Chapter 25
Alexei
Three Months After
I love my wife. I really do. But sometimes she makes decisions that affect both our lives, and not in a good way.
Exhibit One: Portugal.
Why? Because that’s the destination of our honeymoon. I humored her and agreed because, of course, she "owns me" and can do with me whatever she pleases.
Exhibit Two: The bikini.
I’m not one of those men who says, “Yeah, my wife can be butt-naked on the street, and I wouldn’t mind as long as she comes home to me.” Fuck that. I’m pissed. She looks too good, and I can’t stop staring.
Exhibit Three: The argument.
Before we even hit the sand, we had a fight that lasted exactly three minutes.
It ended quickly when she told me, quite firmly, to go fuck myself because she’s a grown adult.
I would have preferred a wetsuit, but suggesting that was enough to get me chewed out for the entire week leading up to this trip.
The things I do for love. I’m going to need to work on this attitude soon.
We arrive at the beach, and I walk around to open her door. She hops out with a smile and takes my hand. I don’t know what’s gotten into her lately, but she’s been clingy. I suspect it’s the ovulation talking. I don’t mind. When she’s like this, she can bang the skin off my dick.
We walk hand in hand as I unload the bags for Exhibit Number Four: A public beach.
“Come on, hurry up. It’s gonna be dark soon,” my lovely wife drawls, pulling me toward the sea.
I chuckle, letting her drag me. “Be careful. I don’t trust these beach floors.”
She snorts. “Hahahaha, you're such a hater. Only you would think something is coming to attack me.”
She wobbles slightly on the wedge heels she insisted would look good in pictures.
I help her steady herself, then spread the blanket and start to unpack.
She takes a seat immediately and starts pulling off her shoes.
Then she removes her cover-up and… Holy shit!
She looks too good. I whistle as she shows off that red bikini.
My throat bobs, trying to swallow dry saliva.
“Stop staring and come join me in the water.”
Zoya runs off toward the ocean, her cheeks jiggling as she goes. God, I need the patience of a priest today. I don’t think killing someone on my honeymoon will bode well for us when we’re finally alone.
I abandon the supplies - my men can handle the rest - and join her in the surf.
“Hahaha, it’s so cold and salty!” Her voice is boisterous with laughter as she dips her whole body in.
“Don’t go too deep,” I warn her. “There might be sharks.”
She giggles. “Were you reading up on sea creatures around here?”
My wife turns her body over, floating on the water.
I don’t look at the fish. I survey the area for danger.
“Yes. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m not Superman.
A shark can kill me in the water. Though I’d love to be him right now - his eyesight could probably kill off all these unfortunate extras taking a look at you. ”
“Stop sulking, Alex.”
She rises from the water, swimming closer. The nickname still catches me off guard. A month ago, the first time she called me that, I was worried I’d done something wrong. But she just said calling me Alexei was too much work.
I pull her close. The "unfortunate extras" are still staring, but for now, she’s looking at me. That’s enough to keep me from starting a massacre. For now.
After an hour in the water, Zoya is completely exhausted. She flops onto the beach chair and closes her eyes. “I’m taking a nap,” she announces. “Wake me when you’re done packing.”
“Got it,” I tell her, and I start gathering our stuff.
I’m working my way through the towels and the sunscreen, marveling at the ridiculous amount of things women feel the need to bring to a beach, when I hear a voice.
“Hey there.”
I look up to see a young blonde woman smiling at me with a familiar expression, as if we’ve already met somewhere. I ignore her and continue packing, but she’s a persistent bitch.
“I said hey,” she says, stepping closer. “I’m Lucia. I saw you down at the beach and thought I’d come say hi. I wanted to see if you want to come to my party later today.”
I keep ignoring her, focusing on packing up our things so my wife and I can go enjoy the rest of our day.
“It’s rude not to answer when someone’s talking to you,” she snaps.
Zoya turns onto her side and cracks one eye open to look at the woman. “If he’s not answering you, then take the hint and fuck off. I’m trying to nap before we go shopping.”
The blonde snorts, as if she’s finally noticed Zoya is even there. “Mind your business, bitch. I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to him.”
She turns back to me with a look that’s meant to be alluring. “Enough about her. Did you hear what I said? You’re super handsome, and my friends and I would really like you at the party. Especially me.”
She reaches out to touch my arm, but I use the towel I’m holding as a barrier and push her back without making contact with her skin. She stumbles but doesn’t fall.
“Oh, come on. Stop playing hard to get,” she says, her voice rising.
“He’s not playing,” Zoya says, sitting up now. “He doesn’t want you. Fuck off.”
“I wasn’t fucking talking to you! Mind your business and eat your snacks,” the woman screams. She looks at me and asks, “Is this bitch okay?”
I don’t even look up from my packing. “Just go back to sleep, Vedma. There are flies around. If you need me to spray something, I will.”
The woman is furious now, but she’s directing it all at Zoya. “And who the fuck are you even to him? You’re just trying to get his attention as much as I am.”
“I don’t need to get his attention because he’s my husband,” Zoya informs her. “You’re the one causing a nuisance. If you don’t leave right now, I will throw some hands.”
The woman laughs. “That’s a lie. You expect me to believe that he would settle for you? You aren’t even wearing a wedding ring. So you’re not even his wife.”
That’s when I actually notice - the ring isn’t on her finger. “Vedma, why aren’t you wearing your ring?” I ask.
“Well, we were going to the beach, and I didn’t want to lose it since it was such a BIG FAT JUICY DIAMOND,” she screams, making sure the woman hears every word. “But it seems I should have brought it to show to, you know, unsuspecting bitches.”
I chuckle at her. “No worries. We’ll just go back to the hotel and get it. I wore my ring, so that’s enough proof. Besides, why should we even need to prove ourselves to desperate, thirsty women?”
The woman lunges at Zoya, but before she can get her hands on my wife, I grab the beach towel and wrap it around her neck. I yank her back hard.
“When I didn’t touch you the first time, I was doing it out of courtesy,” I growl. “I’m in a good mood. It’s my honeymoon. I plan to enjoy my time with my wife. If you try that shit again, if you try to put a scratch on her body, your body would never be found.”
I fling her away, and she lands on her ass in the sand. I look around at the staring crowd and ask, “Does anybody else want a piece of me?”
Silence.
I finish packing the bag while the bodyguards stay back, knowing I’ve got it handled. Once we start walking away, Zoya speaks up. “Next time women like that come at you, and they don’t leave you alone, I give you permission to shoot to kill.”
I stop walking. “What?”
“I said I give you permission…”
“Yeah. I heard you,” I interrupt her. “But that is so sexy.”
“Are you okay?” she asks, looking at me like I've lost it.
I drop the beach bag and wrap my arms around her waist. I bury my face in her hair and take a huge drag of her scent. “You make me even more obsessed everyday. Yes. From now on, I will only shoot to kill anybody, man or woman, that comes near me that you do not permit.”
“Such a good husband,” she says simply.
I pick up the bag, and we head off toward the streets outside the beach area. The buildings here are older, with locals sitting on stoops and vendors selling trinkets in the shade. The first shop we pass has these ceramic plates with engraved designs, and Zoya stops immediately.
“Wow, Alexei. Isn’t this really pretty?” she asks, her eyes lighting up.
“Yeah,” I agree, mostly because she likes it.
“We should definitely get it as a souvenir,” she insists. “We can’t come here and not get anything. Plus, we’ve been cooped up in the hotel fucking like rabid bunnies on Easter.”
I can't help but smirk at her. “Bunnies don’t even have sex on Easter. That’s a myth.”
“Well, not in that book I read,” she counters with a grin. “It was hot as hell, and we were doing the same thing those bunnies were doing.”
I take the plate from the display and ask the vendor, “How much?”
The vendor smiles at us and says, “Três euros.”
I hand him a five-euro note and tell him to keep the change.
Zoya tucks the plate into her beach bag, looking satisfied.
We walk for another hour, checking out more shops.
Zoya finds a vendor selling traditional Portuguese outfits and giggles the entire time she’s trying them on.
My heart feels full just watching her enjoy herself.
Eventually, we stop buying things and just walk, enjoying the sights of the old buildings and the narrow, winding streets.
The sky starts getting dark, and I realize how late it’s gotten.
“Vedma, it’s time to go home. It’s getting late,” I tell her.
She pouts at me. “But why? The night has just started. We’re on our honeymoon. We’re supposed to enjoy ourselves.”
“I know, but we can come back tomorrow. Plus, there are activities at the resort.” I say softly, trying to placate her.
“Mm-mm,” she hums, shaking her head. “You said you wanted to get to know me on a deeper level. This gets us closer.”
“Walking around a foreign country in the dark?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says. “And let’s lose the bodyguards. People keep avoiding us because of them. We can’t even interact with anybody. They think we’re celebrities or something.”
I chuckle at that. “So what’s my reward if I send the guards away?”