Ignoring me only makes me want to get in her face even more.
And between her thighs.
“That’s what she is. It’s what you Volkov men do, you drag the woman to the altar and make her promise her life away. And in your case, you humiliate her to get the same result. I’m surprised, actually, that she hasn’t killed you yet.”
“Megan.” I steady my voice.
“Yeah?”
“Let me talk to Alexander alone please.” I push the door open and walk into the blessed heat of home.
The wind is fierce today, making it feel ten degrees colder than it probably is.
“I’m back. Sorry about her. The girls are actually a little pissed at you about those vows.”
“You weren’t all that kind to Megan at your wedding, either,” I remind him.
“Let’s not compare who’s the bigger asshole here. I feel like it’s going to be a tie.” He covers the phone and says something to his wife and Vee before getting back to me. “The sooner we land the better. I think Ivan is going to have a ruptured vein soon with these two. Not to mention Mira and Maxine.”
“Then I’ll let you go.” More than happy to, actually. My day hasn’t gone anything like I wanted.
And it’s all because of fucking Sienna.
I can’t get the woman out of my mind for more than two minutes before she saunters right back into it with those doe eyes of hers. The zoning commissioner I met this morning prattled on for ten minutes, but all I could hear was Sienna begging me to let her come over and over again.
“Tomorrow night.”
“Fine.” I end the call, drop my coat onto a hook and go in search of my wife.
I can’t let her get away with ignoring me all day. There has to be some consequence for it. Maybe I’ll make her kneel next my chair while I eat dinner. She can give me her full attention as penance.
I’ll be nice, though.
I’ll feed her from my plate. She can take little bits of food from my hand while she’s on her knees.
Naked?
My dick hardens at the thought. Then the image makes my balls pull tight, too.
I shove through the kitchen door, thinking to find her helping with dinner. But Mrs. Popova is alone, stirring a large, steaming pot with a wooden spoon.
“Where’s Sienna?” I must ask with more force than I intended, because I’m answered with a scowl.
“Hello to you, too.” She taps the spoon on the edge of the pot before placing it on the ladle holder and turns around. “Mrs. Volkov isn’t here at the moment.”
It sounds odd, hearing her called by her married name. Mrs. Volkov. I’d never taken the time to imagine what it would sound like, my wife being called that name. Mostly because I never intended to have a wife, not until this mess with Sienna’s family.
“Do you know where she is?” I ask, leveling my tone.
Mrs. Popova has worked for me for nine years. She was the first hire I made when I moved into my own home.
She reminded me of everything my own mother wasn’t. It had been an easy decision. But the way she’s scowling at me now makes me wonder if I’d been wrong. Her loyalty seems to be wavering.
“Kaz.” Sergei walks into the kitchen. “You’re home.”
I glare at him. “Yes. I am. But it seems my wife isn’t.”
He nods. “Yeah, she went out about two hours ago.”
