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“Who knows?”
“Stop messing with me. How could you do that?”
“How could your precious brother torture Maksim? He’s lost so much weight and all of his spark, I almost didn’t recognize him when he came back. Don’t you think he deserves closure?”
“You’re just inflaming the situation and making it much worse than it already is.”
“I’m only playing the role of a dark horse of justice. Nothing more. Nothing less. Besides, I told Viktor no torture. So rest assured.”
I’m not confident. He’s relaxed, which is never good news for whoever is against him.
“Now, let’s go. We’re late for a very important announcement.”
“What type of announcement?”
“You’ll find out shortly.”
He starts to grab me, but I step out of his reach. “You need to seriously stop trying to touch me.”
“Why would I stop touching my wife?”
“Your touch disgusts me, for starters.”
“Is that so?” He tilts his head to the side. “Isn’t it, perhaps, the exact opposite?”
I jam my forefinger into his chest. “You mean nothing to me anymore.”
He clutches my hand and is about to kiss the back when I pull it away. “Stop touching me. I mean it.”
Kirill raises his hands as if in surrender, but the gesture is mocking at best.
Is it just me, or did he become tenfold more infuriating in the span of two months?
The moment we get to the main living area, I pause. Everyone, and I mean every single member of the guards, stands near the door, led by the mountain Viktor himself.
Well, everyone except for Maksim.
Did Kirill really assign him as Anton’s guard?
I don’t have the capacity to think about that as I also see the members of the staff standing opposite them with Anna at the front.
Konstantin, Kristina, and Karina are sitting on the sofa, and even Yulia is there, crossing her arms and appearing displeased with the world as always.
As soon as she sees us, her expression changes to that of utter loathing. “What is the meaning of this—”
“Sit down, Mother,” he cuts her off.
“I will not have you tell me what to do, you devil. How dare you have your brute man bring me out here by force? Do you know who you’re dealing with?”
“I have an idea. But you’ll know exactly who you’re dealing with if you don’t sit down this instant. I won’t repeat myself another time.”
Karina shakes and inches closer to Konstantin as droplets splash from her cup of coffee. She’s always been this unfortunate mess of nerves around her mother.
I really hate that woman.
She’s vile, heartless, and has caused her own daughter irreparable damage. Hell, she did the same to Kirill, but probably worse. It would’ve been much better if they’d never had a mother.
Stop it. You’re feeling bad for him when that should be the last thing on your mind.
Konstantin grips Yulia’s hand, and that’s when she reluctantly sits back down.
I try and fail not to look at the guards' expressions. They must be shocked about the transformation, even though I’m technically the same ‘Sasha’ they’ve known for years.
“I gathered you all here to announce something of utmost importance.” Kirill’s commanding voice confiscates the attention of the whole room.
Even my own back snaps upright before I catch myself.
Stupid old habits.
Kirill slides an arm around the small of my back and clutches my hip. Shivers break out on my skin although layers of clothes separate us.
I’m about to push him away, but then he says, “Sasha is my wife. From today on, you’ll respect and protect her as you do me.”KIRILL
S
asha has been actively avoiding my presence, touch, and company.
In fact, she could bag an award for being irritatingly consistent in her no-touch rule.
It’s been a week since she returned to the place where she belongs—by my side.
However, there’s no sense of closeness whatsoever. Yes, she’s here in body, but her soul is either scattered somewhere or she’s suppressing it until it’s almost invisible.
She goes to sleep before I do with her back facing me. If I try to touch her, she slaps, hits, or pushes me away as if I’m the most disgusting thing to ever exist.
It doesn’t matter how many methods I use or how far I go to reignite any form of connection.
The more I try, the harder she works to demolish those plans.
I know she’s forcing it. I can feel it in the subtle tremor of her skin whenever I touch her. I see it in her parted lips and chameleon eyes. I hear it in the hitch in her breathing whenever my body is near hers.
But she’s determined to not give in to those emotions.
Sooner or later, she will.
I won’t give up until she becomes my wife again.
Lately, she’s been spending time with the guards, catching up and what-the-f**k-ever. I don’t like that she smiles with them, Konstantin, Karina, and even damn Kristina, but those smiles are never directed at me.
Have I considered punishing my guards for that very irrational reason? Absolutely. The only problem is that no matter how much I subject them to my wrath, it won’t change Sasha’s position toward me.
The day I announced to everyone that she’s my wife, she stiffened in my hold as if I were announcing a death sentence.
The others had all sorts of questions, to which she answered that she had no choice but to be a man. But now, she’s snatched back her power and is choosing to be herself again. She also apologized for ‘lying’ to them all this time.
Admittedly, they took it a lot better than I expected, probably because they already knew she was a woman after I buried her fake body. Their acceptance, however, brings up the issue that she’s too close to them for my liking.
The same applies to the damn members of my organization. We just finished our general meeting and I brought her into the dining room, held her by the waist, and introduced her as my wife.
Most of them have their mouths open, except for Rai, who has the audacity to pull my wife from my grip and hug her.
“I knew your time wasn’t up!”
Says the woman who’s been threatening me with bodily harm every time she’s seen me because she thought I’d killed my wife.
Even I started to believe that damn theory deep in my deranged heart.
I thought I’d taken things too far and I was paying the price for my failure.
Sasha hugs her back, though tentatively and with enough awkwardness to show in every line of her delicate face.
My wife has never been the best with social interactions—at least, not when it comes to touch.
- Writer
