“What do you think you’re doing?” Damir Mikhailov roars behind me.
Reluctantly, I lower my hands and turn to face his fury. His eyes flick past me, and his anger surges even higher.
“You made her cry again,” he grits out.
“No, Papa.” She rushes forward and steps in front of me. Her mass of red hair brushes against my chest. “I was just having a nightmare. You can ask Nana.”
A smile touches my lips. My wife is shielding me from her father. I feel lighter, as if tonnes of weight have lifted off my chest.It isn’t impossible between us.If she can protect me, then she can love me.The possibility exists, fragile but real. One day, she will willingly come back to me. I don’t know how long it will take, but I’m ready to wait, even if it takes years.
Hope is a dangerous thing. A flicker of it can pull you back from death.
“Fine, Kroshka. I believe you,” he says, “but this man is not going near you before I allow it.”
I want to argue, to tell him he can’t keep me away from my wife. But I know it won’t lead to anything good, and the small hope I just felt will be snatched away as well.
She turns her head and looks at me.Does she think I’ll protest?There’s uncertainty in her eyes.
“Do you want me in your father’s good books?” I ask quietly.
She nods.
I look up. “I’ll listen to you, Mr. Mikhailov. I won’t go near your daughter. But could you allow me to stay on your property?”
He nods, still cold. “Stay in the guest house. From tomorrow, I’ll start your test. I should have done that before letting her marry you, but I thought the son of Alessio must have learned something from his father about how to treat his woman.” His jaw tightens. “I was never more wrong.”
This is the first time in my life someone has spoken to me like this while still standing on their own two feet. And I’m not even feeling anger.
He looks toward my Angel. “Come with me.”
She gives me one brief glance, then follows her father toward the back door of their small house.
A hand presses on my shoulder. I turn to see an old woman. I know her, she is her Nana.
“Damir gets angry very easily,” she says gently, “but he cools down just as quickly.”
I nod.
She smiles. “You are a good young man. I can see you keeping her happy.”
I return her warm smile.
chapter 35
Iselyn
Mom somehow managed to make Papa agree to let Matleon eat dinner with us. Now Papa is glaring at him, and he is staring at me. The more he looks at me, the angrier Papa seems to get.
Mom is smiling from the other side of the table. I catch her giving Papa reassuring looks now and then. I honestly don’t know what kind of horrible murderer my father would have turned into without my mother balancing him out.
We eat the entire dinner in silence. I feel nervous, excited, happy, and confused—all at the same time. This chaotic mix of emotions leaves me barely eating anything. Matleon hasn’t eaten much either. He’s a big man with a huge appetite, someone who usually eats enough for four men, but tonight he’s eaten even less than I have.
Every time my eyes drift to his plate, I notice how little food is gone. And every time I lift my gaze to his face, I find him already watching me. It sends a flutter through my stomach.
“Since you’re done eating, you can go to sleep now. Traveling must have tired you,” Papa says, his tone unmistakably hostile.
Matleon nods. “Good night, Mr. and Mrs. Mikhailov.”
Mom offers him a warm smile. “Good night, son.”
