“No, you’re drunk,” Gleb said, his voice edged with irritation.
“This is a very important meeting, Anna.”
I tilted my head, my lips parting slightly. “I see. Your meeting is more important.” I exhaled through my nose. “I’ll just go, then.”
I jumped down from his lap, turning to leave, but before I could take a step, his hand caught mine. He pulled me back, settling me onto his lap, his breath warm against my ear.
“Don’t interrupt, okay?” His voice was low, but the possessiveness in it sent a quiet thrill through me.
His hand moved to his mouse, ready to resume the call.
A small, pleased smile tugged at my lips. He hadn’t pushed me away.
The screen flickered back to life. Gleb gave a brief apology for the interruption, then waved it off, telling the men to continue. They barely acknowledged my presence, their voices resuming as though I weren’t even there.
The meeting dragged on, the men’s deep voices blurring into an incomprehensible hum. Gleb’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the desk, his other hand resting on my hip as if to keep me still.
At one point, I shifted slightly, my legs tingling from staying in the same position for so long. Gleb’s grip tightened in silent warning.
“Stay still,” he murmured, his breath brushing against my temple.
My stomach fluttered at the closeness, but I obeyed, watching the conversation unfold as if I were merely a shadow in the room.
Gleb would murmur something in Russian, his voice calm but authoritative.
I traced slow patterns on his sleeve to distract myself from the growing stiffness in my muscles.
When it finally ended, he leaned back with a sigh and turned to me.
“Thank you.”
I raised a brow. “For what?”
“For staying quiet.”
I shrugged. “Well, I’m just glad you didn’t push me away.”
A thought struck me. “So… now they know I’m your wife?”
He nodded. “Yeah. It doesn’t really matter. They’re in a different country, and we’re not threats to each other.”
He shifted slightly, stretching his legs.
“Did I hurt your legs?” I asked, suddenly realizing I’d been on his lap for two hours.
He smirked, “You think you weigh that much?”
I huffed, crossing my arms. “It’s a valid question.”
He stood and stretched again, but this time, there was a faint stiffness in his movements. “I’ll live.”
With his fingers still loosely wrapped around mine, he led me out of his office.
When we reached the bedroom, he turned away without a word and disappeared into the bathroom.
He returned minutes later, towel in hand, moving with slow, deliberate precision as he cleaned up. I watched in silence, every motion calculated, distant.
When he finally slipped into bed, he pulled the duvet over himself, but before he could settle, I reached over and yanked it off him.
Then, in one smooth motion, I climbed on top of him, straddling his thigh.
A low, surprised groan escaped his lips.
I tilted my head, studying him. “Are you allergic to sex?”
His lips parted slightly. “No.”
“I turn you on, I’ve seen it. So why are you always holding back?”
He didn’t look offended. If anything, he seemed… reflective.
A long pause stretched between us before he finally spoke. “The past didn’t just kill my heart. It killed everything else, too.”
My breath caught.
His voice was steady, but I could feel the weight behind his words. “My mother and father divorced when I was little. In our world, men have more value than women, so naturally, my father claimed custody of me and my sister.”
“You have a sister?”
He nodded. His entire body seemed to tense. “Yeah.”
A strange look crossed his face, something heavy, as if he’d been carrying this burden alone for too long.
“I was too young to understand how much it destroyed my mother, losing custody of us. When I finally saw how broken she was, I tried to fix it. I begged. But I was just a kid. And in our world… kids don’t get a say.”
He paused. His fingers drummed against the sheets, as if debating whether to continue. Then, finally, he spoke. “After my parent’s divorce, I lived with my father for a few years, but he was a drug addict. Not just any addict, he was deep into it. The kind of drugs that destroy a person’s mind. He barely ate, barely functioned. Eventually, he became aggressive. He started forgetting things. Losing time. He would go days without food, but as long as he had his drugs, he didn’t care.”
A chill ran down my spine. “That sounds…”
“Hellish?” He let out a dry laugh. “It was.”
I swallowed. “So what happened?”
“It got so bad that I begged Uncle Antonio to take us in. But my father won’t allow it, not both of us. He said he’d only let me go, not my sister.”
His jaw clenched. “That day… the day I left? It was the last time I saw her.”
“Gosh… I’m so sorry.”
His voice was calm, but I could feel the pain beneath it. “The day I left for Uncle Antonio’s house, she was crying. Silent tears. She didn’t even beg me to stay. She just… watched me leave.”
I felt my own eyes sting. “You never tried to find her?”
“I was just a kid. I had no power.” His fists clenched. “Two years later, my father died. Overdose.”
My breath hitched.
My family believes an Italian spy poisoned him. The fingerprints of an Italian were found on his cup. It’s one of the many reasons they hate your family so much.”
The weight of his words settled over me.
“After two years at uncle Antonio’s, I left his house to search for my sister. I looked everywhere… cried for days. But she was gone.”
A tear slipped down my cheek. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s been over a decade. I still have people searching for her. I pay them weekly. If she’s alive, I will find her.”
A deep ache formed in my chest. “You will.”
He exhaled, his fingers tracing slow circles on my back. “My mother eventually took me in. But she wasn’t in Moscow. She lived in Finland, near the Russian border.”
I hesitated. “Are you… comfortable telling me all this?”
He studied me for a long moment. “I am. Because you aren’t like your family. You don’t deserve my hostility.”
I nodded slowly.
His voice dropped lower. “You wanted to know why I’ve never touched you. Why my body feels dead?”
I leaned down, my lips brushing his ear. “You can tell me another time.”
His arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. I felt the steady rise and fall of his chest, the quiet tension in his muscles.
I buried my face against him, my heart aching for the man beneath me. How much had he lost?
His voice was barely above a whisper. “You aren’t crying, are you?”
I rubbed my face against the pillow, hiding the wetness in my eyes. “No. I’m not crying.”
But I was.
When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the emptiness beside me. The warmth of his body was gone, the sheets cold. My stomach clenched. Where was he?
And… I was covered with a duvet. He must have placed it over me before he left.
I sat up and swiped open the window, seeing the soft hues of daybreak. Had he left without telling me?
I freshened up quickly, the question still nagging at me. Has he gone for another business trip? A sharp pang of irritation ran through me.
Downstairs in the dining area, Zoya greeted me.
“Good morning, Anna. Would you like me to bring you breakfast?”
I shook my head. “I just want coffee. But I’ll make it myself.”
She followed me into the kitchen. “Are you sure? I can make it for you.”
I turned on the coffee machine. “My legs may be weak, but my hands still work just fine.”
Zoya nodded. “Okay, if that’s what you want. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
I glanced at her. “Do you know where Gleb went?”
She hesitated for a moment before answering. “It’s family dinner night,” Zoya said. “He never misses it.”
Compulsory family dinner? He never mentioned that.
“Oh. Thank you,” I murmured. At least he hadn’t left the country this time.
I took my coffee to the dining area and drank it quietly. the warmth spreading through me. Four months ago, I couldn’t have stood here making my own coffee. Now, I could stand for minutes at a time. Small victories.
After finishing my coffee, I wandered to the library, hoping to find something new to read. A historical novel set in 1880s Russia caught my attention. The blurb intrigued me, but as always, I flipped to the last page first. Tragic ending.
I sighed and shoved it back onto the shelf. reached for another book, skimming the back cover. Boring.
Another. Predictable. I sighed, my fingers drifting back to the first book.
Fine. If I was going to cry, I’d at least be prepared.
Curling into a chair, I opened the book and began reading.
The male lead, the emperor at that time, was rumored to be the devil’s brother. His past six empresses had died after their first night with him. Doctors had examined him, searching for an explanation. None had found one.
Some believed he was cursed. Others thought he was a murderer. But the imperial court had given him an ultimatum, produce an heir or lose the throne.
I turned the page, already hooked.
His mother, desperate to secure his rule, found a dying female serf on the streets. Bruised, broken, left for dead. She had been discarded by her abusers, her body and spirit shattered.
The empress offered her a choice. freedom in exchange for marriage.
The serf agreed. If she was going to die, she would die an empress.
A knock suddenly came at the door, jolting me out of the story. I gritted my teeth in frustration. Who interrupts someone in the middle of a six-hundred-page book?
“Busy!” I yelled.
The door swung open anyway.
Gleb.
My irritation faded instantly, replaced by something softer. But before I could say anything, I noticed the figure standing behind him.
My breath caught. My fingers tightened around the book.
Maria. My sister.
My world tilted. I hadn’t seen her in months. I hadn’t thought I ever would again.
