“See, I was right. And for offering you a bite, you threatened to throw wine at my face.”
“You were obnoxious,” she said between bites. What she said was true. I set out to annoy her, so I didn’t reply. I was finding out that the constant bickering was getting old. Besides, she appeared to be eating her food with enthusiasm, and I didn’t want to upset her and cause her to lose her appetite again or stop eating out of spite. It baffled me, this satisfaction occupying space inside me from watching her eat. I didn’t want to examine why the hollow feeling invading my chest seemed to disappear when Lucy became genuinely happy with something I’d done.
It was so long ago—that time during the cake tasting. A wariness still shrouded her, but she seemed pleased when I gave her babushka’s ring. When I had the chef prepare a menu specifically centered around her favorite dishes. Ruined in a few minutes because I couldn’t admit to anyone that my wife fascinated me.
Still, I continued fighting it by doubling down and erasing whatever affection she started feeling for me. When she caught me with Anya, that moment obliterated any hope of having a tolerable marriage.
So I clung to my purpose of revenge and abandoned my marriage.
Until I couldn’t stand her existing in my world where she seemed happy ignoring me.
No longer.
We might not last, but I wasn’t going to be alone in my misery.
I downed my scotch, walked over to the bar, and brought the bottle back with me.
Lucy had finished eating and noticed me pouring more spirits into my glass.
“Do you want more food?” I asked.
“No, I’m full. Shouldn’t we head back to the party?”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather hide in here.”
Lucy gave a breathy laugh. “And leave poor Kolya to the crowd?”
“I did my duty and brought him home.”
“That was a brilliant move, by the way,” she said.
I raised a brow.
“Delaying his release to make the DA look bad right before the election.”
I stared at my drink. “You’re not thinking terribly of me?”
“I know what you are, Kirill. I grew up mafia, remember?”
“You don’t think I did Kolya dirty for leaving him in that hellhole?”
She circled the rim of her wineglass a few times before responding. “Each move is calculated. I doubt Kolya was idle during his time at Supermax. I’d even guess he made connections or instigated a few hits while inside. It’s notunheard of for the mafia to deliberately send a soldier to prison to get rid of someone out of their reach.”
Despite myself, a grin lifted the corners of my mouth. “I have to apologize.”
“For what?”
“For calling you gullible when you’re so far from the definition of the word. I was an idiot to underestimate you.”
“You were,” she replied, but then a wariness stole over her face again. I sighed. Her distrust was wholly my fault. How long did we have? Nine more months before she could divorce me. Somehow, the remaining time reminded me of babies. Didn’t I say I would put babies inside her? When did I stop plotting that? Oh yes, Anya spectacularly made me feel guilty for marrying someone else when I made it clear to her before I wasn’t the marrying kind.
Guilt that she married Davenport to make me jealous.
The same guilt reared its ugly head a little, but not as heavily as before. I should make Anya Kolya’s problem.
“So what are we really doing here, Kirill? Because I’m tired of all this whiplash from you. The public has accepted that I’m an undesirable wife. I’m properly humiliated.”
“Are you though?” I asked.
