by Rina Kent
It takes everything in me to remain still. It’s not me; it’s a chemical reaction and stupid hormones. It’s not because of Kyle, right? I would have the same reaction even if someone else were doing this.
My legs tremble as I step into the dress and he slides it up my arms, wrapping his hand around my waist in the process.
The pads of his fingers dig into my hipbone, stroking back and forth. My body’s memory kicks in from the times he used to do that while making me wear that toy.
No.
“Stop touching me that way,” I snap.
His eyes gleam as he slides the dress up. “What way?”
“Like you’re molesting me.”
He chuckles, the sound amused. “That’s impossible since you’re my wife.”
“Well, I feel molested.”
“How so? I’m only helping you get dressed ever so casually.”
“You’re not helping me get dressed. You’re feeling me up.”
“That’s because I missed you, Princess.” His voice drops as his lips touch my ear. The shiver that breaks across my skin is too violent to ignore.
I push away from him, but in my haste, I trip. Kyle catches me by the arm, an infuriating smirk tugging on his lips.
“This is what happens when you don’t accept help offered to you.”
“I said I don’t need your help.”
“Are we back into the first stage of our relationship? Should I try to woo you all over again?”
“You can try—though I doubt you ever wooed me.”
“Oh, I did. After all, you screamed my name every night.”
“Won’t happen again.”
“We’ll see.”
“I can assure you that you won’t succeed.”
Kyle steps behind me and lifts the zipper of my dress agonizingly slowly, as if he’s enjoying the act. Goosebumps multiply on my skin as his fingers glide up the middle of my back.
I bite my lower lip to not let out any reaction. There is no way in hell I’m giving him the satisfaction of seeing me react to him.
“You underestimate me, Princess.” His voice gains a low, dark edge. “You really underestimate me.”
“It doesn’t matter what you do. I would never fall for your charms.”
“You did the first time.”
“I doubt it.”
“Why would you?”
I flip my hair back, and even though I’m so tempted to pull it into a bun, I don’t. I only started that habit after my grandfather’s death.
Facing him, I stare him right in the eye. “Simple: you’re not my type.”
He smirks, but there is no humor behind it. “I’m everyone’s type.”
“Not mine, arrogant jerk, so you might as well divorce me.”
Kyle loops his arms around my waist, pulling me against the hard ridges of his body. I gasp as an unmistakable bulge presses against the bottom of my stomach. “That won’t be happening. Do you know why?”
“No, and I’m not interested in finding out.”
“I’m interested in telling you. I might not be your type, but you’re mine.”
Of course he won’t make this easy. I think of that and not the fact that he just said I’m his type.
Lies.
Everything out of his mouth is a lie.
I try to wiggle free, but his fingers dig into my hip, keeping me in place and guiding me out of the hospital and toward his car. Katia and Ruslan follow after us, asking me silently if they should interfere, but I discreetly shake my head.
Sure, I can fight, act out, or feign another panic attack, but all of those are temporary solutions.
To make sure my plan works, I need to play his games.
The irony. It seems games are the only things Kyle and I will ever agree on.
He was always a step ahead, but this time, the ball is in my court.
This time, it’s his world that will be flipped upside down.
6
Rai
When we arrive home, Kyle has his hand around my back, his fingers digging into my skin as if he wants to make sure I’m indeed there.
Every step I take is a fight to not get caught in his touch or the way he sometimes strokes my skin as if he’s a doting lover.
Years ago when Kyle left and never looked back, I thought, with time, my life would return to normal, but months and years went by and I couldn’t go back in time to erase him. I already took a turn onto a one-way road and there’s no exit.
I guess a part of me will never be completely over the change he brought to my life. I can—have to—admit that so I’m able to move on with the rest of my life.
I might not have been able to make him disappear, but I can—and will—get past him.
Sergei calls us into the dining room as soon as we arrive. Kyle leads me inside with a grumble. “You should be resting, not attending to Sergei’s power demands.”
“He’s your boss.”
He pauses at the threshold, his expression blank. “No one is my boss, Princess.”
It’s odd how he used to say things like that in the past, but I seldom focused on them, on the truth and his real self behind them. I was in too deep to see the truth he offered subconsciously.
“I thought you were loyal to the brotherhood.” I feign nonchalance.
“Nah. I’m only loyal to you.”
Liar. Fraud.
I pull away from him and step inside the dining room. Sergei is sitting at the head of the table with Anastasia by his side. My grandcousin’s eyes are red and puffy as if she spent the night crying. Upon seeing me, she jerks upright and runs toward me. Then, she stops at the last second and stands in front of me. Which is much better than if she were to hug me. If she did, I wouldn’t have been able to play the role.
“Anastasia? Wow. You’re all grown up.”
She blinks. “So it’s true. You really don’t remember?”
“I’m sorry.” And I really am, because I have to make her believe I’ve forgotten about the last ten years of her life.
Anastasia shakes her head violently. “You don’t have to be. I understand.”
During the conversation, Kyle has joined me, standing by my side like a soldier. I don’t miss the way he’s watching my every movement. I don’t think he actually suspects me, but the way he looks at me with knitted brows and the twinkling in his cobalt blue eyes gives me the eerie feeling of being thrust under a microscope.
I continue talking with Anastasia after we sit down for a family dinner. Usually, Vlad or one of the others would join, but it seems Sergei gave instructions so it’s only the four of us. It’s on purpose, and Sergei has something up his sleeve.
He coughs, but it doesn’t turn into a fit. After taking a sip of water, he clears his throat and speaks in accented English. “It’s very unfortunate that you lost your memories, Rai.”
I pause sipping from the soup. “Yes.”
“However, it won’t end well if it goes on like this.”
“I agree.” Kyle peels a piece of lobster then places it on my plate like some doting husband. He’s excellent at playing the protective role and being there every step of the way.
It would’ve been so much easier if he were cold and treated me as he said on the phone. Like I’m nothing. Like he’ll leave me behind.
Because no matter how much I try to ignore it, this act has been throwing me off since the hospital.
“What do you mean it can’t go on, Papa?” Anastasia asks in a small voice.
“If the shareholders know Rai has lost her memory, they will actively try to dismiss her from her position. Her memory loss will remain between us.”
“Damien and Kirill found out,” I say.
“Vladimir, too.” Kyle’s voice is calm, but it’s deceptive, lethal.
“I’ve spoken to them and they will keep this a secret.”
“Damien and Kirill?” I scoff. “Damien might not care, but Kirill wouldn’t let this slide just because you told him to.”
>
“He’s smart enough to know changing V Corp’s management would be detrimental for the brotherhood, especially at times like these.” Sergei sips from his water, clearing his throat and huffing out deep breaths. I know it’s taking everything in him to rein in the cough.
If it were anyone else, they would’ve given up and spent their days in a peaceful private clinic. But like me, Granduncle knows sacrifices should be made. As Dedushka once told me, nothing great is easily accomplished, because if that were the case, anyone could be great.
“Rai,” he calls.
“Yes?”
“You’ll act as you usually do. Fortunately, there’s not much difference personality-wise, but ten years ago, you didn’t have your degree and were dependent on Nikolai.”
“Ruslan and Katia will help.”
“I need someone closer to watch over you.” He grabs a fork and points it at the man sitting beside me. “Kyle.”
No. This isn’t how the plan is supposed to go. I can’t have Kyle with me at all times. That will definitely expose my plan.
Said jerk places his hand on top of mine and squeezes gently. “Of course. Anything to help her.”
“I can figure it out on my own.” I try arguing with my granduncle. “I have Ruslan and Katia. Vlad, too.”
“I’m not taking any risks. We have a lot at stake right now, and if V Corp’s profits are in jeopardy, the brotherhood won’t have anything to fall back on.”
I get Sergei’s angle, I really do, I just don’t like where this is going. I’ve spent so long growing V Corp, and now Kyle will get his filthy hands into one of the legacies I’ve been fighting tooth and nail for.
I don’t like that I have to keep up with Kyle even in company matters. I grew that company, it was me, so why does he get to stick his nose in it?
“Kyle and Anastasia will help you in the company so you don’t slip in front of the employees.”
“Anything to help Rayenka.” She beams, and I smile back even though I want to tell Granduncle there’s no way I’d slip. I can’t, because that would blow the cover I’ve spent too long perfecting.
After dinner, we retreat to our room.
I remain near the entrance, arms crossed, as I concentrate on the situation and my options.
Kyle is already inside, removing his jacket and laying it casually on a chair—the same chair he fucked me over the other night while I screamed his name. I close my eyes to chase away the assault of the memories. That’s the last thing I need in this situation.
Focus, Rai.
Facing him, I speak in my sternest tone. “I want separate rooms.”
He doesn’t even lift his head, and I’m not sure whether or not he heard me, so I repeat, “I said, I want separate rooms.”
This time, he stares at me as he unbuttons his shirt, his fingers gliding on the buttons unhurriedly, almost like in some strip show. “And I want you to remember. Sadly, we don't always get what we want, Princess.”
“If you expect me to share a room with you, you’re crazy.”
“What’s so crazy about a married couple sharing a room?” He stalks toward me, his shirt half-unbuttoned, revealing the snake tattoo that’s rippling against his chest muscles. “Have you forgotten that we’re married?”
“I don’t remember that so you’re simply a stranger, and I can’t share a bed with a stranger.”
He halts in front of me, somehow caging me between his frame and the door. Kyle pauses at his fourth button, hinting at his chiseled chest, but not exactly showing it. And now I’m staring at his chest. Jesus.
I snap my head up, but if I thought his face would be easier to stare at, I’m proven utterly wrong. Maintaining eye contact with Kyle is like swimming against a violent current. I know I’ll probably drown or hit my head on a rock, but I still carry on anyway.
“Perhaps I should refresh your memories, Princess.”
“What?”
He grabs me by the arm and spins me around. I gasp as he gently pushes me backward and I end up crashing on the bed. The mattress is soft at my behind, but the impact feels like that current from earlier throwing me down a crushing waterfall.
Kyle hovers over me, his thighs on either side of mine as he grabs my wrists and imprisons them atop my head. I attempt to fight, but he’s caging me so tightly I cannot even begin to escape his brutal clutches.
I try to lift my knee and hit him in the balls, but he smirks as if figuring out my intentions and keeps my thighs pressed down with his legs. “Easy, tigress.”
Huffing, I turn my head away. I need a break from being caught in his gaze. Besides, this position and the familiar bed only remind me of the ludicrous things he did to my body night in and night out.
“Do you remember the first time we met?” Kyle asks in a low, slightly husky voice.
“No.”
“Right. You lost your memories.” He gently clutches my chin and forces me to face him. After he makes sure I’m staring at him, he slides his thumb beneath my bottom lip. “The first time I saw you was about nine years ago. You attended this Swan Lake performance by some European ballet with Nikolai, because he was infuriatingly Russian and liked to show it even in ballet performances. Adrian was there, too, because he’s interested in that for some reason or another. You had your arm in Nikolai’s and you wore gloves, white, like your dress. It was long and bright in the light, which reminded me of a distant image I thought I had long forgotten. Angels. Not real ones, but those from my father’s favorite painting. You were speaking animatedly to Nikolai and Adrian, discussing the performance. Your grandfather had laugh lines around his eyes as he listened to you. Do you know what I thought back then?”
My lips have been parted the entire time he’s been speaking, trapped in the calm way he retells our first meeting. I remember that day, because even though I thought he was another one of Dedushka’s ‘killers’, I was somehow caught in the gleam in his eyes, the way they darkened as if he were empty and trying to drag everyone else into that emptiness.
“No.” Instead of snapping, my voice is as calm as his. “And I don’t want to know.”
“I thought you looked like a typical mafia princess,” he continues, as if I haven’t said anything. “But I was soon proven wrong when I heard you talk to Nikolai. You weren’t spoiled or acting like a brat with privileges. You were straightforward, knew what you wanted, and went to it.”
“Telling me about the past won’t make a difference.”
“Yes, it will. How else are we going to get familiar with each other again?”
“Why should we?”
“Because you’re my wife and I’m no fucking stranger you’ll sleep separately from. If familiarity is what you need, then I’ll give it to you.”
“What if I need space?”
“I don’t believe in space. That’s a word invented by losers who couldn’t figure out their own minds.”
“And you have?”
“I have.” There’s so much conviction in his tone, it takes even me by surprise.
“So what now? Are you going to keep holding me like this?”
“I’m also telling you about the past.”
“The one I said I don’t want to hear about?”
“The one you want to forget about, but we’ll rectify that. Where was I? Right, the first time I met you, after the ballet. You don’t go to those anymore, because they remind you of Nikolai. The one time you went to one after his death, you hid in a corner and reemerged with your eyes red. Since they weaken you and you’re in no position to allow weakness, you stopped going altogether.”
He…he shouldn’t know that. I made sure no one saw me that way —not even Ruslan and Katia.
“So that’s the thing, Princess. I didn’t only see your strength, I also witnessed your weakness. It was bound to happen after Nikolai asked me to keep an eye on you when I wasn’t on a sniping mission. You were a proud thing and didn’t want to admit when you needed help, but you were a fast learner. You obv
iously enjoyed my company since you wouldn’t leave me alone, and that’s when you fell head over heels for me.”
Lying asshole.
I didn’t fall in love with him. The most frustrating part is that I can’t contradict him because that would mean I do remember.
“But then again, I’m the very loveable type, Princess.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“Every morning,” he goes on in his serene voice, “we woke up early and jogged together, then I taught you how to shoot for long distances because, as you said, Vladimir sucks as a teacher.”
He’s the one who said that, not me. Jesus. He tells a story so convincingly, mixing lies with truths. If I didn’t know my own memories, I wouldn’t suspect it.
“Needless to say, you fell in love with me more with every passing day. Especially after I kind of saved your sister.”
“I don’t believe any of that.”
“I’m the one with the memories, remember?” He brushes his lips against mine and I taste something different than any of the other times he’s kissed me, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.
Kyle has always had a distinctive taste and smell, but right now it feels like a mixture of longing, despair, and something else.
“That doesn’t mean whatever you said happened.”
“It did.”
“In your dreams, maybe.”
“In my dreams, I’m thrusting into your wet cunt and feel it strangle my dick as you scream my name. Do you want me to show you?”
Blood rushes to my cheeks. How can he remain so calm while saying shit like that? I’m on the verge of combusting. “Let me go.”
“You’re a fan of that sentence, but you should know by now that it doesn’t work on me. I need to continue touching you so you can familiarize yourself with me again. You usually get aroused the moment I touch you.”
“That’s not true!”
Challenge twinkles in his eyes. “Do you want me to prove it?”
“No!”
“I’m in the mood to check.” His fingers leave my face and bunch the material of my dress.
