I feel closer to him now more than ever, to the point that I’m impatient to go back home just so I can see him. All the chaos in the company and my secret search for the embezzler all fade to the background when I’m with him.
In Kyle’s arms, I feel light, protected, and…peaceful.
I tell myself that’s why I long for his merest touch, and not the fact that my sexual drive has become insatiable lately. Sometimes, I want to restart as soon as we finish, and that’s not normal, especially since he exhausts me to the point of no return.
To say I completely trust him now would be a lie. After everything he’s done, it’s hard to take his word for granted. He didn’t only lie to me, he also used me, and that doesn’t just go away.
I might be unable to kick him out of my life, but I can’t completely accept him. At least not until I make sure everything he said is true or that his intentions are no longer nefarious.
I need to get to the bottom of that, even if keeping this whole thing a secret from Sergei is eating at me. Not only do I not like keeping him in the dark, it’ll be dangerous if he finds out I’m hiding critical information. When it comes to choosing between family and duty, the latter always comes first for the Pakhan.
But I’m sure he’ll forgive me if he knows I’m doing this for both my husband and the brotherhood. I already told him and everyone else that I regained my memories, so he has to wait a bit longer for the rest.
They all wondered how Kyle got beat up, and he came up with a lame excuse that some ‘brute’ thug and his ‘stupid’ minions ganged up on him. He said they looked worse than him, something for which Vlad nearly shot him there and then.
After showering and dressing in a white shirt and a black pencil skirt, I sit at my console to do my makeup. I’m starting to miss the toy between my legs—or more like, the feel of Kyle with me at all times. While I meant that I will kill him if he embarrasses me by using it in front of the Vory members, I did like the added excitement. Or this could be another manifestation of my weird sex drive.
After finishing, I stand up. My heel catches on the ground as the world starts spinning. I hold on to the console with shaky fingers and close my eyes for a brief second in order to regain my composure.
When I open them again, my room comes back into focus. That was weird. I need to eat in case some vitamins are missing from my body. I’m generally not the best when it comes to self-care.
I step out of my room and stop at the bottom of the stairs at the sound of hushed tones. I’m not one to eavesdrop, usually, but the two people speaking hold more importance than that principle.
My back flattens against the wall as I slowly peek around the corner. Kirill and Damien are standing toe to toe by the balcony’s door that leads to the garden. They either forgot the door was open or they don’t care.
Damien is shoving a cigarette in his mouth with clear detachment in his green eyes. He has flecks of gray in them when you look close enough, but they’re not visible from this distance.
His posture is nonchalant, but not hunched or completely detached. Damien is the type of person who’s always ready to punch someone here, shoot someone there, and bury someone somewhere.
Kirill, on the other hand, is an erect wall, standing with his hands lying limp by his sides. It’s the body language he usually feigns to make the other party believe he is approachable, harmless, even. That fox is cunning even when it comes to his body language. He’s fully aware of every move he makes, unlike Damien who doesn’t care what image he projects on the world as long as he gets to inflict violence.
The reason I’m standing here is the utter weirdness of the view. Damien and Kirill have never gotten along, not in Dedushka’s time and not now. They were always reprimanded for the endless fights they caused at the table.
Kirill leans more toward Igor and Adrian. Damien is a lone wolf who doesn’t get along with anyone—except for maybe Vlad a little. Well, and me when he wants to be a pain in the ass.
The fact that they’re talking one-on-one is suspicious. The absence of their closest guards who follow them like shadows is one more reason why I should be privy to this conversation.
Kirill readjusts his glasses with his middle finger. While they’re thick-framed, they don’t hide the intensity of his gaze. “What’s your deepest, darkest desire, Damien?”