6. Kaz
I wishI could go back to Russia and torture Mattia for days before I kill him. For months. Fucking years, just to make him feel a fraction of the pain Caelia went through. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to navigate this situation without telling her the truth. Last night, after I left her room, I destroyed everything in my path. It would have been so easy to pull her into my arms and assure her that there was nothing to fear and that he wouldn’t come back. But I couldn’t. And the last person she would want comfort from is the man who resembles the monster that inflicted those horrors upon her. She suffers from nightmares because of him. Most nights, I stay awake, watching over her, fighting the urge to wake her and reassure her that everything will be all right. It doesn’t help that she has been sleeping on that damn chair, the one I want to set on fire.
I thought I could make things right by giving her back what he took away and finding some middle ground. But it’s foolish. It’s cruel. As I stare at my bruised knuckles, I feel like I’m losing control. My head is pounding, and my vision goes in and out of focus. I sit alone in the kitchen, contemplating whether to make my coffee Irish at seven o’clock in the morning. A MacBook and an iPhone are on the table, both brand new, waiting for her. A black card rests on top of them. I don’t know her taste in books, so I bought her a gift card from Barnes Noble. There’s no gift meaningful enough to ask for forgiveness for something I didn’t do or for what my wretched twin brother did.
The deal is off.
As far as my uncle is concerned, she’s a pawn, but his opinion doesn’t matter. Every time I look at her, something stirs within me—the desire to touch her burns in my fingertips, to mend all the broken pieces, to taste her, and to alleviate the pain that consumes her. She is as vital to me as the air I breathe.
Her footsteps are light, barely audible. She moves through the walls like a ghost in what should be a safe place for her.
“Morning.” Her eyes meet mine, but she doesn’t stop.
I’m taken aback because she speaks first. After last night, I didn’t expect to hear another word from her ever again. And I wouldn’t blame her. Caelia wears a robe over her pajamas, her red hair tied in a loose ponytail.
“Morning.”
It’s far from a good morning, and we both know it.
“What do you want to eat?” she asks, opening the fridge.
It takes me a moment to realize she’s referring to our deal. She’s here because I demanded it in exchange for everything she needs and should have. I agreed to have Giuliana cook some days, but I don’t want more people around than necessary.
“The deal’s off, Wildfire.”
“What?” She turns around slowly, one hand holding the fridge door open, disappointment engraved on her features.
“The deal’s off,” I repeat.
“Off?” She furrows her brows, shifting from one foot to the other. Sometimes, it feels like we’re speaking different languages. When she looks at me, she sees a savage—a monster. She pleaded with Mattia countless times, but he never listened. Caelia has no reason to believe this time will be any different. “What does that mean? Are things going to go back to how they used to be?”
“No.” My voice is sharp. There’s no other way to hide the rage inside.
“I don’t understand.”
I despise how small she tries to make herself at times as if occupying less space allows her to breathe quietly and remain unnoticed by him. Dark circles haunt her weary green eyes. I do my best to anchor myself in place.
“I’m going to give you everything I promised I would.”
“Without asking for anything in return?”
Mattia has already taken everything from her. I have no right to demand anything for selfish reasons. She is not to blame for the attraction I feel toward her. I try not to stare for too long, not to make her uncomfortable. She can barely stand being in the same room as me without flinching.
“Without asking for anything in return,” I confirm.
“Nothing you’ve done recently makes any sense.” She shakes her head.
“I’m trying to do better. Nothing can change the past or the wrongness of it all. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t change anything.”
“It doesn’t,” she confirms. “What do you want from me, Mattia?”
“I want you to stop seeing me as your enemy.”
“You are my enemy.”
Caelia closes the fridge, leaning against it with her arms crossed over her chest.
“I am also your husband.”
A cruel smile tugs at her lips. It’s the last thing she needs to be reminded of.
“Is this what you want, Mattia? Do you want to give this marriage a chance?”
Is it? I have no fucking clue. She’s not my wife. She’s too fucking young. I know nothing about this woman beyond the sorrow she carries. But I worry about her; the need to protect her drives me insane. Her beauty struck me the first time I saw her picture, leaving me breathless when she stood before me. I want to know everything about her.
“And if I say yes?”
What the fuck am I doing? Her eyes light up, but it’s not joy I’m seeing.
“I will never forgive you. The only reason I haven’t tried to kill you yet is because your family will hunt me down, and I’m not suicidal, regardless of how hard you tried to break me. When you die, I’m going to open a bottle of champagne and dance on your grave.” Her smile widens. “If this is something you can live with, then let’s give this marriage a chance.”
I do my best not to laugh. Mattia deserves all of that and more. I won’t take any of it personally. I despise the hand I’ve been dealt, but I have to play it. I need to take advantage of the fact that Mattia probably never bothered to get to know her so that he wouldn’t know much about her.
Something made her change her mind. She’s not doing it out of love, so she must have a plan.
“I can live with that,” I confirm, waiting to see what she will do next.
She licks her upper lip, rubbing her arms. Caelia is impulsive. Sometimes, she speaks or acts without fully considering the consequences. She was probably expecting me to become angry or violent. I can only imagine how often her words backfired when Mattia sat before her instead of me.
“So … ” I rub my palms on my jeans, standing up. “What do you want to eat?”
“I ... uh ... what?”
It pains me to see her flinch when I take a step closer. She moves out of my way, leaving a clear path to the fridge. “What do you want to eat?” I repeat.
“I’m not picky.”
It’s not the whole truth, but it’s more than I’ve gotten from her so far, and I’ll take it. My stepmom and aunt taught me how to cook, despite my uncle’s protests that it’s a useless skill no man needs to have. We used to spend Sunday afternoons in the kitchen, the patio door open, with them sitting in lounge chairs with a glass of wine, laughing at my failures. I always messed up their instructions, and they refused to help because they said I had to learn to listen more closely.
“Do you need any help?”
I shake my head. Caelia takes the seat closest to the exit. I wonder if it’s a deliberate choice or merely a coincidence.
“What did you love to do before you married me?”
Him.
Before she married that sick, pathetic excuse for a human being. Tilting her head, she takes a deep breath. It looks like she struggles to find an answer to my question.
“I ... um ... I loved creating illustrations for children’s books,” she murmurs, her gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. “I even tried writing some.” I want to make her look at me and witness that half-smile tugging at her lips—a sight I have yet to see.
“Is that something you’d like to pick up again?”
I turn on the oven, only partially focused on the task. If I burn the food, my aunt will track me down.
“What?” she says, snapping out of her thoughts.
“I’m just wondering if there’s anything you’d like to do. You spend a lot of time locked in that room alone. And it’s entirely my fault,” I add in a heartbeat, “and I’m sorry.”
Is this how my life is going to be from now on? I”m constantly apologizing to this woman for things I didn’t do. Is this helping? Is it making anything better? It’s driving me insane.
“I guess,” she whispers. “I honestly don’t know. It’s not something I dared to think about.”
Fucking Mattia.
“Just tell me if there’s anything you need or anything I can do for you.”
Tell me if there’s any piece of you that’s still whole, Caelia.
My family decided not to share enough information about their marriage before I inserted myself into her life. They left me vulnerable, and it’s not something I will ever be able to forgive. The first night I saw her, I played it by ear. And I wasn’t lying when I told her that all I wanted was to spread her legs on a table in front of all those sycophants and devour her as if she were my last meal. I have dreamed about it countless times. She possesses the kind of beauty and vulnerability that can make a man fall to his knees and worship her. Any sane man, not my fucking brother.
She remains silent as I finish cooking, her eyes piercing through me, searching for meaning in all this.
“Thank you,” she murmurs when I place the plate before her. I wait for the toast to finish before taking my seat. I try to keep my distance, sitting at the other side of the table.
“This is so strange.” She laughs, toying with her food.
“It is.” I agree. “I think it will take a lot of work to make this marriage work.”
“I keep wondering when it will turn into a nightmare.”
“No more nightmares. I promise.”
At least, not while she’s awake. I can’t do anything about the ones that haunt her sleep. Not yet. She lifts her gaze, fighting to conceal any emotion. I’ll allow her to yell at me and hit me. I’ll let her remind me, for as long as we’re together, how much she fucking despises me. None of it will be about me. I’m simply wearing the face of the demon that tried to destroy her.
“Is your father pressing you for an heir?” I raise an eyebrow. “Is that why you’re doing this? Do you believe I would be more willing to have your child if you didn’t treat me like garbage?”
“No.”
He is pressing Mattia for an heir, or at least he was. But I’m not ready to have children. I don’t even know if I want them in the future. I’m not stable enough to shoulder that kind of responsibility. Revenge has been my sole commitment throughout my life. It’s within my grasp—I can taste it. And Caelia’s situation should sweeten it, not because she deserves any of the pain she’s endured, but because they deserve what’s coming to them. But it’s a bitter truth.
“Then why?”
I can’t act like him. I can’t pretend to dominate her, to force myself on her, or to be the one who stokes her hatred. Fuck, this is hard. Mattia could not provide a valid explanation. There is no twisted excuse for his actions.
“You’re my wife. I should have protected you from the start. And I failed.”
We lock eyes, waiting for the other to break the silence.
“Yes, you should’ve. And yes, you did,” she concludes, standing up. “Thank you for breakfast.”
I wouldn’t exactly consider this a victory. As she leaves me alone in the kitchen, her plate untouched, my knuckles burn each time I clench my fists or move my fingers. Rage spreads within me like wildfire.
There’s only one way to untangle this mess, but it’s not an option.