Chapter Thirteen Alina’s POV
Chapter Thirteen
Alina’s POV
Konstantin turned away, walking to the window on the right.
It was the first time I’d seen him lose his cool, the first time I’d heard him really raise his voice.
And it was because of me. Well, I didn’t actually ask him to lose his cool, and I wasn’t lying about not knowing anything.
But, technically, it all appeared like I was guilty and hiding something.
Still, the painful tension in the room didn’t have anything to do with the Bratva situation. When he banged the table, I was shaken. But it was the unease in his expression and how he lowered his voice after a calming breath that shook me even more.
I couldn’t tell if he was standing there and looking out the window because he was frustrated about not getting an answer from me, or because he was so mad at me that he couldn’t stand looking at me.
Either way, I couldn’t find a way to retaliate with anger.
Because as much as I didn’t want to, I felt his pain and understood the reason for his being discomfited.
It made me want to do or say something to make him feel better or, at least, distract him.
Anything to dilute the tense and thick atmosphere. But I didn’t know what.
What’s with him making me scramble for what to say?
I stood there, my fingers toying with the hem of my sweater.
Even though he had his back to me, I could feel the rigidity of his expression.
He wasn’t looking out the window like someone enjoying a view; he fixed his gaze on it as if his gaze was hard enough, whatever was bothering him would disappear.
“You had them bring my things from my apartment,” I whispered. “Thank you.”
When he didn’t say anything or make any indication that he’d heard me at all, I turned around to leave.
Well, I tried.
“You’re welcome,” I heard him say just as my hand touched the doorknob.
I opened the door and walked out, mistakenly banging it a bit.
Asshole.
I didn’t know if the cause of my sudden annoyance was regret.
Regret that I flattered his ego by saying ‘thank you’ for something I'd asked for as a condition of marriage.
Not that he fulfilled both conditions. Besides, it was only right for someone to honor their agreement.
But I had treated him like someone who had done a noble thing deserving of knighthood.
Or maybe it was the fact that his reluctant answer felt like holding a treat away from a dog and letting it process the possibility of not getting it—and then giving it.
Why did he wait until I was almost out the door before opening that mouth in response?
Because he can, right?
Well, I could get out of his office and leave him to his stupid thoughts.
Getting into my room, I changed and went straight to bed.
**********
I took a moment before opening my eyes, trying to ascertain if the knocks I was hearing were real or just in my head.
“Morning, ma’am!” I heard Hans call from the other side of the door along with another series of knocks.
Not a dream, then.
“Come in,” I answered, hoping he could hear my low, groggy voice.
The door opened, and he came in, a small smile on his face just like the day before.
“I’m sorry if I woke you, ma’am. Good morning. I came for the plates from last night and to let you know breakfast is ready.”
“Good morning, Hans,” I greeted, my feet touching the cool floor. “And, please call me Alina. I’m nobody’s madam.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, madam,” he answered, his tone low like an apology. “You’re the boss’s wife.”
“You don’t say,” I mumbled as he went to retrieve the tray on the wide stool.
“You’ll get used to it,” he said, chuckling.
“Everybody seems to believe that.”
“It’s the truth, ma’am.”
I sighed heavily, crossing my arms over my chest.
His smile turned sympathetic as he said, “You should come down and have breakfast. It was specially made for you.”
“I’ll freshen up and then come down,” I replied.
“Okay, ma’am.”
He had opened the door to leave when I asked, “What about Kon—your boss?”
I didn’t want to run into him or even see him at all.
“He’s preparing to head out already,” he said and I nodded.
I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth.
The thought of having a bath, even though I could make it hot, on this cold morning, made me shake my head in refusal.
So I changed into the same sweater I wore the day before and a pair of soft but thick black joggers.
I added a pair of baby blue socks to my outfit before I stepped out of the room.
My room was the second on the left side of the hallway, which, as I realized the previous day, was much shorter than the main hallway it branched out of.
Konstantin’s office was the first door on the other side, and there was just one door after it.
As I walked along the hallway, I wondered which was his bedroom.
The one before or after mine? Or this one beside his office?
Whichever one it was, it was still very close to my room.
A room, I was sure, he must have instructed his workers to put my things in.
Should it mean anything that he didn’t assign any of the rooms farther along the main hallway to me instead?
Nope.
I noticed two guards following me at a distance as I emerged from the hallway and went down the stairs. But there was no need to ask why; it was all Konstantin.
“Ah, the beautiful Mrs. Lobanov,” a middle-aged lady coming out of the kitchen greeted me with a big smile, drawing me out of my reverie.
“Uh, good morning,” I answered, walking towards the dining room.
“Oh, please forgive my manners. Good morning, ma’am,” she greeted. “It’s wonderful to meet you.”
“Thank you,” I uttered, having to muster a smile.
“Please, sit. Sit,” she rushed, pulling the first chair to the left of the head of the table out for me.
“Thanks,” I muttered, feeling overwhelmed by the unexpected welcome.
She came to stand beside me, wiping her hands on her white apron. She was chubby, about five inches shorter than me, and her chestnut eyes looked playful. Her jet black hair was done into a high, small bun.
She didn’t acknowledge the two suited-up men who now stood by the foot of the stairs like Russian statues.
“We heard you were living in Russia, so we made something from there,” she revealed, placing an empty white dish in front of me.
“We?” I repeated. “You mean yourself and Hans, or there’s a whole army?”
She giggled, covering her mouth with a hand like a teenage girl.
“We’re not so many,” she answered. “I’m Greta, the main cook.”
“Right. I’m Alina.”
“Most of us leave on Sundays, especially when the boss is overseas. That’s why you didn’t meet us all yesterday,” she explained.
“Should I?” she inquired, her hands on the covered plates at the center of the table.
“Yes, please.”
“You’re so beautiful. Hans was right,” she gushed, picking up a serving spoon. “Boss only has eyes for the best.”
I chuckled. “I’m quite sure there were no eyes involved in the story.”
I expected her to frown in confusion and ask me what I meant. Frankly, I was ready to let her and whoever cared to listen know how much of a monster their boss was. But she didn’t look surprised, in the least.
“It often starts that way, it’s not new in the boss’s world,” she uttered as she placed the plate, which now consisted of a little of, at least three different delicacies, in front of me.
“Thank you.”
“I hope you enjoy it,” she replied just before she turned to leave, and her eyes suddenly expanded. “Good morning, sir!”
Shit. I thought he’d left.
Refusing to acknowledge his presence, I dug into my food.
“Alina,” he called, his calm tone forcing me to turn to look up. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” I uttered as Sergei went ahead of him toward the entrance door.
Greta also disappeared into the kitchen, leaving both of us and the two Russian statues.
“Are you okay? Slept well?”
He looked at me like those weren’t just routine questions, and he really wanted to know.
It indescribably upset me.
“Why not just go to wherever you’re headed and let me have breakfast in peace?”
“Well, just answer me, and I can be on my way.”
“When will I have my phone?” I inquired instead.
“Your phone,” he mentioned. “I’m not aware of any agreement to hand your phone over to you.”
“Yes, but I’m asking for it now,” I bit out, and his cool expression, like that of someone having a civil conversation, made my anger rise. “I need my phone. It’s the least you can do, dammit!”
Jaw clenched, he took a step closer to the table and leaned towards me. “I can’t let you have a phone.”
He didn’t sound like someone who just made a command. His voice was more like an appeal. It touched something inside of me—probably the same way his reaction in his office the previous night did—and I looked away from his gaze.
Then he stepped back and walked away, leaving me with my plate of food and a myriad of confused, albeit angry, thoughts.
Thankfully, the day passed fast—very fast. I watched TV in the sitting room, headed upstairs for a nap after freshening up, came back down when Hans summoned me for a rather early dinner, and went back into my room.
I was walking away from the dresser when I heard the sound of boots approaching my door.
I knew it was Konstantin. While my body eagerly anticipated seeing him, my head hoped he was just passing by.
I stood where I was. I could see the shadow of his boots where they blocked the flicker of light from the hallway.
Why is he just standing there?
I didn’t move until I heard the sound of his retreating movement faded into silence.
I didn’t feel as indifferent about it as I’d thought I would.
**********