I don’t like that I have to keep up with Kyle even in company matters. I grew that company, it was me, so why does he get to stick his nose in it?
“Kyle and Anastasia will help you in the company so you don’t slip in front of the employees.”
“Anything to help Rayenka.” She beams, and I smile back even though I want to tell Granduncle there’s no way I’d slip. I can’t, because that would blow the cover I’ve spent too long perfecting.
After dinner, we retreat to our room.
I remain near the entrance, arms crossed, as I concentrate on the situation and my options.
Kyle is already inside, removing his jacket and laying it casually on a chair—the same chair he fucked me over the other night while I screamed his name. I close my eyes to chase away the assault of the memories. That’s the last thing I need in this situation.
Focus, Rai.
Facing him, I speak in my sternest tone. “I want separate rooms.”
He doesn’t even lift his head, and I’m not sure whether or not he heard me, so I repeat, “I said, I want separate rooms.”
This time, he stares at me as he unbuttons his shirt, his fingers gliding on the buttons unhurriedly, almost like in some strip show. “And I want you to remember. Sadly, we don't always get what we want, Princess.”
“If you expect me to share a room with you, you’re crazy.”
“What’s so crazy about a married couple sharing a room?” He stalks toward me, his shirt half-unbuttoned, revealing the snake tattoo that’s rippling against his chest muscles. “Have you forgotten that we’re married?”
“I don’t remember that so you’re simply a stranger, and I can’t share a bed with a stranger.”
He halts in front of me, somehow caging me between his frame and the door. Kyle pauses at his fourth button, hinting at his chiseled chest, but not exactly showing it. And now I’m staring at his chest. Jesus.
I snap my head up, but if I thought his face would be easier to stare at, I’m proven utterly wrong. Maintaining eye contact with Kyle is like swimming against a violent current. I know I’ll probably drown or hit my head on a rock, but I still carry on anyway.
“Perhaps I should refresh your memories, Princess.”
“What?”
He grabs me by the arm and spins me around. I gasp as he gently pushes me backward and I end up crashing on the bed. The mattress is soft at my behind, but the impact feels like that current from earlier throwing me down a crushing waterfall.
Kyle hovers over me, his thighs on either side of mine as he grabs my wrists and imprisons them atop my head. I attempt to fight, but he’s caging me so tightly I cannot even begin to escape his brutal clutches.
I try to lift my knee and hit him in the balls, but he smirks as if figuring out my intentions and keeps my thighs pressed down with his legs. “Easy, tigress.”
Huffing, I turn my head away. I need a break from being caught in his gaze. Besides, this position and the familiar bed only remind me of the ludicrous things he did to my body night in and night out.
“Do you remember the first time we met?” Kyle asks in a low, slightly husky voice.
“No.”
“Right. You lost your memories.” He gently clutches my chin and forces me to face him. After he makes sure I’m staring at him, he slides his thumb beneath my bottom lip. “The first time I saw you was about nine years ago. You attended this Swan Lake performance by some European ballet with Nikolai, because he was infuriatingly Russian and liked to show it even in ballet performances. Adrian was there, too, because he’s interested in that for some reason or another. You had your arm in Nikolai’s and you wore gloves, white, like your dress. It was long and bright in the light, which reminded me of a distant image I thought I had long forgotten. Angels. Not real ones, but those from my father’s favorite painting. You were speaking animatedly to Nikolai and Adrian, discussing the performance. Your grandfather had laugh lines around his eyes as he listened to you. Do you know what I thought back then?”
My lips have been parted the entire time he’s been speaking, trapped in the calm way he retells our first meeting. I remember that day, because even though I thought he was another one of Dedushka’s ‘killers’, I was somehow caught in the gleam in his eyes, the way they darkened as if he were empty and trying to drag everyone else into that emptiness.
“No.” Instead of snapping, my voice is as calm as his. “And I don’t want to know.”
“I thought you looked like a typical mafia princess,” he continues, as if I haven’t said anything. “But I was soon proven wrong when I heard you talk to Nikolai. You weren’t spoiled or acting like a brat with privileges. You were straightforward, knew what you wanted, and went to it.”
“Telling me about the past won’t make a difference.”
“Yes, it will. How else are we going to get familiar with each other again?”
“Why should we?”
“Because you’re my wife and I’m no fucking stranger you’ll sleep separately from. If familiarity is what you need, then I’ll give it to you.”
“What if I need space?”
“I don’t believe in space. That’s a word invented by losers who couldn’t figure out their own minds.”
“And you have?”
“I have.” There’s so much conviction in his tone, it takes even me by surprise.
“So what now? Are you going to keep holding me like this?”
“I’m also telling you about the past.”
“The one I said I don’t want to hear about?”
“The one you want to forget about, but we’ll rectify that. Where was I? Right, the first time I met you, after the ballet. You don’t go to those anymore, because they remind you of Nikolai. The one time you went to one after his death, you hid in a corner and reemerged with your eyes red. Since they weaken you and you’re in no position to allow weakness, you stopped going altogether.”
He…he shouldn’t know that. I made sure no one saw me that way —not even Ruslan and Katia.
“So that’s the thing, Princess. I didn’t only see your strength, I also witnessed your weakness. It was bound to happen after Nikolai asked me to keep an eye on you when I wasn’t on a sniping mission. You were a proud thing and didn’t want to admit when you needed help, but you were a fast learner. You obviously enjoyed my company since you wouldn’t leave me alone, and that’s when you fell head over heels for me.”
Lying asshole.
I didn’t fall in love with him. The most frustrating part is that I can’t contradict him because that would mean I do remember.
“But then again, I’m the very loveable type, Princess.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“Every morning,” he goes on in his serene voice, “we woke up early and jogged together, then I taught you how to shoot for long distances because, as you said, Vladimir sucks as a teacher.”
He’s the one who said that, not me. Jesus. He tells a story so convincingly, mixing lies with truths. If I didn’t know my own memories, I wouldn’t suspect it.
“Needless to say, you fell in love with me more with every passing day. Especially after I kind of saved your sister.”