His Wicked Heart

Chapter Thirty-Nine

pulchritudinous
(adj.) breathtaking, heartbreaking beauty

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PRESENT

GENEVIEVE

"You're not nineteen," I nearly spat out the words, disbelief gnawing at me as I stared at the man sitting across from me. He remained rather nonchalant, only shrugging his shoulders as a playful smile crossed his face.

"I am. As I said before, I'm a lot younger than you," he said, bringing the steak near his mouth before taking a bite from it.

Mikhail Sokolov couldn't possibly be this young. He must be joking, isn't he?

Isn't he?

Oh my God.

Aleksandr let out a low chuckle from beside me, giving a light squeeze to my thigh, which was thankfully never seen by the others in the room. "Relax, baby." He whispered.

I shook my head at his teasing voice, deciding to just have my meal in peace.

Tonight was a weird day. Because I was having a nice dinner with the same family I had refused to accept just a few months ago.

After weeks of deliberation about what to do and what not to do, I decided to go with Aleksandr's suggestion. He was right when he said that family is something you only get once in a lifetime.

And I didn't want to die thinking, What if I just gave them a chance?

The room buzzed with chatter between Emi and Mikhail, his words evoking laughter from the older man.

Well, Emi did laugh at anything and everything, after all.

My father sat beside Mikhail, his comfortable silence somehow akin to mine. And last but not least, my aunt Maggie was seated to my right, a serene smile on her face as she took bites from her steak with her shaky hands. The blind woman seemed to have her own visions, which nobody in this room will ever be able to decipher.

Still, I was weird with this moment. Weird because I felt happy.

"Genevieve," my father's voice brought me back from my reverie, and I turned to look at him. "The meal was great, thank you, dear," he said, bringing a grateful smile to my face.

"My pleasure." I noticed that his meal was over, and I had completed mine as well. "How about I show you around?"

In response, he simply nodded as he stood up from his chair. I followed his movements afterward.

After a last glance at Aleksandr, whose eyes were already fixed on me, I stepped forward, not trusting myself not to blush under his penetrating gaze.

It had been a few weeks since I moved in with him, not because I was desperate, but because he was. It's not like I didn't want to move in; I just didn't want to rush things.

But in Aleksandr's words, we'd already wasted a year, so it was best not to waste any more time.

I almost snorted, remembering his sudden childishness about wanting me to settle in with him, but quickly composed myself as I realized that I was walking beside my father.

His movements were calculated, and powerful as he walked forward. Then he decided to speak. "I know it's probably not my place to ask, but I do wish to know," he continued after a brief pause, "Is he good to you?"

Rather than discomfort, his question left me with an odd feeling of solace. To which, I only smiled sheepishly and nodded. "Yes, I do trust him." I love him.