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This is the only one I keep. I reach out with my hand and trace the long thornless stem wrapped in a yellow silk ribbon with gold details.
I hope
she won’t run off screaming upon seeing me, because I will be chasing.
I curve an eyebrow, then take the pen from his hand and sign my name. Bianca Orlov. It’s done.
I don’t think I’ve ever met such a composed, controlled person. His face is completely expressionless. I can’t deduce anything from it. Is he angry because I was staring at him? Or maybe he doesn’t give a damn. Strange, strange man.
My actions are petty, I know, but I couldn’t control myself. No one gets to speak like that about my husband.
“Now, let’s clear up a few things,” Mikhail says. “You touch my wife again, in any way, I cut off your hand. I hear you speak badly about her, I cut out your tongue. You dare to even think about hitting her ever again, I cut off your head. Am I clear, Bruno?”
The story has something to do with a lost horse, but I don’t pay attention to the plot because I’m too focused on the tone of his voice. Deep. A little raspy. I close my eyes and just listen.
And his voice . . . it feels like a caress by itself. He has an accent, I realize. It’s subtle, but it’s there. I love it.
Such an enigma, this husband of mine.
He reminds me of a panther—big, black, and seemingly relaxed—but I have a feeling that underneath all that composure and calm, there is a beast.
Mikhail turns his gaze toward me, looks down at my hand on the work surface, then tilts his head to the side, offering me his chin. Slowly, I reach out and brush away the remnants of the flour using the back of my hand, taking slightly more time than necessary.
The neural pathways in my brain must have snapped and rearranged themselves, because in that instant, I decide I’m done. My issues with skin contact can go fuck themselves. I grab Bianca’s hand, pull her to my side, and wrap my arm around her. Not close enough. She’s not close enough. I tighten my arm around her and stand with her back plastered to my front. The pressure in my chest eases. That will do. I don’t need a shrink to interpret my actions. When a man has already lost all he’s held dear, it’s normal for him
to become slightly unhinged and scared it may happen again. The fancy guy looks up, his eyes widening upon seeing my murderous look. Yes, motherfucker. She’s mine.
Always a gentleman, this dark husband of mine.
“You take my breath away,” he whispers in my ear.
If I was a better man, I’d send her away, annul the marriage, and set her free. I guess I’m a bad man, though, because I don’t plan on letting her go.
He crosses his arms, places his fist over his mouth, shakes his head, and then bursts out laughing. It’s rich and throaty, and I can’t take my eyes off him. He’s so beautiful when he laughs. “Hold out your arms,” he says.
“Ty luch solntsa v pasmurnyy den’, Bianca,” he says into my lips, kisses me again, and slowly lowers me to the ground.
“You are crazy, solnyshko.” Nope, not crazy. Just in love with him.
“V tvoyikh glazakh kusochek neba, solnyshko.”
“It means, ‘there is a piece of the sky in your eyes.’”
“Ty zazhgla ogon’ v moyey dushe, solnyshko.”
“It means, ‘you’ve ignited a fire in my soul, Bianca.’ And if we don’t leave immediately, we won’t be going at all.”
Do you know what people are calling you two? The beauty and the beast.
“Yes.” I grip the side of the marble counter with all my strength, wrap my legs around his hips, and lean back as Mikhail destroys me, piece by little piece. And the destruction has never felt better.
He’s in love with me. I know it without him telling me so. It’s visible in his every single act.
I don’t care if I first met him only a month ago. I don’t care our marriage was arranged as a business deal without my say in the matter. I. Don’t. Care. He’s mine, and I’ll fight anything and anyone who tries to keep him from me, even if it’s Mikhail himself.
“Because I am in love with you. Every part of you. Your grumpy personality included. Fucking deal with it.”
“Ya lyublyu tebya vsey dushoy, solnyshko,” he says into my ear. “Ya ne pozvolyu nikomu zabrat’ tebya.”
“I love you, too, baby.” I take her face in my palms and touch my nose to hers. “You can’t imagine how much.”
