Chapter 42
Dimitri Morozov
It had been only a few days since my father died.
Or better said, since he was killed. We had staged it cleanly.
The story we fed to the right ears was that the Italians had struck in the night and killed him after my father recklessly dismissed the guards.
I did not know why he did that that day, but it worked in our favour.
No one questioned it too deeply. In our world, power moved fast. If someone was dead, they did not focus too much on it. The living were what mattered.
I still hadn’t told Rei about it. After I came back that day and fucked him, he asked me where I went, but I said I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t want him to be pulled into all that mess and find out my father had a part in his pain, or that Alexei killed him.
I didn’t think he needed to know all that.
It didn’t matter.
I could not bring myself to feel sadness.
Not even the smallest flicker of it stirred in my chest when I thought of him lying there.
Ivan had never been a father. He had been a boss who saw his son as an extension of his empire rather than a living thing with a heart that could break.
The memories of him dragging me into those rooms at seven years old still lived in the back of my mind.
The way his hand had gripped the back of my neck like I was a dog being trained.
He had used everything and everyone. Even the lie about the Italians had been his own invention.
He had claimed they held information to force a marriage proposal I had never wanted and never would have accepted.
It had all been him. He had wanted the alliance for his own reasons.
I felt sick when I found that out two days ago.
My grandfather had returned and taken the leader position without ceremony.
His gnarled hands rested on the same desk where Ivan had once sat.
He took it until I finished my studies. I could not split my focus two ways.
My priority was Rei. There was no way I would find time for him if I dealt with an empire and college at the same time.
My grandfather had taken one look at me and Alexei when he arrived, and he had known.
The understanding had passed between us without a single word spoken.
He knew one of us had killed him, but he had never particularly liked Ivan.
Grandfather had always said it plainly. Ivan had killed his daughter.
He had regretted giving her to him every single day since.
I liked my grandfather. For one, he was not getting into my business about who I fucked. And he had always been nice to me ever since I was a kid. He saw my mother in me.
Today was a special day. It was my fairy’s birthday.
I had been awake for hours already, moving through the kitchen.
I had spent the early hours with my phone propped against a mixing bowl, watching video after video, pausing and rewinding until my hands ached from repetition.
The rice had to be perfect - short grain, rinsed until the water ran clear, steamed until each grain was distinct and glossy.
The miso soup needed the right balance of dashi, white miso, and silken tofu that wouldn’t fall apart.
I grilled the salmon until the skin was crisp and the flesh flaked easily under the chopsticks.
Everything was arranged carefully on a lacquered tray.
When I carried the tray into the bedroom, Rei was still curled on his side, the black shirt he had slept in riding up to show the smooth line of his hip. I set the tray on the bedside table. The smell woke him before my voice did. His eyes fluttered open like a kitten sniffing for food.
“You cooked?” he asked, sitting up slowly. I helped him with the pillows, watching the way his gaze moved over each dish.
He started eating pretty quickly. “It’s perfect,” he said between bites, looking at me like I had hung the moon.
I smiled. I was really happy he liked it. I was still clumsy with Japanese dishes after all.
After the dishes were cleared and set aside, I stood and crossed to the dresser. “I have one more thing for you,” I said. From the top drawer, I took the black silk blindfold I had prepared earlier. Rei watched me with curious eyes as I came back to the bed.
I lifted it toward his face. He chuckled, that light, airy sound that always made him seem exactly like the fairy I called him. “Hey, I wanna see.”
I shook my head, a small smile tugging at my mouth. “Be patient.”
He let me tie the blindfold gently over his eyes. I took his hand and helped him stand. We were still in sleep clothes, and that was fine.
I led him out of the house. The air was warm.
He held my hand tighter as we walked. One of my nails - the thumb on my right hand - was painted black.
The polish was slightly chipped at the edge from yesterday, when he had sat cross-legged on the bed with the little bottle and brush, tongue caught between his teeth in concentration.
He had wanted to paint all of them. He had started with that one finger, but I had watched him, the way his pretty face focused, the way his shirt had slipped off one shoulder, and I couldn’t help myself.
I had rolled him over onto his back before he could reach for the next nail, pinned his wrists above his head with one hand, and fucked him right there on the tangled sheets.
He never finished painting the rest, but I kind of liked it that way.
“Almost there,” I said, guiding him gently.