“I have to go.” I stand up and let Bianca’s hand slip from mine. “If you need anything, message me.”
She looks up, those whiskey-colored eyes regarding me with interest. I could spend hours gazing into Bianca’s eyes.
“Okay,” she mouths and stands from the bed. As she walks past me, she reaches over and brushes the back of my hand with hers.
“Wow. Just . . . wow.” Milene turns herself around in the middle of the living room and walks toward the tall windows overlooking the city. “That view is to die for.”
I stand next to her, looking at the rooftops and streets visible below.
“So . . . did you two, you know?”
“What?”
“Did you have sex?”
“No.”
“Renata told me that her husband forced her to sleep with him the same night,” she says. “Theirs was also an arranged marriage, but her husband didn’t care that they were basically strangers. He hurt her real bad, Bianca. I was so afraid the same would happen to you.”
“He gave me the guest room. And he didn’t try anything so far.”
“Do you want him to?”
“Yes.”
Milene stares at me, her eyes wide. “Are you serious?”
“Why? He’s my husband. I am attracted to him.”
“Attracted to him? Bianca, are you blind? He is . . .”
“He is what?”
“He is . . . he has only one eye, for God’s sake, and you say you like him?”
“Yes, I like him. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No, I just . . . whoa. Did you ask what happened? To his face I mean.”
“No. He will tell me when he sees fit. I won’t ask.”
“And it doesn’t bother you? The scars? The eyepatch?”
“No. I find Mikhail sexy as hell.”
“You are out of your mind.”
“Wait until you see him in that tight Henley he put on this morning. Hot. I bet he’s even hotter without it.”
“My God, you really like him. How is that possible? I mean . . . look at you. You could have had any man you wanted. You . . . you dumped Marcus, for crying out loud.”
“Marcus is a spoiled idiot.”
“Okay, but . . .” She stops mid-sentence and stares at something over my shoulder. “Is that . . . that’s a child’s room. Why is there a . . .”
I take her forearm to bring her attention back to me.
“Mikhail has a daughter.”
“What? Did you know?”
“No.”
“Okay, I’m telling Dad. There must be something he can do to annul the marriage.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Are you fucking serious? You are twenty-one and he expects you to raise his kid!”
“Lower your voice. He never said that, and believe me, he doesn’t need me to raise his daughter. He’s doing that amazingly well himself. And I like Lena. She’s a great kid.”
“Bianca . . .”
“How is Father dearest doing? Mikhail stabbed him pretty hard, I hope his hand isn’t too damaged.”
Milene looks at me with horror in her eyes. “Your husband did that?”
“Father hit me again yesterday when I came to get my stuff. Mikhail wasn’t pleased with that.” I smile when I remember the look on my father’s face as he stared at the letter opener lodged into his palm. “It was very exciting to watch.”
“Okay, that’s it. I’m calling Mom’s psychiatrist. You need professional help.”
“No, I don’t think I do.”
*
Milene went home hours ago, and Mikhail still isn’t back. He messaged me around two saying that Sisi will take Lena for a sleepover. He probably didn’t want to leave his kid with a stranger, although, I wouldn’t have minded watching her.
It’s almost midnight. Should I be worried or is this the standard occurrence? I have no idea what exactly his job is in the Bratva.
I take my phone and open the contact list. Should I message him to ask if everything is okay? Will it sound stupid? Yeah, it probably will. I don’t want him to think I’m checking on him. Maybe I could ask something benign. If he replies, it means he’s okay.
23:14 Bianca: Regarding my plans. I need to do some shopping tomorrow. Also, I accepted an offer to teach a guest ballet lesson in the local ballet school on Thursday next week. It starts at 9 and I should be done by 12.
23:22 Mikhail: I probably won’t be back before tomorrow afternoon. I’ll send Denis to pick you up at 10 and take you shopping.