7. Alexei

7

ALEXEI

Five mornings in a row I’ve come down to the kitchen to find Bianca brewing coffee, wearing everything from a long T-shirt that barely covers her ass to micro shorts and a tank top. Her long brown hair is normally piled messily on top of her head, and I itch to pull it free and run my fingers through the silky strands.

She’s trying to kill me.

I know it’s in part because of my rejection on the night of our wedding. In truth, I wanted nothing more than to fuck her senseless, but she was drunk and vulnerable. And despite what she might think, I’m not an asshole.

So instead, I get to admire the Bianca show every morning, leaving me sporting a constant semi at the thought of those ridiculously small shorts and the tank tops that leave very little to the imagination.

It doesn’t help that I know exactly what’s beneath said tank tops, and it’s enough to have me jumping in a cold shower every day to try and calm the fuck down.

“Morning.” I slip onto a stool at the breakfast bar.

It’s barely seven, but it seems this is our new routine for now. It’s clear that sleep is not coming easy to Bianca from the dark circles that have started to appear beneath those beautiful blue eyes, but I’m giving her a week. A week to adjust to the house, the marriage, me .

Then if there’s no improvement in her mood, I’m going to take matters into my own hands.

I set my hands on the counter. “How did you sleep?”

Bianca ignores me as she loads the filter into the machine and turns it on.

I smirk as I watch her, my eyes flicking down to take in her delicious curves.

How I had the strength to turn her down is beyond me.

“I tossed and turned all night.” I slide off my stool to give her a hand.

I reach into one of the overhead cupboards and take out two glass mugs, all the while glancing sidelong at Bianca to gauge her reactions. But she stays quiet as she moves to the fridge to get the creamer. “Maybe it’s because I know you’re just across the hall wearing those skimpy little shorts…”

She freezes, her hands gripping the handle of the fridge so hard her knuckles turn white.

There it is .

“Do you want me to picture you in those shorts, Bianca? Is that why you parade around here with your ass practically on show?”

“I wear them—” She yanks open the fridge and pulls out the creamer. “—because my pig of a husband stocked my wardrobe with clothes that barely cover my ass.”

I bark a laugh, enjoying the sight of that scowl on her face once more. It’s better than the blank look I sometimes catch in her eyes when she thinks I’m not looking.

I’m well aware of the fact that she’s in my home against her will. That if she had a choice, she would leave in an instant, no matter if there is a hint of a spark between us that I am so desperate to explore.

I took away her choice, but it’s for her own good. A target was placed on her head the moment her father spoke out against Mario Gilanto. And when I failed to take him down, I only made his thirst for blood even worse.

I won’t risk her life. So, I’ll deal with her bad moods and snide remarks for as long as it takes for me to put a bullet in Mario Gilanto’s skull.

“What are your plans for today?” I reach for the fresh pot of coffee and pour us both a cup.

Bianca remains a few feet away, leaning against the marble counter with daggers in her eyes as she watches me.

“Let me see…” She sets the creamer down on the counter and lifts her right hand. “See my friends. Check. Go on a date with a guy I met in a bar. Check.”

I grind my teeth together at the mention of her going on a date when she’s legally bound to me .

I shouldn’t be jealous. I have no right to be. This marriage is nothing more than business. But that doesn’t stop my instincts from screaming at me to mark my territory.

“I get your point.”

“Do you, Alexei? Because my life has been completely turned upside down, and I don’t see it ever returning to normal.”

I lean back against the counter, digging my fingers into the cold marble and letting out a long breath to try and keep myself calm.

She’s hurting. Be patient.

“I get you’re frustrated?—”

“I’m done having the same patronizing conversations with you.” She grabs her coffee cup and the bottle of creamer off of the counter and storms out of the kitchen.

I don’t see Bianca for the rest of the day. I busy myself in the study on the ground floor, not wanting to seem too overbearing if I take residence in my actual study up on the top floor.

I check in with Dimitri and Anton, but neither of them have any updates of note other than the fact that Emilio is in hiding and is safe. For now. I keep that information tucked away to offer to Bianca when the time comes. She’s under the impression she’ll be visiting with him soon, and I don’t have the heart to take that away from her too.

When dinner is served later that evening, Bianca takes a seat at the table opposite me but barely eats or speaks. It’s like I’m rooming with a zombie.

Something has to change because I can’t stand to be the reason behind the haunted look in her eyes every time she actually glances my way.

“I’d rather eat in my room,” Bianca states after ten minutes of awkward silence. “Eating dinner at the table every night with you makes me feel like a charity case.”

“We eat at the dinner table in this house.” I pour myself some water from the pitcher between us.

The table is large, big enough to seat ten people, but I had the maid lay up two seats opposite one another to try and make the dinner appear more intimate. Not that it seems to be making the blindest bit of difference.

“And you most certainly aren’t a charity case, solnyshka .”

“So, there’s no other girl you’d rather be wining and dining with?”

“Only you.” I dip my chin .

I wait for her cheeks to heat, her breath to catch, but she simply drops her gaze to her plate.

After another ten minutes of silence, Bianca excuses herself after barely eating her food. I watch her leave with a painful ache in my chest.

I need to do something to cheer her up.

Two days later, I gently knock on Bianca’s door. It’s just after midday, and I haven’t seen her since our morning coffee in the kitchen. I try to hide the smile on my face at the surprise I have planned for her, hoping it’ll make her feel more at home in this house.

“Bianca?”

“Go away.”

I take a deep breath before knocking again. “I have something to show you.”

Footsteps shuffle across carpet on the other side of the door before it flies open to reveal Bianca wearing a pale blue sundress with thin straps to show off her delicate shoulders, her hair piled up on the top of her head. A few loose strands frame her face and I almost reach out to tuck them behind her ear.

“What?”

“Come with me.” I flash her a wink.

For a moment, I think she might slam the door in my face, but she steps out of her room and follows me down the stairs to the landing below.

I pause outside what used to be Danil’s old bedroom, my hand hovering over the door handle. “Ready?”

Bianca looks up at me with a confused expression. “I guess? ”

I bite the inside of my cheek to hide my smile as I open the door and usher her inside. She stands frozen for a moment, taking in what I’ve done to the room.

“You…you did this for me?” she whispers as she walks into the center of the room.

I nod.

“This is your home now, solnyshka . I wanted it to feel like it.”

She gazes around at the makeshift art studio I had created. This room has the best view overlooking the pool, with its own balcony where I set up a table and chairs so she could work outside if she wishes. I put in a huge set of drawers filled with every type of art supply I could think of—chalk, paint, charcoal, pencils as well as shelves filled to bursting with canvases and paper. I set up a large easel and work stool in front of the large glass doors as well as a loveseat against the right wall for a more comfortable option.

For a moment I see a flash of happiness in her eyes as she takes in the room.

I should have known better than to think a bedroom would be enough. She needs a way to fill her time, to have a creative outlet for all the emotions she’s been experiencing.

But then it’s as if she catches herself starting to feel happy and steals her expression back to one of icy indifference.

I frown as she rounds on me, her hands on her hips as shoots me a glare.

“I don’t need state of the art everything,” she states.

I blink. Is she being serious?

“You’re actually mad right now?”

“You can’t buy my affection, Alexei.”

“Why should I when you were so ready to give it away for free on our wedding night?” I know it’s a low blow, but I need her to meet me halfway here.

Does she honestly think I enjoy this arrangement? I’m not exactly thrilled about being married to a stranger either, but at least I was trying to do something thoughtful.

“Are you seriously going to bring that up every fucking time we have a conversation?” She throws her hands up in the air.

“I can’t help it, kisa . You make it so easy for me.” I cross my arms over my chest.

Anger flashes in her eyes, and I find myself taking a few steps back until I’m in the doorway, watching as she storms toward me.

A sharp thrill courses through my body at the sight of her in that dress with such fire in her eyes and a wicked smile on her lips.

There you are, solnyshka.

But then she’s reaching for the door and slamming it in my face.

I thought organizing a private art space for Bianca would have her warming up to me, but it seems to have done the opposite.

Raking my fingers through my hair, I let out a steadying breath as I walk away from the door, glancing out one of the windows as I descend the stairs. I pause when I catch sight of my youngest brother in the backyard.

“What is he doing here?”

My brothers were under strict instructions to stay away from the house until told otherwise, but I shouldn’t be surprised. Danil never likes being told what to do. He’s the typical youngest sibling, and it doesn’t help that he had me as a parental figure during adolescence .

“I didn’t realize you were here.” I cross the freshly mown grass.

He’s sitting cross-legged beneath a cherry blossom tree at the edge of the lawn, his eyes gazing up at the house, his expression telling me he’s lost in thought.

“I told you not to come until I said so,” I remind him, but then I halt in my tracks, gazing up at the blossoming flowers.

“It’s today, isn’t it?” I glance at Danil.

He lifts his eyes to mine and nods once.

My eyes flutter closed for a moment as a wave of grief hits me so hard my legs threaten to give out.

“I miss them.” His voice brings me back, reminding me that I have to be the strong one here.

I take a seat beside my brother, bringing my knees up and resting my forearms on them as we look to the house.

My eyes wander to the window of Bianca’s studio, wondering if she’s looking down at us right now.

Part of me hopes she is.

“Do you miss them?” Danil asks.

“Every day.” I swallow the lump in my throat.

“Me too.”

I ball my hands into fists, sinking the nails into the palm of my hands.

Sometimes, I hate the fact that my brothers were old enough to remember my parents, to remember the night that they were ripped away from us.

Would it have been kinder if they were children with hardly any memories to cling to?

Danil was fifteen when our parents were murdered, and I know he remembers it like it was yesterday.

I sure as hell do.

“Mom loved this house.” Danil sighs. “I remember her saying that she couldn’t wait for all of us to marry and fill the place with grandkids for her to spoil.”

I huff a laugh, though there’s nothing light about the sound.

What would she think if she were here now? To learn that I have a wife purely out of business obligations, not love?

I know it’s not what she would have wanted for her son, but it became my responsibility the moment I took over as head of the family.

“I know you told us all to stay away,” Danil mutters. “But this is the only place I feel close to them.”

“It’s okay.” I ignore the guilt of not realizing what day it was. “Let’s go and have a drink to honor their memory.”

“The way dad would’ve wanted us to.”

“Exactly.” I sigh, my eyes wandering to Bianca’s window as I think of my family.