Okay, I got to live another day.
Aralina glared at her brother and walked over to me and clasped my hand. She was a godsend and a buffer between me and her brother, and I was relieved to escape. But I had only made it a step past Kirill when his strong fingers gripped my arm.
“Not this time, Arinka.” He nodded to Kolya. “Catch up with Kolya. After five hours in the car with him, I need my sweet wife to change my mood.”
I bristled. That last statement teemed with sexual innuendo, which had no place in our marriage. His evolving tactics kept me on my toes.
Before I knew it, we’d been married for three months.
“Told you we should have used the plane,” Kolya scoffed. “Come on, Ara.”
Aralina signed at me. “Are you sure?”
I knew a bit of ASL from my time in Georgetown, and I’d been brushing up on it with Kirill’s sister, so I understood simple questions. I hadn’t planned on endearing myself to Kirill’s family, but their acceptance happened organically. It was the one thing that made my contentious relationship with my husband bearable.
“I’m—”
“She’s my wife. She would hardly come to any harm.”
I wasn’t sure about that, but I nodded vigorously.
Aralina pointed two fingers to her eyes before reversing their direction toward Kirill in the universal gesture of I’m watching you.
“Christ, get out of here.”
Sato lingered behind, and a silent conversation passed between him and my husband, and then he too followed Aralina outside.
Kirill’s fingers were still digging into my arm. It didn’t hurt, but it didn’t allow me to pull away without concerted effort. His overpowering presence made me uneasy. That was why I tried as much as possible to avoid being in a room alone with him because of my conflicting feelings about him.
“Shouldn’t we?—”
“What’s the hurry?” he asked in a silky tone that spun around my throat and tightened it. Not in fear, but in blasted anticipation. Because if I were honest with myself, this battle between us was exhilarating.
I might want to stab Kirill with that letter opener, but a part of me also wanted him to fuck me the way he hated me. Oh, shit. Thinking of fucking him sent arousal pulsing between my legs. Was that why they said hate-fucking was cathartic?
I swallowed. “Because the food’s gonna get cold?”
He smirked, and perched on the desk, and pulled me between his legs, trapping me. “Again, what’s the hurry?”
“What are you doing?” I tried to win back a semblance of control. Even sitting down on the desk, Kirill was taller than me, but I didn’t have to tilt my head very far to meet his eyes.
“Having a private moment with my wife.”
“What game are you playing at?”
He chuckled. “Games? Let’s talk about the games we’ve been playing for three months. I want to know what I did to deserve this party.”
“Kolya—”
“I told you Kolya hates parties. He’s like me. Have you ever seen a hitman who likes to be greeted with balloons and a ‘welcome home’ banner?”
“That was Aralina. And hey, they were black, white, and silver balloons. And your sister made the banner. She’s an amazing artist.”
“She goes to school for graphic design,” Kirill added dryly. “Don’t change the subject.”
“The last poker game. You made me sit for ten hours.” Unlike the first couple of times when he’d let me circle the anteroom, this time he dragged me straight into the game room. Nine p.m. to seven a.m. I knew better than to put on eyeliner and mascara now because I’d end up looking like a raccoon by the end of the game.
“And I won, didn’t I? I even bought you a diamond bracelet after.”
