Chapter 21
Katerina
There’s a knock on my bedroom door, and my heart skips a beat. Maybe it’s Dominic. I scowl at my twinge of hope. I just want it to be him because it’s fun to get under his skin, not because I’d be excited to see him.
“Yes?” I say, ready to set Vova loose on Dominic.
But it’s Harold who pops his head in.
My shoulders sag.
“Dinner is ready and waiting on you. Mr. Montclair expects you to be in the dining room at seven p.m. each evening.” Harold’s disapproving stare makes me feel like I’m being scolded by Yelena again.
“I didn’t know. I don’t even know how to get to the dining room!” I know I’m whining, but I don’t care. I don’t want to be in trouble with Harold. And it’s truly not my fault that no one’s spoken to me today.
Harold just tsks and shakes his head.
He motions for me to follow him, so I pet Vova one more time, then leave the room.
After almost ten minutes of walking, we arrive at a set of ornate doors. He opens them, and steps aside. I walk into a room with a long table, a deep red Persian rug under it, and dark wooden seats. It’s warm, but also dangerous.
The whole house has a better ambiance than Viktor’s. It isn’t tacky, even though everything is expensive.
“Sit,” a voice says from the head of the table.
I turn to see husband dearest seated there. A place is set before him and one to his right. I’m tempted to sit at the other end of the table, but it’d feel too much like hiding from him. And one thing I’ll never do is let him think I’d cower before him.
“Woof woof.” I roll my eyes as I slowly make my way to my seat. If he wants to order me around like a dog, then he’s going to get called out for it.
“I might like you better if you were an obedient dog.” The smirk on his face negates the sting of his words.
“Liar.” I wink as I sit down. “What’s for dinner? I’m starving!”
“Open it and see for yourself. But it’s probably cold since you weren’t here for seven.” Dominic tilts his head to the silver top covering my plate. I open it to reveal a ribeye with potatoes and brussels sprouts.
I couldn’t have planned a better meal. It smells even better than it looks.
When Dominic reveals his plate, my smile drops.
“Ugh! You’re just like Viktor.” I slap my hand on the table, and the sound echoes around the room.
“Excuse me? What is your problem? I have the chefs make us a delicious meal, and you haven’t even taken a bite before complaining.” Dominic’s already pulling his hair, but I don’t give a damn about his feelings.
I glare down at his large serving, then my smaller one, then back at his.
“You won’t let me eat a normal human serving because I’m supposed to be your trophy wife that you want to keep small and dainty! I won’t have this happen again! Switch with me.” I don’t wait for his reply. I’m already grabbing his plate.
“Did Viktor purposely starve you to keep you skinny?” Dominic’s cool tone sends shivers down my spine. It’s thrilling when I get him so heated the mask drops, but this frigid tone feels like the arctic. It doesn’t scare me, but it has me alert.
“It doesn’t matter now.” I change the topic quickly. “Here’s yours.”
I hand him my former plate with the much smaller steak. He glances down, then looks at the steak in front of me. His eyes narrow, and it seems he’s taking it in for the first time.
Instead of bitching and demanding his steak back, he just picks up his knife and starts cutting into it.
I eye him with curiosity. Why is he okay with this? He should be angry.
He glances at me, then frowns.
“The food is already cooling down. Eat up before it gets to room temperature.” His order would normally piss me off, but I’m hungry, and I can’t shake that odd feeling.
It feels like every interaction we have just proves how different he is from Viktor. Even though they both lead criminal organizations, they’re complete opposites.
I slowly cut my steak and take a bite. I have to pause to take in the flavor. It’s exquisite. I start eating quicker, and by the time Dominic is finished with his small portion, I’ve already finished my large one.
Dominic looks at my plate and raises a brow.
“Looks like someone can put down a lot. You’ll be gaining weight in no time,” he muses.
I scoff.
“Did you just call me fat?” I’m beyond disbelief.
How dare he!
“No. You’re far too skinny. I’m saying eating here will fatten you up. I’ll make sure you get appropriate servings.” The smile on his face insults me further.
“First, I’m fat, now I’m far too skinny. Make up your damn mind!” I’m bellowing at this point, but it’s well deserved.
Someone chooses to walk in at this moment. A woman brings dessert to the table. I can’t help but glance down. The crème brulé looks really good, but now, because of this fucker, I can’t eat it.
“Go on. I won’t judge you for wolfing it down like you did dinner.” Dominic chuckles and picks up his fork. The woman’s eyes widen, and she scurries out of the room.
“I swear to God, Dominic, if you say one more thing, I’m going to lose it!” I’m practically shaking at this point.
“I have no idea what has you so angry, little doll. The steaks were delicious, and so is dessert. We all know you can eat, so go for it.” He gestures towards my dessert then takes another bite of his.
“What did you just call me?” I’m gripping my knife so hard my knuckles are white.
“Doll. Because you looked like a porcelain doll when we first met.” He smirks, clearly enjoying my anger. “But maybe ‘brat’ would be more accurate in this situation. Or would you respond to ‘wife?’”
“You motherfucking mudak!” My vision reddens. My hands shake. I’m breathing heavily.
“Now, now. None of that, wife. Be a good girl and eat, brat. Woof woof.” He throws his head back and laughs.
With a roar, I raise my hand currently gripping my steak knife and thrust it down onto his leg. It slices into his thigh like butter.
To my surprise and annoyance, he only lets out a small curse.
He looks down at the knife hilt sticking out of his thigh in disbelief. Then back at me.
“You crazy woman.” He grins as he says it, then laughs again.
I stare in horror, and a little pride, at what I’ve done.
I just stabbed my husband.
The head of the Syndicate.
In his house.
Filled with Syndicate soldiers.
I’m fucking dead.
I look at the door, not knowing what to do. I contemplate leaving, just to get away, but that seems cowardice. But do I need to find someone to help?
“No, no. You’re going to sit right here and watch what you’ve done,” Domonic commands.
I roll my eyes.
“I’ll do as I damn well please. You had it coming.” I look down at his thigh one last time and smirk. “You’re a big boy. You can handle this yourself.”
I wink at him, then skip out of the room. Not my problem.