Chapter 32

Thirty-Two

R uby

He's been agitated for the last week, and I'm not sure why. I do know it has to do with me, because he returned home from work in a mood last Monday, and on Tuesday morning before he'd left for work, he'd introduced me to my second guard. A tall, lean, lethal man covered in ink. And by covered, I mean covered . The man had ink on his face, for goodness' sake.

I'd spent the entirety of Tuesday with Maxim hovering far too close for comfort, watching as Pavel moved about the property, overtaking all security measures and, in general, shaking up the way of things at the Volkov mansion.

It had been a week of stepping on glass, and I was done.

"Please tell Kirill to meet me in our room when he's home," I say as I leave the cookies I'd baked on the cooling trays in the kitchen, lifting my freshly poured tea from the counter and walking, with Pavel walking close behind, to the stairs. At the base, I turn to my new guard and lift a hand. "I'm only going upstairs. There is no need to follow."

"I will be outside the door, if there is anything you need."

I already know there is no use in fighting with him. The man is immovable when he's made a decision. When it comes to security—especially mine—it appears his word is law.

Over his shoulder, I shoot a glare at Maxim who only shrugs.

Spinning around, I take the stairs quickly. The pitter patter of little kitty paws thuds next to me, with the clickity clack of Simba's paws not far behind.

I don't look at Pavel as I move inside my bedroom, shutting the door hard in his face.

I dislike being so watched. I can't even go to the bathroom in what is supposed to be my own home without a man waiting outside the door.

I don't know what happened to make Kirill so afraid, but I'm over it.

Making myself comfortable in the chaise chair by the window, I watch as the sun beats down on the land. The days are growing longer, the sun beating brighter. It won't be long before the land drinks up the snow to display fields of green.

With a chirpy meow, Nala settles into the crook of my hip while Rafiki hangs over the side of the chair to paw at Simba. Poor Simba looses a doggy huff as Rafiki hops down to wiggle his way between Simba's front paws for a snuggle. He might act like he doesn't love the kittens, but I know better. Simba would tear anyone who hurt his brother and sister from limb to limb.

Dropping my hand to his head, I give him a loving stroke. "Good boy, Simba."

I'm disturbed by a weight settling behind me on the chaise. Sleep clings heavy to me as a big hand strokes the hair from my face. I groan, exhausted.

"Sleeping again?" Kirill muses softly.

I grunt. "Go away."

"What are you doing while I'm at work to be this tired, little wife?"

"Nothing," I huff, trying to swat at his petting hand. "That's the problem."

"What do you mean?"

"I can't do anything with Pavel following me around like he does."

"You baked cookies today," he says. "They are delicious, by the way. Tatiana saved me one."

"One?" I frown. "There's none left?"

"You made a batch of cookies in a house where men roam all day, and you thought they would survive?"

I want to weep. I'd been craving those cookies with a fierceness that had urged me to make a double batch. "There's not even one left?"

"I've never had an apple cookie before. They are delicious." He nuzzles my hair. "You'll have to make them again."

I push up to sit. "I made a double batch."

"Yes, and they were a hit."

Tears prick my eyes. I can't believe it. I really can't, but there they are.

I'm an emotional mess, probably because I'm due for my period any day, and I've had a scary watchdog following me around everywhere I go. I'm annoyed and overstimulated, and someone ate all my cookies.

Kirill sits up slowly, his eyes dark on my face. "Are you crying, Ruby?" he asks softly. "Over cookies?"

"I just think it's really rude that someone would eat all my cookies. I spent hours making them and I didn't even get one. Not one." I sniff, then drop my face into my hands because I am crying.

What is wrong with me?

"Ruby."

I stand, livid that I'm crying. Livid about the week I've had.

I stomp to the bathroom, turning to yell at my clearly shocked husband. "I'm tired, Kirill. My head hurts, and I'm so tired of being followed around by Pavel. I thought Maxim was a lot, but he was nothing in comparison!" I'm shaking now. "I'm about to get my period, and I wanted those stupid cookies!" A hot tear streams down my face. My shame peaks at the shocked humor on his face. "And I swear to God if you try to fuck me tonight, I'll end you."

With that, I slam the bathroom door.

And then I sob. Full-bodied, loud, messy sobs.

When I've gathered myself enough, I draw a bath and sink into hot water where I fall into sobs yet again.

A knock sounds on the bathroom door a half an hour later, and Kirill enters carrying a bowl of what smells like heaven. His eyes sweep my face, and a tender smile plays at his lips as he sits next to the tub.

"It's store-bought." He hands me the bowl, and I see a sloppy mess of warm apple pie. "It's not an apple cookie, but I hope it helps."

"You went to the store?" Emotion pricks at my nose. I sniff. Good grief, why am I so hormonal?

"I had one of the men go."

I take a bite. He's right, it's no apple cookie. But it is a close second. "Thank you."

This time he does let his smile stretch. "You are welcome."

I take another bite. Kirill watches me so closely, that I frown. I jiggle my bowl. "Do you want some?"

"And risk my life? No, thank you."

I blush. "I'm sorry. I had a rough day, and didn't wake well. I should have thought to put some cookies aside." I look down into my bowl. "I've never lived with so many people before."

He cocks his head. "Does it bother you?"

"A little." I shrug and amend, "I'm just not used to it."

"Fair." He keeps his eyes firmly fixed on my face. "I have an obligation this Saturday. I would like for you to come?"

"An obligation?"

"A charity ball."

"You?" I feel my brows widen. "Charity?"

"Don't look so surprised. Volk Vault Bank is heavily involved in multiple charities."

"And what is this weekend's charity?"

"Children. Orphaned children, specifically."

I feel my face soften. No, I feel my entire body soften. "I would be honored to accompany you."

"As my wife?"

I feel my breath catch but try to hide it with a scoop of pie. "Is that not what I am?"

His grin is slow. He's not deterred at all by the fact that I've just taken a nibble of pie. He bends down and kisses me.