Nikolai
My heart is pounding as I storm into the guest house, having cancelled my meeting with Dmitri only to find my wife curled up on the couch wearing the black shirt I gave her to sleep in last night, a tub of ice cream in her lap. She looks up at me, the rims of her eyes swollen and puffy as she scoops another spoonful of ice cream from the tub In Front of her into her mouth.
I set the bottle of Advil down on the coffee table and crouch down In front of her, cradling her face in my hands.
“You’re back,” she says, sniffling as She leans towards my touch, her eyes closing briefly at the contact.
When I got her text earlier, asking me if I could get her a bottle of Advil from the pharmacy, I expected to find her curled up in bed when I got back and not In front of the television surrounded by snacks and pillows with a red nose and puffy face.
“What’s wrong Solnyshko?” I ask softly, my heart clenching. I brush a teardrop from the corner of her eye and tilt her chin so that she’s looking at me. I hate seeing her cry. I realized the first time I saw her cry in my office, that her tears are something that I never want to get used to seeing.
Ava spent the day with Tatiana and the rest of the bridesmaids, including Faina, and while I wasn’t present when she left this morning, I arranged for a guard and a driver to take her to the meeting spot and back when she was ready.
After last night I knew she would have a lot of questions. Questions I wasn’t ready to answer yet. My mother’s death has been a sore spot for years, and I don’t think I’m ready to open up about what role I had to play in her death. It’s strange, but up until yesterday, I hadn’t dreamt about my mother in months. Just when I thought I was finally getting over what happened all those years ago I remember that it was her birthday yesterday and go and dream about her.
Leaving my wife in my bed this morning was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do, but It had to be done. I knew that She would have questions that I wasn’t ready to answer and I wasn’t ready to face the skeletons in my closet just yet
Dmitri was back from his business trip and requested a meeting with me this morning. I couldn’t say no because I knew what he wanted to talk about had to do with the latest development of the Irish in Chicago.
Before I went to sleep, Ivan had informed me that the Irish had broken into one of my warehouses. Unlike the Italians, the Irish have always been a quiet organisation. They’ve never been careless with their business and knew better than to mess with one of my warehouses.
Aaron Blackwood was still missing and with everything that has been happening recently with the Iris, something tells me that his disappearance isn’t something I should take lightly.
Two hours ago, Tatiana had informed me that my wife had discarded Faina’s plans for plans of her own. Which I have to admit takes guts. Faina can be pushy, especially when it comes to her schedules, so the fact that she let my wife leave halfway through the day only further aroused my suspicion that something was wrong. Getting Ava’s text message asking me to pick up a bottle of Advil for her was the final straw so I cancelled my meeting with Dmitri and rushed home.
My wife bites back a sob and points to the television behind me. “it’s the show,” she croaks, her bottom lip quivering as fresh tears fall from her eyes, “They killed him”
She’s crying over a show? The corner of my lips twitches and relief floods me instantly. Here I thought she was sick or something happened to her but she’s crying over a stupid show.
“It’s not stupid” she snaps, fixing me with a stern look. It’s only then I realize that I have said the last part out loud.
“Of course it isn’t, Solnyshko,”, I say, rubbing her thigh in an up-and-down motion, not knowing what else to say.
Her hair is tied up in a loose bun on top of her head, but strands from the knot manage to fall down her face, covering her deep brown eyes.
“Everything was going great.” My wife sniffles, “Emilia was finally going to pick James and then they just kill him off, out of nowhere, like he was nothing.”
Fresh tears spill down her cheeks as I set the ice cream on her lap on the table and pull her in my arms. “Shh, shh, it’s fine, yeah. Everything is going to be alright.” I murmur, running a hand up and down her back. “Maybe they’ll bring him back next season.”
It’s a weak offer but the only one I can manage, given the circumstances.
“There isn’t going to be another season.” She cries even harder, burying her face into the lapels of my suit. “This was the final season.”
I glance back at the television. The credits are still rolling on the screen. I guess threatening the producers to rewrite the script is always an option. Anything to see her smiling again. I note the producer’s name as it pops up on the screen and make a mental note to have Ivan track down his whereabouts.
She lets me hold her until her sobs gradually subside into soft sniffles.
When her shoulders finally still, I ask, “Feeling better?” She nods, her fingers twisting the fabric of my suit between them.
“Good,” I murmur, adjusting us so that I’m seated on the couch beside her and she’s sprawled on top of my chest.
The black shirt she’s wearing rides up slightly on her body, and my mouth twitches at the sight of her black lace panties peeking out from underneath the fabric.
Ona pytayetsya menya ubit’. (She’s trying to kill me.)
My hand lowers, skimming over the edge of her panties with my index finger. She shivers against me, her fist tightening around my jacket.
“I didn’t have anything to wear underneath.” She says and I nod, humming thoughtfully. Seeing her in my clothes was one thing but knowing she’s only wearing her panties made me want to burn all the clothes she brought with her to Russia so that she’d be forced to roam the house in nothing but mine.
Now there’s an idea.
I glance around the living room, taking in the bottle of Advil beside the assortment of snacks and the half-eaten tub of ice cream spread over the coffee table.
“Did you have any real food to eat since you got back, Solnyshko?” she shakes her head. No.
“I have a headache”, she murmurs, and I press a soft kiss to her temple before I can stop myself.
I expect her to pull away after, but she doesn’t and only buries her face into my suit, muttering something I can’t make out.
“How about I order takeout while we find something else to watch?”
She sniffles, pulling back and looking up at me.
“Something like what?”
I shrug. I wasn’t much of a movie watcher but I’m sure there had to be something else we could watch. The television in the guest house already had a Netflix subscription, so I’m pretty sure she can find something on there for us to watch.
“Isn’t there anything else you’d rather watch?”
Her lips curl up slightly, a ghost of a smile, making its way through the lingering tears, “Well, now that you mention it, there is this one movie that I’ve been meaning to watch”
“What’s it called?” I ask, lifting a brow, my curiosity peaking.
She hesitates, then fiddles with the end of my tie. “It’s called Falling For You. It’s this new romance movie Cara’s been raving about lately. It’s a little cheesy based on all the reviews I’ve seen so far but I’ve been curious to see what all the fuss is about.”
Cheesy Sounded right up her alley.
“Sounds great. Give me a second while I order dinner, Solnyshko”
She pulls back fully, her hand resting on my chest and her eyes wide with surprise, “Wait a minute You’re watching with me?”
I furrow my brows, gently tucking a stray curl behind her ear. Frowning I ask, “You don’t want me to?” Her gaze darts along my face, and an unreadable expression crosses her features as she rests back on her heels.
“Well, no, it’s just that you don’t strike me as the kind of man who enjoys cheesy rom-coms”
I want to tell her that for her, I’ll be any kind of man she needs. But instead, I shrug my shoulders and slip out from underneath her weight.
“Rom Coms are my favourite genre, Solnyshko,” I say tossing her a roguish grin
She eyes me sceptically, “Really?”
“I’m just full of surprises, aren’t I, Solnyshko?” I shoot her a smirk before sliding out my phone from my back pocket and scrolling to the delivery app.
“Now, tell me what you are in the mood to eat”