Two weeks have passed, and although it’s a significant amount of time, it doesn’t feel like it.
I think it’s because of how little has happened, but at the same time, it feels like a lot.
As promised, Sergei had Damien start his attack on the Irish. It was savage and merciless, like Damien’s character. We only lost two men, but the Irish lost more.
The Italians are currently by our side, but the Yakuza and the Triads are still reluctant about a war they don’t belong to.
Vlad asked me to talk to Kai since he seems to be open to negotiation. However, Kyle wasn’t very fond of the idea. He didn’t like the thought of me having a one-on-one with Kai.
For now, I will just agree with him because he is recovering, but in the long run, I know we can’t survive on our own. If the Irish bring in their allies, the Luciano family alone won’t be enough.
Other than the attack, we’ve been somehow blissfully living our lives. Kyle and I wake up early and take walks, or we go through V Corp’s numbers with Ruslan and Katia. I’m surprised by Kyle’s way of conducting business; he knows the ins and out at a level that rivals mine. When I asked him how he learned these things, he said it was from his ‘family’.
The one he told me about the other day. For the first time ever, he talked about a part of his life I had no idea about.
In the midst of our uneventful days, I’m far from relieved. If anything, I feel like it’s the calm before the storm.
Anastasia told me the storm already happened during the shooting at dinner, but why do I have a premonition like that’s not even the beginning of it?
Two days after the attack, Katia told me that they couldn’t get a DNA sample from Igor’s glass of wine because she was interrupted during the attack and wasn’t able to preserve the DNA. I was too preoccupied with Kyle to get another sample of Igor’s DNA during his recent visits, but I’ll eventually have it.
That moment when I saw Kyle lying in his own blood, all I could think about was that I’d lost him right after I had just gotten him back.
So, during these past couple of weeks, I’ve been at his side as he slowly recovers. I haven’t gone to the company a lot, and even when I do, I bring my work back home with me.
It’s not easy to juggle two lives at the same time, but I make it work so Kyle can get back on his feet again.
His recovery has been going smoothly. Even Dr. Putin said he has a strong immune system.
Last night, during a dinner with the leaders of the brotherhood, Sergei officially named him as his honorable councilor.
Though there was no formal ceremony, the fact remains that Kyle is now part of Sergei’s closest circle. If it were a few weeks ago, I would have been suspicious of how close Kyle has gotten, but after he put his own life on the line to save mine and Sergei’s, it’s not possible to.
Little by little, the bridge that was already broken between us has started to build again. For the first time since our marriage, it feels like there’s something to salvage between us, a connection of sorts that’s not directly connected to the physical department.
Don’t get me wrong, there’s inexplicable energy about having sex with Kyle. It’s freeing in a way words can’t describe.
Only a few days after being shot, Kyle insisted on fucking me—he wouldn’t stop talking about it every time we were in the same room. As a result, I attempted to get on top and ride him so he wouldn’t hurt his wound, but he suddenly flipped me over onto my back and fucked me until I screamed his name.
It’s become a habit since then. I try to ride him, and he goes with it at first, giving me a sense of power, just to snatch it away a few minutes later. It’s not really about the power anymore—for me, at least. I’m more interested in the tension and the connection that blossoms between us whenever I’m in his arms.
For Kyle, it’s most likely about the power and the control that comes with it. He likes it when I fight him in bed just so he can subdue me.
He gets off on seeing me powerless. He gets off on holding me by the throat. He gets off on having me underneath him, screaming or moaning his name, begging him to stop or go faster and harder. He gets off on those things, and he’s not ashamed to admit it.
I’ve become so addicted to that side of him, the side that lets go completely even though he’s injured. On one of those nights, he didn’t stop; he literally had the stamina of a youngling on Viagra. I was less concerned with the delicious soreness between my legs, and more scared that he would rip his stitches out and we would have a bloodbath on our hands.
Thankfully, that wasn’t the case, but I overestimated my endurance ability and was barely able to walk the following morning. Kyle teased me about it during the entire walk. His eyes twinkle with amusement whenever I rise up to the challenge. Our banter can last for an eternity if we’re not interrupted.
Our morning walks around the garden started as a sort of physical rehabilitation for Kyle, but with time, it’s become something I look forward to every day. There’s a peace in having my arm around Kyle’s waist and just talking, even if we clash most of the time.
Today, I woke up early so I could help prepare breakfast. It’s been a long time since I cooked, but I try my hand with the kitchen staff and ignore the weird glances Katia and Ruslan keep throwing my way.
So what if I’m doing something out of the norm? It’s true that I haven’t done it since I came to live with Dedushka, but I used to cook just fine when I was living with Dad. That was sixteen years ago, so my memories aren’t exactly that perfect, but it will work.
I make some pancakes and toast with jelly. Well, some of the toast is a bit burnt, but Kyle doesn’t have the right to complain after I did all this for him.
No—I’m not doing this for him. I’m just doing it because I feel guilty about what happened to him because of me. That’s it. That’s all.
After preparing the picnic basket, I hold it and attempt to go upstairs, but I find Kyle already waiting for me at the entrance. He’s wearing his usual black pants and a white shirt.
The clothes and the bandage hide his injury, but I can almost see the hole currently lodged in his chest.
The images of him being shot rush back to the front of my mind, and I have trouble getting them out. It’s not until his very distinctive scent overwhelms me that they slowly dissipate.
Kyle places his hand on my arm as he usually does every day. “Morning, Mrs. Hunter.”
“Morning. Are you feeling better today?”
“Are you still asking that after I fucked you till you tore the sheets yesterday?”
“Kyle!” My face burns, and I instinctively check our surroundings in case someone heard.
“What?”
“What if someone is listening?”
“Then they have voyeuristic tendencies. Is auditory porn a thing?”
“You’re hopeless.”
“For having sex with you? I’ll take that badge with honor.”
“For being this shameless about everything.”
“We’re already husband and wife. It’s universally known that fucking is included in that holy union.”
He is incorrigible. There is no way I can get him to stop saying these crude things. The more I try, the more creative he gets about getting on my last nerve.
But is he really getting on my nerves if I secretly enjoy this side of him?
“Can we go now?” I ask.
“Not yet. I need to know how my beautiful wife is today.” His voice drops with seduction. “Did you have a good night’s sleep with my cum inside your tight cunt?”
“Stop it.”
“Why? You didn’t mind when you were moaning ‘harder, Kyle’ in that fucking sexy voice of yours.”
My blood flows to my ears and my core at the same time, and even though I try to fight the effect, I can’t. Truth is, a strange sense of arousal invades me when he talks in this brazen way that has zero cares about the world. The only people who matter to him are the two of us.
“So?” He nudges me with his elbow. “You didn’t answer my question. How are you this morning?”
“Sore,” I whisper.
“You’ll be sorer as soon as I get you in our room.”
“You’re still recovering, Kyle.”
“I’m as immortal as the devil. You don’t have to worry about that.”
That’s the problem—I do worry. I worry he already escaped two bullets and that the third will definitely take him away.
I push those ominous thoughts out of my head by focusing on him.
My husband.
My previous guard who turned into my husband.
I don’t know if it will ever be normal. After all, we’re not a normal couple. We didn’t start the ordinary way, and our world is anything but a fairy tale.
However, after he told me why he left me—because he thought I was cold toward him—something inside me softened. It might have to do with that or the promise he made about not leaving me again, or the fact that he put his life on the line for me—not once, but twice.
He was ready to face death on my behalf.
A part of me, the part that was trained by Dedushka to be naturally doubtful of everything, tells me I shouldn’t trust Kyle this readily. I shouldn’t put my life in his hands like I did once upon a time.
But the other part—the twisted, screwed-up part that falls into his arms every night—wants me to stay with him every second of the day. That part misses him when I don’t see him for a few hours. That part lets him consume my body like it’s always been his to feast on.
And he does feast on me.
Kyle’s stamina knows no limits, not even when he’s wounded and bandaged and far from being entirely healed.
It doesn’t matter whether he brings me pleasure with his dick or his toys. Both have the ability to provoke sides of me that were hidden, up until now.
I know people say the physical and emotional aspects are separate, but they’re not for me. I never once thought my body was disconnected from my heart, so ever since the first time Kyle stimulated my body, he touched something inside my chest, too. With every unapologetic fuck, he lodged himself in even deeper.
We sit at a bench underneath a large Ailanthus tree, and I place the basket between us. The sky is clear, the occasional cloud blocking the sun now and again.
“Is there poison in it?” he asks with a playful gleam.
“If you want poison, I can gladly get it for you.”
“Hey.” He pinches my cheeks and keeps his hand there as he speaks. “Don’t be offended—I was only kidding. Has anyone ever told you you’re uptight, or are they too scared of you to say the words?”
“I’m not uptight. I’m just realistic.”
He releases me, but not before stroking my cheek. “Which is another word for uptight, but I digress—only slightly, though.”
“Stop being passive-aggressive.”
“I’m British, Princess—passive-aggressive behavior is in our nature.”
Shaking my head, I retrieve the pancake container and slide it toward him. Kyle takes a bite, and I wait with bated breath for his reaction. He doesn’t wince, so that’s a good sign. However, he pauses chewing.
“What? You don’t like it?”
“No. It’s just…it brought back a taste from a long time ago.” He smiles a little. “My mum used to make these and even had her own special recipe.”
“Dad used to make them. He said that before he made his fortune, he was a broke student and pancakes were a luxury breakfast he had whenever he got paid from his part-time job. In a way, they became special to me, too.”
“Do you think you would’ve had a different life if you stayed by his side?”
“Probably. But if I had, Reina wouldn’t have survived here, and I wouldn’t have met Dedushka. I spent the most exciting days of my life with him, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. At the same time, I missed Dad and Reina all the time. It doesn’t make sense, I know. On the one hand, I loved Dedushka, Sergei, and Ana, and on the other hand, I wanted Dad and Reina.”
“It makes perfect sense. You just wanted your entire family with you. That’s why you can turn heartless when it comes to protecting them.”
I stare at him for a beat, incredulous. I never thought he’d be able to figure out my angle this easily.
He’s too observant sometimes, and it’s both scary and comforting. Right now, it’s definitely leaning toward the latter.
I retrieve a piece of pancake to stop myself from reaching over and hugging him. We silently eat for a few seconds. The sun peeks out from between the clouds and glares down at us. Kyle places both his hands in front of my face, shielding it from the rays until the sun disappears behind another cloud.
His way of protecting me can be over the top, but I can’t help smiling at his serious expression as he does it.
We continue eating in silence, enjoying the nature, the calm, and the birds singing in the distance. A few guards bow upon seeing us, and we greet them back—well, I do. Kyle keeps glaring at each and every one of them.
I pour myself a cup of juice and take a sip. “Why do you seem like you’re plotting the best way to kill them?”
“Because I am.”
“Why would you?”
“They look at you funny.”
A chuckle escapes me. “I’m their boss. They don’t look at me funny. ”
“Yes, they do.”
“You’re just being paranoid.”
“And you are being so unaware of your beauty.”
I pause with the straw halfway to my mouth. It’s not the first time Kyle has called me beautiful, but it never feels normal. “What does my beauty have to do with this?”
“If it weren’t for your fucking beauty, I wouldn’t want to rip out the heart of every bastard who looks in your direction.”
I lower my head, not knowing how to answer that. I have no clue what to say when he talks in this possessive way.
“So don’t make their fate worse,” he continues.
“How so?”
“Don’t talk to them, or flash them your smiles—those should only belong to me.”
“You are too much.”
“And you are mine.”
I’m stunned into silence again, so I gulp my juice in one go, which makes Kyle grin.
He then takes my hand and places it on his thigh before he intertwines our fingers together. His thumb strokes the back of my hand in a rhythm that makes me breathless.
“How was it?” he asks with complete calm.
“How was what?”
“How was it after I left?”
“It was fine.”
He gives me a funny look.
“What?” I puff my chest. “Did you expect me to explode in tears and tell you it was a tragedy?”
“You’re being defensive.”
“No, I’m not. I’m merely answering your question, and the answer to that question is that I was just fine.”
I hide the fact that my life seemed to have lost something crucial: meaning. I might have reached every goal I set, but there was no excitement.
At some point, I realized something was missing, but I didn’t know what that was until he showed up again in the dining room claiming to be Igor’s son.
Kyle brushes his lips against my temple, and I shiver as if I’m standing in the middle of a snowfield during a freezing storm.
“I wasn’t fine,” he confesses against my skin. “In fact, I was miserable. I missed you.”
A mixture of emotions clogs my throat. I clear it before I speak. “Why would you miss me?”
“Well, let’s just say I got used to your stubbornness and your take-no-nonsense attitude and how much you challenged me every step of the way. I missed waking up every day to find you at my door demanding that I teach you something. I missed how you looked out for everyone around you, even though you tried to make yourself as discreet as possible so they didn’t feel uncomfortable with it.
“I missed how you treated your guards as family members and how you never made them feel inferior. But most of all, I missed your smile.” He grins. “As rare as it is.”
This time I can’t control the feeble sound that escapes my throat. This time, I feel like I will fall to pieces in his arms.
“Did you miss me?” His voice is low, and is that a hint of vulnerability I hear?
When I don’t answer, he continues, “Are you ever going to forgive me?”
I manage a smile. “Keep trying.”
“Well, I am trying every night, though for different reasons.”
“What are you trying to do?”
“Hello? I’m obviously trying to put an actual baby in you. Imagine everyone’s surprise when they find out there was no baby in the first place.”
“That would be impossible.”
“Why’s that?”
“You really haven’t noticed that I use birth control pills?”
“Of course I have.”
I laugh. “Then how the hell do you expect me to get pregnant?”
“A little thing called a miracle.”
“Miracles won’t be happening any time soon.”
“We will see about that.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” He feigns nonchalance. “But I promise you that one day you will have my baby inside that womb of yours while I worship you.”
“Not if I have a say in it.”
“Hmm.”
“What does ‘hmm’ mean?”
“I have another promise for you.”
“What type of promise?”
He raises my hand to his lips and brushes them against the skin. “The type where I will never leave. And if I do leave, you’re coming with me.”
