I lift my chin. “Maybe it’s to claim you, too.”
A smile lifts his lips—it’s gradual and big and so gorgeous, I wish I could take a picture of it so I can stare at it whenever I please.
Viktor knocks on the window, and Kirill finally releases me and steps out of the car, but not before he gives me a weird look.
My leg is better, though the limping isn’t gone. The moment we’re in the house, a huge confetti bomb pops and Karina shouts, “Happy Birthday, Kirya!”
Viktor, Yuri, Maksim, and Kirill all stop. Though Yuri and Maksim were in on this and helped Karina and me with the preparations, they’re still Kirill’s guards and will abandon the ship if he so much as hints at any form of disdain.
The man of the house stares at the festive-looking table and the decorations on the walls, the ceiling, and even the floor. Anna went all out and prepared dishes that could feed the entire house for a few days. To the side of the feast, a huge birthday cake with Kirill’s name on it sits majestically on a wheeled cart.
“I had it specially made,” Karina chatters on when he shows no sign of approving or disapproving the situation. “They almost ruined it on the way here, but it was saved last minute! Anna made a lot of food, and we can invite everyone if you want, except for Yulia since, you know…”
She trails off when I limp to her side and hug her by the shoulder. She’s wearing a cute pink dress with tulle and matching nails and pumps. She even had her hair done up as if it were her own birthday party.
“Karina went to a lot of trouble for this,” I offer in a careful tone. Because he’s looking a bit displeased, and I can’t have him break his sister’s heart.
“Sasha, too,” Karina says. “And Anna. We wanted to surprise you.”
A moment of silence falls over the hall before he strides to his sister. She stiffens for a moment, but then he kisses the top of her head. “Thank you, Kara.”
She grins like an idiot. “You’re welcome!”
He side-hugs Anna as a form of thanks, and she smiles like a proud mama. Kirill merely pats my shoulder on his way to the head of the table and leans in to whisper, “So this is why you wanted to come home.”
I nod.
“As I said. You could’ve told me.”
I could’ve?
Has he seen himself in the mirror? Who would dare disturb His Majesty about something as trivial as a birthday?
I don’t get to say anything as he pulls his chair out. The rest of us follow, and Maksim calls the rest of the guys after Kirill allows it.
Chatter and laughter echo around the table, even though Kirill says little to nothing and only when Viktor, who’s sitting at his right, engages him.
Karina is on his left, and I’m beside her, listening to how excited she is and that she couldn’t sleep last night.
The entire time, I steal glances at Kirill. I don’t know if he’s okay with this or just pretending for the sake of Karina and Anna.
The general laughter and clinking of plates stop when Yulia and Konstantin walk into the party. She’s wearing black today as if it’s a funeral and stomps her foot on the floor upon seeing the guards at the dinner table.
“What’s the meaning of this?”
Karina turns and clears her throat. “It’s…uh…you…see…today is…well, Kirill’s…birth…”
“Get it together, you idiot. Don’t you know how to form sentences?”
Tears gather in Karina’s eyes before they stream down her delicate face. Her lips clamp shut, and all her carefree energy disappears.
“Mother, no.” Konstantin shakes his head.
“What? She was talking like an idiot.”
“You’re the one who turned her into what she is.” Kirill rises to his full height and holds Karina by the shoulder. “If you talk to her in that tone again, I’m going to throw you out of the house.”
“What did you just say to me?”
“I have full ownership of this place. If you don’t respect my people in it, you’ll be out in a fucking instant and I’ll make it my mission to burn each and every one of your designer bags.” He stares at his brother. “Take her away from here. I don’t want to see her face.”
Konstantin’s jaw clenches, but he starts to drag a fussy Yulia away. I could tell he was extremely uncomfortable with the way she spoke to Karina, too.
“How dare you kick me out? I’m the one who gave birth to you, you insolent piece of trash—”
The door closes behind them, and Kirill smiles down at Karina. “Don’t believe anything that woman says. Just because she gave birth to us doesn’t make her a mother, okay?”
She nods twice, smiling back, and even hugs him.
Then she pulls back to run to the other side of the room and brings back a huge black box wrapped in white ribbons. The present is a tailored tuxedo with gorgeous matching shoes and a dress shirt.
Did she spend a fortune on this? Definitely.
Anna also gives him her gift, a scarf that she knitted herself. The guys offer him cards with services he might ask of them on their days off—as if he can’t do that already.
Kirill smiles at that, but it disappears when he finds a similar card from me in the pile.
So I kind of had to do the same as the others in order to not stand out. Only Karina and Anna gave him personal gifts, after all.
There’s also a third gift, a luxurious watch that Karina swears isn’t from her, but she’s the only one in this house who’s rich enough to be able to buy it.
While they’re busy arguing about the watch and Maksim calling Karina humble, then Viktor hitting him and Yuri scolding him, I slip out of the dining room and head to the bathroom with a huge smile on my face.
Not to jinx it, but I think this birthday is a success.
After I finish my business, I wash my hands and freeze when I catch Kirill’s reflection in the mirror. He’s leaning against the doorframe, legs crossed, as he toys with the card I slipped him with the ones from the other guards.
“So this is all I get for a huge birthday that you nearly broke your leg to have me attend?”
I let the water drip from my hands into the sink for a minute, then face him while I dry them with the towel. “That card can mean many things. Use it wisely.”
“I have so many cards. What if I lose this special birthday gift?”
I grin. “Stop being an asshole. I actually got you another gift, but I couldn’t show it to you in front of everyone else.”
He raises a brow. “Another gift? Where is it?”
I bite my lower lip, then I unbuckle my pants. The sound of rustling clothes is so heightened in the silence that I nearly chicken out.
In one go, I lower my boxer briefs so that he can see the black ink surrounded by redness right above my pussy.
Kirill straightens, his expression turning into one of bewilderment as he walks up to me, grabs me by the hip, and gently touches his fingers along the Russian word.
Luchik’s.
“Fuck,” he lets out in a voice filled with awe. “When did you get this done?”
“This morning.”
“When you were supposed to be with Karina?”
I nod.
He narrows his eyes, and his grip tightens on my hip, his fingers digging into it. “Did a man ink your skin, Sasha? Did you let a man look at what’s fucking mine?”