Kirill: I’m coming tonight.
Sasha: Really? To the cottage?
Kirill: I meant in your cunt, but yeah, that, too.
Sasha: I can’t with you.
Kirill: That’s my charm. Do you need anything?
Sasha: Just you is fine.
Kirill: Fuck, Solnyshko. You need to stop saying shit that makes me hard while I’m surrounded by people.
Sasha: I’ll make it up to you tonight. Promise.
To say I’m starved would be an understatement. I miss him like crazy. It doesn’t help that he was busy with work these past few days, and we barely spoke over the phone or through texts. So I spent the whole week obsessing over our wedding pictures that he sent over.
I hate being away from him. Even during that period when he wasn’t talking to me, I was by his side every day, so this distance is making me anxious.
I keep wondering if he’ll be okay. What if someone attacks or attempts to assassinate him and the others don’t act fast enough?
It's hard to chase away those thoughts despite knowing Viktor, Yuri, Maksim, and the others are there for him.
Guess that makes me a control freak, because sometimes I believe no one other than me will be able to keep him safe.
Which is both wrong and unfair to the others. Especially Viktor.
But anyway, Kirill is coming tonight, and I might have gone a bit overboard with the preparations.
There are still many containers of food, both the ones Anna gave me and what was in the fridge. However, I tried to cook a fancy dish I found on the internet.
Needless to say, I burned it.
So now, I’m moving to plan B, which is reheating my food. In hindsight, I should’ve just done that from the beginning.
I guess I wanted to cook for him—or try to. Obviously, I suck at this.
Planning missions and shooting targets? No problem at all. Everyday things such as cooking? Tragic failure.
I managed to at least set the table decently. I have his favorite drink—whiskey—on the table, and mine, too.
While I’m a stereotypical Russian who loves their vodka, Kirill is more sophisticated and only has Macallan. Neat.
He does drink vodka when it’s offered to him, especially by the elders in the brotherhood, but it’s not his drink of choice.
He’s flexible that way, which makes him charming from the outside looking in.
Kirill is the type who’s fine with bending his choices and preferences if it helps in getting close to the right people. That’s why the smartest ones in the organization, namely Rai, Vladimir, and Adrian, are the most wary of him.
Rai often calls him a cunning fox, and she’s not wrong. He's not too hard to be snapped or too mellow to be pushed around. He’s just…an enigma.
And I love everything about him—including his manipulative side. I like to believe that he wouldn’t hurt the people he cares about the most, such as Karina and his men.
Konstantin, even.
Kirill acts like his brother is the most annoying existence on earth, but he refuses to take serious action against him. Yes, he sabotages him here and there, but it’s not permanent damage, and I think he only does it to spite Yulia instead of Konstantin.
I’m also a bit too smitten, so I could be biased.
My opinion still stands, though.
After I make sure the table is all set, I shower and slip on a pair of dark green lingerie I got on a small shopping trip I made the other day.
I was struggling with women’s underwear, but the lady in the store was super helpful without being judgmental about how a grown-ass woman didn’t know her exact sizes.
It was weird enough that I went out as a woman （still dressed in joggers and a hoodie, though）， and I automatically found myself in the men's section before I recalled that I’m not pretending anymore.
I thought about dying my hair back to blonde, but that’s too much of a change for now.
I put on the matching nightgown the girl suggested, then look in the mirror. Oh, wow. I actually look good in this. The transparent nightgown molds against my curves, and the color brings out the green in my eyes—and my ring.
Since I didn’t try them on in the store, I wasn’t expecting much. Needless to say, I was too embarrassed to be buying this stuff when I never have in my life.
Then I sit in front of the mirror and try to experiment with makeup by following YouTube tutorials.
I wish I’d brought the case Kirill got for me, but he said since I was going back anyway, I should leave the wedding dress behind.
Two hours later, I scrap everything and go with simple mascara and lip gloss.
Looks like it’s going to take me a long time to be a woman again, but hey, small steps. Right?
A knock sounds downstairs, and I flinch, but it’s entirely due to excitement. It’s still late afternoon, so I thought I had more time to tidy up the cottage, but maybe Kirill missed me so much that he came early.
At least, that’s what I choose to believe as I slip into a robe and wrap the belt around me. I practically fly down the stairs and throw the door open with a huge grin on my face.
I’m about to jump him in a hug, but I freeze.
It’s not Kirill who’s standing in front of the door.
Not even close.
Yuri looks at me without a change of expression, his hands balled into fists on either side of him and his face hard.
Oh, shit.
Shit.
“Uh, I…” I trail off, not knowing what to say.
Sorry, I’ve been lying to you all this time?
Hey, so here it is. I’m actually a woman?
“Surprise,” I say lamely.
“Far from it.” He pushes past me into the cottage and slams the door shut.
This is the first time I’ve seen this part of Yuri. He’s usually calm, collected, and the complete opposite of Maksim’s turbulent energy. He’s the anchor everyone turns to when they need reassurance. He’s definitely been mine, especially when I was having an identity crisis after Kirill was shot in Russia.
Now, however, he looks ready to destroy a mountain and all living beings on it. If I hadn’t known him for years, I’d be sure he’s an imposter.
“You…you’re not surprised I’m a woman.”
When he says nothing and continues fixating me with that hard edge, I shiver. “You…knew? Since when?”
“Since the day you walked into that special ops unit.”
“Wow, okay. Why…why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was supposed to keep a low profile, but that’s all in the past now.” He walks around the place, checking power sockets, beneath the sofa and chairs, in the lamps—everywhere.
He’s looking for cameras or listening devices, I presume.
“There aren’t any,” I say because I checked.
Yuri, however, doesn’t stop his thorough scouring. I tighten the belt around my waist as I watch him. It’s like I’m looking at an entirely different person. His movements are as sharp as his expression.
Once he’s satisfied there aren’t any, he comes down the stairs and glares at me.
“Why are you looking at me like that, Yuri? You’re giving me the creeps.”
“Good. You need more than that to come back to your fucking senses.” He tightens his fists. “Go get your things. We’re leaving.”
“Why would I go anywhere with you?” I pause. “Did Kirill send you?”