Ever since he came into my life, he has been trying to get me to choose myself, to voice my needs and actually fulfill them. And now, when I make such a drastic change, he doesn’t condemn me. He feelsgladI did it, even if it went against his wishes.
Part of me wants to throw my arms around him and repeat that kiss. But the other, still frustrated, part keeps demanding answers, an explanation for the way he acted and, most importantly, for disappearing on me. Again.
“If you think a piano and a compliment is going to cut it, you’re wildly mistaken,” I tell him.
A playful smile curves his perfect lips.
“Fair enough. Tell me, then—what would my wife deem payment enough for my behavior?”
“Everything,” I say, unblinking. “I want to know everything. Things you’ve never told anyone. The things that make you,you. It’s not fair that you know so much about me and I know close to nothing about the man I married.”
A low hum. “Steep price,” he says.
“Well, you should’ve asked the cost of your behavior before you went ahead and displayed it.”
He nods, his forest-green gaze curved with amusement. “Of course. Silly me.”
I raise my chin. “Your words, not mine, Mikhail.”
25
Cecilia
When I asked my husband to tell me things about himself, I didn’t expect him to take me out to Alemont City on the spot. But here we are, in his favorite restaurant—a cozy yet modern Eastern European place run by a family—at a lovely table by the window, where I can see the town square.
Before taking his seat, he drags my chair out, and I step in, facing the snowy view. It’s odd, seeing Mikhail in this place, all big, scarred, and tattooed almost from head to toe. He doesn’t fit in with the otherwise warm atmosphere, but I don’t fail to notice the way the servers acknowledge him as he rounds the table to get to his seat. Like they know him. Like they no longer fear him as much as they once did.
All the more reason to ask myself who he really is when he isn’t putting on his usual mask of recklessness.
“Welcome to Novo Nosh.” A young server with a notepad stops in front of our table. She doesn’t seem to look at either of us directly. “Will you be needing menus today, or…?”
Mikhail throws me a questioning look.
I could order whatever I want, and there would be no issue, but for some reason, I don’t want to choose here. I wanthimto show me what he likes best, to take me farther into this world of his that I long to uncover. So, I shake my head, deciding to trust him. And he understands.
“My wife will have the duck breast with sour cherry sauce and a glass of Pinot Noir. And Macallan 12 for me. Neat.”
“Certainly,” the server says, bowing her head a little before walking away.
Once it’s just the two of us again, Mikhail wraps his arm around the chair beside him and says, “That’s Briar. She’s legally blind—lost her sight when her piece of shit ex pushed her down the stairs.”
I frown. “Oh myGod.”
“She’s been working here ever since. It’s one of the few places in Alemont that accommodates visually impaired employees. Briar is not the only one.”
“That’s awful—that she had to go through that,” I say. “He’s in jail now, right?”
“Dead. Killed him myself after Rodion took his eyes out.”
I take a sharp inhale. What they did is brutal, but it’s not why I react this way. It’s because that dark, angry side of me is glad he didn’t get to live.
“Did you know her before that?” I ask.
Mikhail shakes his head. “Sometimes, I come here a lot just to think. At this exact table. Sitting right there, where you are now. Her ex kept coming in and out. She couldn’t get rid of him, even after what happened. So I did. Briar doesn’tknowknow, but I think she suspects it.”
And she isn’t scared of him.
“Why did you do it?” I ask. “If Briar wasn’t your friend, I mean.”
