Aurora
For the next week, I stopped talking to Sergei, and I ignored Slavik when he decided to join me for dinner or anything else. We did end up going to two different dinner parties, but like the ones before, I was able to sit without saying a single word.
Dinner invitations were offered, but I declined.
I’d come to the conclusion I didn’t want to make friends with Slavik’s world. So by the second week after my decision, I sat on the sofa, bored out of my mind. I’d read so many books I couldn’t even remember a single title or author. The stories had been great but it was like I hadn’t really taken them in.
There was nothing for me to do but stay here.
Sergei stood a few feet away as I stared down at my feet.
I’d already done my workout for the day. According to the scales today, I’d dropped another couple of pounds. Even as my stomach rumbled, I ignored the growl. Eating was done carefully and controlled.
“You need to eat something,” Sergei said.
“I’m fine.”
“Starving yourself is not the answer.”
I lifted my gaze. “You shouldn’t be talking to me.”
“Come on, Aurora, don’t be like that.”
“It’s Mrs. Ivanov,” I said. I heard him tut, and I glared at him. “Do you know what my husband thinks? He thinks I was flirting with you.” I laughed. “I’m not going to give him the satisfaction.”
I hated him. He was an asshole.
I was so fucking bored. Five months of married life sucked. Not that being a daughter was any easy feat. Nope. Both sucked.
“You do know he is probably with a mistress right now,” Sergei said after a short pause.
This had me looking at Sergei. “What?”
He moved closer into the room. I didn’t stop him as he sat down opposite me. I moved my feet out of his room. Sergei had never been like this before, and I quickly glanced around to make sure no one watched. I didn’t know why I did this. We weren’t breaking any rules, but all of a sudden, this felt way too intimate. Like I shouldn’t allow this. Did it make any sense?
I wasn’t betraying Slavik, but with his accusations still ringing in my ear, I couldn’t help but feel like I was.
Other than my family, I’d never sat down with a man. Rarely talked to one that wasn’t my husband or blood related. In fact, Sergei and Ivan were the only two men I’d spoken to in my life.
Sergei put a hand on my foot, and I gritted my teeth, doing everything in my power not to pull away from his touch. My family had drilled into me at a young age that touch by anyone but my husband was bad.
“A man like Slavik has needs. They’re important to him. He’s not the kind of man who is going to enjoy straight sex. He likes it dirty. He’ll find an outlet with a woman who is not his wife.”
So my husband of five months was already cheating on me. I should have known. Why did it hurt so much?
“Have you … met her?”
“No. Men like Slavik are never at a loss for female company.”
I didn’t like the way Sergei rubbed his thumb against my foot.
Quickly, I moved, standing up. “Then I guess I should count my blessings that he’s finding his pleasures elsewhere. Excuse me.”
I left the sitting room and entered our bedroom where we slept side by side most nights. I wrapped my arms around myself. With my back pressed against the closed door, I slid down and stared at the bed.
Sex always sounded so good in the books, but in real life, I couldn’t imagine a woman enjoying herself. It was too … horrible and boring. After the two times I’d had sex, I didn’t care for a repeat performance. I hadn’t enjoyed it.
Running fingers through my hair, I pulled my knees up to my chest, resting my chin on top.
Time ticked by.
The only passing I was aware of was the fading light in the window shining into the room. I didn’t move.
My stomach had stopped growling, and the sickness had also faded.
My marriage was already over. He was screwing someone else. Probably a whole lot of something elses. I shouldn’t care. In fact, I didn’t care.
Then why the hell did my entire core feel like it was being torn in two? It made no sense. Slavik could go and do whatever the hell he wanted. I didn’t care.
The bedroom door was pushed open, and the force had me falling forward. I caught myself before I face-planted the floor.
Slavik entered. “What the fuck is going on here?”
I’d started to notice his accent appeared more pronounced when he was angry.
“Nothing.” I got to my feet and kept my back to him.
I didn’t want him to see me like this. I had to get myself under control.
When he grabbed my arm, I yelled and told him to leave me alone, spinning around to confront him. I wanted to hit him again, but the last time I did, there was a real threat there. This man killed people with his bare hands. I wasn’t a match for him.