Ruthless Saint

XXIII

      
MIKA MALIKOV

   "Mischa, please."

        "No."

        "Mischa—"

        He shot me up with a glare before I could finish my sentence. "How many shoes could you possibly need?"

        "It's a new edition." I murmured.

        A narrowed gaze from where he sat. "That's what you said last time."

        I opened my mouth to refute his statement, but I had indeed said that last time. Last time being last week. The only time I felt free was when I went shopping.

It was the only silver of space I could have to myself without Kolya following me around like a hawk.

        Sometimes I went shopping because it was the only time, I got to observe normal people. People who didn't walk around with a target on their back and violence lurking at every corner.

I wondered what it felt like to be able to choose the person they wanted to fall in love with without prejudice?

        I slid into the stool across from Mischa. He was typing away on the computer, in a casual attire that'd nearly sent me falling to the ground when I caught a glimpse of him this morning.

My husband wasn't a t-shirt and jeans type of guy but here he was, looking all gorgeous in a white T-shirt and dark faded jeans.

        All the ink on his sleeve was exposed to the world, causing me to look a little harder.

        He must have felt me watching him because he lifted his gaze from his computer and paused mid-typing. "What?"

        "You look normal."

        The corner of his lips tipped into an amused smile. "Went for a run with Roxy."

        "Without me?"

        "You can't get out of bed till noon, lisichka."

        He was right but still it was rude. I didn't go for runs or any form of physical exercise, but it would have been nice to receive an invitation.

        I unwrapped a red lollipop and watched as Leonid walked into the kitchen. Ever since Mischa made a huge deal about my hair, he'd been a bit wary whenever we were having a conversation.

I suspected Mischa had something to do with it, but I hoped he hadn't hurt him.

        "Hi, Leonid."

        He paused by the doorway with a smile. "Mrs. Malikov."

        Mischa stopped typing. His gaze flew to the door with a look of indifference. He stared at him for a second too longer than necessary before he resumed typing.

        I smiled the perfect Costello smile. "Are you busy?"

        "Uh—no?" Leonid gave me a confused look.

        "Want to take a trip?"

        "Mika."

        Mischa stopped typing once again, shifting his focus towards me. His gaze was murderous as it fixed on me, and I shrugged a shoulder. "You said you didn't want to go."

        A muscle ticked in his jaw. "I said no."

        "Yeah." I gave him a confused look. "You said no so I asked Leonid instead."