leave my side again.
I hiss out a breath, thick with emotion, as I wait for the brewing coffee on the kitchen island, that awful anxiety racing into me all over again.
I made sure to keep those fuckers alive so I can enjoy every second of their deaths on my own timeframe. Ivan took them to one of our holding properties last night and is currently waiting for my call on what to do with them next.
It didn’t escape me that my girl didn’t ask me what I was going to do with those bastards lying battered across the floor when she crawled into my arms. I hope it means that some level of her subconscious is actually beginning to place some trust in me, and that thought alone sends thrills of hope down my spine.
I pour the steaming coffee into two cups, adding a splash of cream in hers like Ivan told me she does every morning, then stroll back to the bedroom. I already miss being in her proximity, and returning to her side feels as natural as allowing a pair of magnets to drag back together.
Except when I step back into the room, she’s no longer asleep. Instead, I find her curled onto her elbows, completely engrossed in something she’s reading.
“Mikhail, what in the world is this?” She turns her head to ask, holding up the small book that reads ‘Mikhail’s Feelings Journal’ in big, ridiculous letters on the cover.
Ah, shit. I forgot I left that thing out.
“I don’t know, baby. My therapist is having me keep that thing to use for my ‘homework’ assignments,” I admit, handing her one of the cups and wrapping my arms back around her where they want to be.
“Therapist?” she asks, setting the book down.
“You told me I needed professional help, remember? I can’t say I love the whole go-in-and-talk-about-feelings crap, but she’s made a few good points. Especially about how I’ve been so hesitant to let you in.”
“I—I’m speechless.”
“Baby, I’d do anything to keep you close. If talking to some old hag about my issues and answering feeling prompts in a journal will help me be a better partner to you, you bet I’ll swallow my pride and do what I’m told.”
I watch raptly as she sets her coffee down on the bedside table and turns back to me. Then she’s crawling into my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck, filling my lungs with her sweet scent.
“You went to therapy...to be a better partner for me?” she says in a soft voice, brushing her little nose against mine. I wrap my arms around her thighs and waist, pressing her even closer to me.
“I’d do anything for you, Little Menace. When are you going to realize that?”
She tackles me back to the covers in an adorable act of aggression that elicits a rough chuckle from my throat, and starts kissing my lips with such fervor I hope the moment never ends.