Ruthless Saint

XXXII

MIKA MALIKOV

        The light from the television reflected in the dim room. There was an old telenovela playing on the screen as I mindlessly stuffed a cupcake into my mouth.

It was a classic telenovela, and Anatoly had been obsessed with it for the past few days, finding any excuse to watch it.

        I didn't mind. After all, he'd offered me a place to stay after Mischa kicked me out of the mansion.

A week had flown by, and I thought for a minute his anger would have cooled down long enough for me to explain myself, but I was wrong.

He was still pissed off and effortlessly nonchalant and it pained me when he looked at me with that blank expression like we were nothing more than strangers.

        I stuffed another cupcake into my mouth. It was my way of coping with everything that transpired between us.

He gave me an out of the marriage and I was prepared to leave Russia.

I made it all the way to the airport and then turned right back. I couldn't do it. I was a fucking coward.

        The doorbell rang and Anatoly shot me a glance from where he sat. I raised a brow and shifted my gaze towards the television.

        "Lazy." He muttered under his breath but stood up anyways.

        I was mid-bite when I heard his voice. Black dress shirt and stormy grey eyes. He was standing by the doorway, towering over Anatoly with that cold expression of his.

        "Where's my wife, Anatoly?" His voice was hard and a bit impatient.

        "Boss."

        "My wife. Now."

        Anatoly's voice was a bit shaky. "She's not—"

        "If the next few words are what I think they are then rethink your decision to lie to me, Anatoly."

        They were quiet for a second before the next word fell out of Mischa's mouth.

        "Move."

        Anatoly hesitated for a second then stepped to the side. Mischa stalked into the apartment like he belonged in here.

The long drag of his Berluti's and the subtle hint of his cologne reached me.

He took a good look in the apartment before his eyes found me.

A muscle ticked in his jaw as his gaze coasted over my face then trailed down to my body. Tick. Tick.

        "Get dressed." That was all he said.

I was dressed. I was wearing an tank top and pants which apparently didn't meet his standard of dressing.

        Anatoly watched us with a raised brow but said nothing.

        "Why?" I asked.

        "Because we're leaving."

        My heart throbbed at the word we. I didn't know why because it was foolish of me to think he suddenly came for me because he forgave me.

Mischa was petty and he held grudges. I knew he wasn't here to let bygones be bygones and something about that terrified me even more.

        I stood from the couch then found my way towards the bedroom.