I was expecting f*****g Aleksei to come grovel at my door the second he got home. But no, he doesn’t come to talk to me.
I give him an hour of rest. One hour. Then I storm out of my room, marching toward the lift that leads to the fourth floor. It dings open, and Katya steps out.
Drenched in gold and nude, her beauty slaps me across the face. She looks like the opening shot of a perfume commercial: glowing skin, sleek hair, the perfect smirk.
I stop short and stare, and grudgingly admit she really is drop dead gorgeous. Her ego and rotten personality is absolutely earned. God, how can someone be this beautiful?
"Oh, it’s the little wifey," she says with a sugar-slick smile. The perfect picture cracks, and the devil pokes through with a sharp, toothy grin. "I heard you made a fuss all d
