Kirill doesn’t want to see me.
When Viktor first told me I wasn’t welcome in the boss’s company anymore, I don’t know why I thought he was joking.
Surely, it was some sort of a mistake. Yes, I’d anticipated that Kirill’s reaction to what happened in Russia wouldn’t be pretty, but I didn’t think he’d go as far as…completely erasing me from his surroundings.
It’s been a week now since he fully woke up and even started conducting business deals from home as if nothing had happened.
Karina and Anna always try to forbid him from that, but no one can change his mind if he sets it on something.
I know because I’ve tried countless times to visit him, talk to him, or just see him from afar, to no avail.
Viktor is always by his side like unbending steel. Whenever I ask him for a mere minute in Kirill’s presence, he shuts me down so quickly and harshly that my pride is wounded.
Yes, it’s true that Viktor doesn’t like me—or anyone, for that matter—but this silent treatment wasn’t his idea. It was Kirill who ordered him not to let me approach him.
I stare out of my new prison—the weapon vault—at the small, secluded garden, where no one comes near. Maksim and Yuri only show up because I’m here. Otherwise, they wouldn’t step foot on these premises.
Before I was forced to this place, I vaguely knew it existed.
The only staff here are me and two older men who are no longer in-field bodyguards. We’re tasked with taking the weapons and ammunition up to the rest of the guards. However, Viktor clearly ordered me not to show my face upstairs and to let the two men handle the deliveries.
Even my stuff was moved from Kirill’s suite to a small room in the basement of the weapon vault. So I can’t get together with the guys. It’s like I’m being caged without actual bars.
That, combined with the fact that this house is fucking huge, has ensured that I’ve only managed to see Kirill twice and only from a distance when I’ve snuck around at night. The first time, I saw him standing by the window of the clinic, his merciless eyes staring blankly into the distance.
I wanted to go inside so badly, but the sight of the other guards made me change my mind. They’re under strict instructions to stop me from coming in contact with the boss, and if they don’t do as they’re told, Viktor might go as far as firing them. At least, that’s what Yuri told me.
My friends asked why I was relegated to weapon vault duty, and I said it was because I defied a direct order and, as a result, put Kirill’s life at risk, which is why he got shot.
Yuri thought it was odd the boss didn’t fire me, and Maksim said, “If he’s only punishing you, then it means he still wants you around, so hang in there.”
That’s the hope I held on to as I snuck around like a spy.
When I saw him at that clinic, I stayed there as long as possible, greedily memorizing every inch of his face—his eyes covered by the black-framed glasses, his stubborn nose, his square chin, and his mouth that was set in a line. I wanted to touch his knitted brows and relieve the tension lurking there. I wanted to lay my hand on his chest and make sure his heart was working properly and that the haunting faint sound I heard when I was taking him to the hospital had actually disappeared.
I wanted to do many things, but most of all, I wanted to look into his eyes and have them look back into mine. Even if it was in anger or contemplation or whatever his emotions are toward me. I didn’t care as long as he actually looked at me.
This silent treatment and complete apathy are hitting me harder than any anger he could express. I was ready for his physical punishment, but I had no clue the mental effect would be ten times worse.
The second time I saw him was when Karina invited me to her room for lunch two days ago. It was around the time when Kirill leaves the clinic and goes back to his room in the mansion. I was on pins and needles hoping to see him. Although I paced the hallway with Karina for a whole ten minutes, not only did he not leave his room, but Viktor also showed up and kicked me out, then said, “The house and its premises are forbidden. You only have access to the weapon vault’s immediate surroundings. Are we clear?”
It didn’t matter how much Karina protested. The titan was on a mission and was only satisfied when I left. It was either that or cause Karina needless stress.
However, on my way out of the mansion, I caught a glimpse of Kirill at the top of the stairs. I swear I felt his eyes on me, but when I looked up, he turned and walked away.
My heart and soul have been bruised ever since he came up with this torture method. It’s worse than if he’d hit me or let the others physically torture me.
I could handle that. His indifference, however, is proving to be my undoing.
Maksim keeps telling me that it’s just a phase and he’ll get over it.
But how can he get over it if he refuses to see my face, let alone talk to me?
How am I supposed to clear the air between us and make amends if he won’t listen to what I have to say? Over the past two weeks, I’ve thought of many things that I want to tell him. Maybe it would be futile, but I need him to hear me out.
Just once.
So I wait until after my hours for the day are done. Usually, I go to my new room in the lonely basement that could be mistaken for solitary confinement. Then someone from the kitchen delivers my food since I’m not allowed in the other guards’ quarters. After finishing dinner, I toss and turn all night or train until I’m physically exhausted and eventually pass out.
Usually, my nights are plagued with nightmares. Some of them are about Mike, but most of them are a replay of Kirill being shot and the gruesome images of his bleeding chest and unconscious face at the bottom of that hill. I wake up with tears in my eyes and a heart so heavy, it feels like it will burst.
Tonight is different, though.
During the last few days, I’ve spent time planning how to get around the security cameras and sensors installed all over my route to the mansion.
So now, it takes me minimal effort to avoid them. I have no doubt that Viktor has someone specifically watching my movements so he can stop me whenever I get too close.
Still, I spend about fifteen minutes getting to the mansion because I was basically put at the farthest point of the property while still being inside it.
I head to the back of the main building and use the bushes as camouflage. Once I reach my destination, I ensure my surroundings are clear and silently crawl to the huge tree closest to the house. Then, after one last look around me, I grab onto the trunk and climb.
I always told Kirill that this tree is a security hazard because any sniper could use it as base to attack the property, but he said it actually strengthens the security because it offers privacy.
At any rate, I’m glad he didn’t listen to me.
Once I reach the level of his balcony, I realize that the distance to the ground is actually greater than I thought. I stare down and wince at the height—about three stories. If I fall, there won’t be any happy endings.
I start to scoot across a branch that’s less sturdy than I anticipated and suppress a yelp when it breaks. Two other branches catch my fall and once I get my balance, I leap toward the balcony. My left leg hits the railing, and I nearly stumble out, but I dig my fingers into the wall and glue myself to it before I jump onto the balcony as silently as a ninja. I don’t stop to inspect my injured leg, but I do lift it off the ground to keep from putting weight on it.
The balcony door is closed, but voices speaking in Russian reach me from inside. The first is Viktor’s—gruff and unwelcoming—but the second…my heart picks up speed, and I have to tap my chest to be able to breathe properly.
It’s been so long since I listened to Kirill’s steady deep voice, and although I don’t hear the words clearly, I can’t help leaning in. I’m no different than an addict who’s finally getting a hit after nearly two weeks of deprivation.
If this plan doesn’t work, then I at least got to hear his voice. He’s alive. He’s right here.
And nothing will change that.
Whenever I close my eyes, I only see his dying face. I can’t erase it, no matter how much I try. But this…witnessing him speaking, might help keep him alive in my nightmares.
A few minutes later, Viktor’s voice disappears. Then so does Kirill’s.
But I know he didn’t leave. I can feel his presence in the room and even sense a hint of his warmth through the walls.
Him being alone gives me the opening I’ve been waiting for, but now that it’s here, I can’t bring myself to move.
I remain in place for what seems like forever, forcing my limbs to step forward but unable to move. After a few moments, I finally clutch the handle of the balcony door, inhale deeply, then slide it open.
The sound is heightened in the silence, and I pause for the time it takes me to fit myself in the opening.
Then I slip inside soundlessly and freeze when a gun clicks at my temple.
Shit.
I underestimated Kirill. Since he was injured, I thought maybe his reflexes would be slower, but the weapon pointed at me proves that those thoughts are a far cry from reality.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Slowly, I start to turn to face the owner of the cold question, but he pushes the gun against the temple.
“You don’t need to change your position to answer.”
“Can’t I at least look at you?” I hate how my voice sounds so emotional and weak.
Even if he’s harsh and indifferent. Even if he’s holding a gun to my head right now.
“No,” comes his closed-off reply.
Still, I turn.
“I said. No.”
“And I want to look at you.” I lift my chin. “So if you’re going to shoot, do it.”
The more I continue turning, the faster my heart beats. I know he won’t shoot me. If he wanted to kill me, he would’ve done that when he woke up. He wouldn’t have chosen to torture me by depriving me of him.
Sure enough, the moment I fully face him, he’s lowered the gun to his side.
I’m rooted to the spot as if struck by lightning due to being able to look at him closely. All of him.
Although he’s wearing casual sweatpants and a black T-shirt, neither can conceal the masculine perfection of his physique. He’s lost some weight due to the injury, but his build has retained its charismatic edge.
Tattoos in the form of skulls, roses, and a human heart swirl along the visible parts of his forearms and biceps, but they don’t look hauntingly black now.
The color has returned to his face, and his lips are no longer pale and chapped. His hair that’s usually styled currently falls over his forehead and brows. He’s also grown a thicker stubble that complements his cut jawline.
But something else leaves me gasping for air.
It’s his eyes.
They’re…different.
While not as lifeless as when I last saw them when he woke up in the hospital in Russia, they’re also not those intense eyes that caused my stomach to drop whenever they fixated on me.
My stomach is dropping now, but it’s due to knots of dread and anxiety building up. Because these eyes? They’re cold and apathetic. Almost like…a stranger’s.
And that hurts worse than a gunshot wound. I realize now that while I’ve been missing him like crazy and going out of my mind worried about him, he probably hasn’t even thought about me.
“What the fuck do you want?” he asks with that lethal voice again.
I motion my chin at him. “I wanted to see you.”
“You saw me. Leave.” He starts to walk to the bathroom, but I jump in front of him, arms open wide.
“That’s all?”
His expression remains the same, except for a smidge of annoyance. “Should there be something else? A ceremony in your honor, perhaps?”
“Kirill…please.”
“It’s Boss or Sir. You have zero rights to call me by my first name.”
My spine jerks upright, and I have trouble swallowing past the lump in my throat. “I know you must have a lot of questions about what happened in Russia, and while I can’t answer all of them, I promise to answer as many as I can. You have my word, I would never—”
“I have no questions for you. I got my answers in the form of two bullets.”
His calmly spoken words trigger the claustrophobic sensation I had when he was shot on that hill. My chest constricts, and it feels as if I’m falling down a spiral, unable to put on the brakes. That’s when I realize I’ve been shaking my head. “That’s not…I swear I didn’t know. I wouldn’t…have gone there if I’d known. I’m sorry that you were shot because of me. I have no clue what I can do to make you believe me, but I’m willing to do anything.”
His eyes taper to a frightening blue—a color that I’ve never seen in them before. For a moment, I think he’ll shoot me with the gun in his hand, after all.
Maybe he’s figured out that keeping me alive has no meaning and it’d be better if he finishes me off.
But instead of doing that, he speaks with deceptive calm. “What’s the name of the man who was beside you? I’m not interested in the mercenaries. I want the identity of the man who shot me.”
My lips part, and I stand there unblinking. How did he figure out the men were mercenaries when everyone’s face was covered? But then again, Uncle Albert was the only one who shot at him with the sole purpose of killing him. So he must know that he’s the one with a vendetta against him.
Sometimes, Kirill’s intuition really frightens the hell out of me. I often wonder just how much he knows and how much he doesn’t.
He steps forward, filling my space with his addictive cedar scent. It’s a welcome change after the stench of death that he picked up from the hospital. “You said you’re willing to do anything.”
“Disclosing his identity is the only thing I can’t do,” I whisper.
Uncle Albert is still my family, and even though I protected Kirill from him, I have to do the opposite as well, because I have no doubt that Kirill will kill him if he finds him.
One moment I’m standing there, then the next, Kirill wraps his fingers around my throat and slams me against the wall. Air is knocked out of my lungs as he towers over me, his breathing harsh and his eyes blazing. “Is this some sort of an elaborate plan between the two of you? Did he put you up to spying on me and then, when the time was right, ask you to lure me to his den?”
Shit, shit.
How does he know that? Did he already figure out my family ties?
Even though Uncle Albert was initially against me coming to New York, he was practically using me as a spy after I told him I was getting close to Kirill.
“So it is true,” he says in a frighteningly low voice. “Let me ask you something, Aleksandra.”
I hate my full name. I never did before, but now that Kirill only uses it when he’s mad at me, I loathe it from the bottom of my heart.
He advances further into my space until his chest almost touches mine. “Was seduction part of the plan, or did it only happen because I was convenient?”
“No, no…that’s not—”
My words are cut off when he squeezes his fingers, effectively cutting off my air supply.
“Shhh.” His voice comes near my ear like a whip. “Shut the fuck up. I could and should kill you right now.”
Oh, God.
Is this how I will die? Staring at these cruel eyes that I once dreamed would soften?
“I should choke the living fuck out of you and watch as your eyes turn blank, just as you stood there and watched while he shot me.” His fingers sink into my skin as he tightens his grip. “But I won’t. You know why?”
I shake my head, my eyes nearly bulging out.
“Because you’ll eventually lead me to that motherfucker. Mark my words, I will kill him in front of your fucking eyes even if it’s the last thing I do.” He releases me with a shove, and I fall to my knees on the floor, coughing and splattering on my choked breaths.
When I stare up at him, it’s like I’m looking at a raging monster.
I’ve always thought of him as one, but this is the first time I’ve actually been afraid of him and what he might do to reach his goal.
“You should’ve let me die while you had the chance.” He leans down and squeezes my chin between his harsh fingers. “I’ll make you regret playing with me when I turn your life into a living fucking hell.”
