His Wicked Heart

Chapter Thirty-Seven

toska
(n.) an immense ache for nothing and everything at once; an anguish from the bottom of the heart

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PRESENT

ALEKSANDR

I love my brother, really. I loved him more than ever. We were sons of no bastard. So, we might be cruel, but not monsters.

But the acting of an asshole he put up on that day had me wanting to really beat him up this time, especially now that Genevieve had isolated herself in her house. For the past three days.

When I tried to reach her, she left only one message for me which nearly turned my life upside down.

Gen
I need some space.

The clock ticked behind me, time fading with each passing second, as I kept staring at the message  that had been flashing on my phone screen for hours, hoping, yearning for another text from Genevieve to appear.

Well, I had been doing this for three days, but to no avail.

No messages, no calls had come.

God, I was really losing it. I had zero patience when it came to matters concerning Genevieve.

The possibility of that woman leaving me again always made me break out in cold sweats, like the earth was hell itself, and its fire was slowly consuming me.

At least I knew she hadn't left Moscow yet. But I was sure I wouldn't survive another day without seeing Genevieve Antonova in the flesh.

For God's sake, I love that woman. And I don't care.

Genevieve isn't stars and sunshine. I don't need her to be. I'd rather prefer eclipses and dawns.

And for the hundredth time, if she doesn't pick up her phone now...

"The number you're calling is currently unreachable, please try again-"

"That's it."

I restrained myself from throwing my phone against the wall and got out of bed. After leaving my room, I pulled out a pair of clothes from my walk-in closet and put them on.

Then I headed downstairs, determined to go to Genevieve's house. She can get angry at me if needed be. But even if it's her wrath, I'll face it.

In the downstairs kitchen, I found my brother sitting behind the counter, as peaceful as ever, sipping that hideous green drink from his glass. He was probably aware of the torment he had caused me, yet he acted like he didn't know.

Asshole.

When he saw me glaring at him, all he did was smile in my direction and offered me his glass. "Let's start our happy morning with a glass of wheatgrass juice, brother."

"With what kind of soil were you made of?" I was visibly disgusted by the atrocities he was drinking. The man drank wheatgrass juice like it was water. Might as well drink poison and survive. Therefore, should I just...

Nevermind.

"Come on, grumpy boy, you need to drink healthy and live healthy," he said, sighing right after, as dramatic as ever. "Can't have my big brother die on me, can I?"

I forced a smile, though inside, I felt like kicking him out of my house right now. Having him in my house would decrease my lifespan automatically. And trust me, even that juice wouldn't be able to help with that.

"How absurd," I tsked, pretending to be disappointed. "Only a weak man would rely on some grass to live long."

Emi burst into a manic laughter, as if he had never heard anything funnier. "Dude's never heard of the words 'love yourself'," he snickered again before adding, "Seriously, get a life, Ale."

I rolled my eyes, never finding any enjoyment in letting the man know that it was he who needed to get a life, or whatever.

However, then I remembered the actual reason I was standing here. I cleared my throat, trying to think of the most straightforward way to tell Emi about this.

"By the way," I started, pulling him out of his reverie. "Would you want Genevieve to be a part of our family?"

By family, I meant just him and me. As much as Emi's opinion shouldn't have mattered regarding my affairs in life, it did. Because it had been him and me for fourteen years.

I had to get over our parents' death sooner. As the elder brother, I had always felt it was my responsibility to look out for Emi and his comfort, and it definitely was a responsibility of mine.

I had watched him shut himself completely down after our parents' death. For five years, I saw this man struggling, and I found myself utterly helpless to do anything about it.

The Emi I see today was never like this. And it would be worse than a nightmare if he ever went back to how he was before, especially if it happened because of me.

I would never make him feel left out. Not again.

We were brothers. And before anything else, we mattered to each other the most.

If Emi denied, I'd keep Genevieve out of his life. But I'd also have him know too that she would be the only woman in my life.

It's either her, or her.

No one else.

Emi raised an eyebrow, his unreadable expression causing all the emotions inside me to crumble. The more I tried to anticipate his reaction, the more he seemed to shut himself off.

Then, as if finally getting out of his self-made daze, he cleared his throat. "Look," he sighed, seemingly overwhelmed. "As tempting as Genevieve is... I wouldn't want to take her as a wife, brother. I mean, she's clearly not interested in me, and I'm not into her either-"

"Zatknis."

This man could make your urge to have a nice chat with him vanish in a moment. He only laughed at my frowned expression before downing the whole glass of wheatgrass juice in one gulp.

Then he stood from the stool, making his way toward me with a sheepish grin. "Go," he said when he stood in front of me, resting his hands on my shoulders, and he continued, "Claim her, Alpha."

I'm a weak man when it comes to holding back my urge to snap my brother's neck sometimes, but anyway.

I pushed his hand off my shoulder. Then I headed towards the exit of my house, messaging my men on the way to bring out my car.

I already knew what he wanted.

However, just as the gate of my house opened, my breath caught at the scene in front of me, or more accurately, at the person.

Time always seemed to stop when we looked at each other; it was nothing new. But just like always, I found myself lost in the pair of hazel eyes that stared at me with the same bewilderment radiating from her bewitching gaze.

Genevieve, moya dorogaya.

I was crazed, she crazed me.

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