Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
I can’t afford to be stuck in Kirill’s web with everything that’s resting on my shoulders.
I simply can’t afford to be distracted.
So I nod.
The moment I do, it’s like I’ve removed a spell.
Kirill releases my jaw and lifts his hand off my waist. I can see the closing off of his face as he says, “Very well.”
He rolls to the other side of the bed and gets up in one swift movement. I try to catch a glimpse of his face, but he’s completely sealed himself off as the strict, unapproachable captain.
A knock on the door startles me, then Nadia’s voice follows, “Are you up?”
“Yes, one moment.” I start to stumble out of bed.
“No need to hurry. Just come out for breakfast and your shot whenever you’re ready.”
“Will do, thanks!”
As Nadia’s voice and presence disappear, so has Kirill. He vanished into the en-suite bathroom while I was talking to her.
My feet itch to follow after and try to clear the air, but what’s the point? It’s better this way.
I did the right thing.
At least, I hope so.
After I put on the dress and tights Nadia left on the chair for me, I wash my face in the guest bathroom down the hall. It takes me more time than necessary since I have to stop every now and then due to the pain in my shoulder.
Once I deem myself presentable enough, I go to meet the old couple.
Like last night, Nadia doesn’t allow me to help and, instead, gives me some medication. The shot, too, of course. I nearly cry waiting for the ordeal to be over.
“You’ve improved so fast,” Nicholas comments as he begrudgingly lets me help him in setting the table.
“She’s young and strong,” Nadia replies while bringing some toast.
“I think the will is everything.” He smiles at me as my uncle would. “You definitely have a strong will, young lady. Protect it with everything you have.”
“My father told me to stay alive. Everything else can be fixed as long as I’m alive,” I say and resist the tears that well in my eyes.
“Those are wise words,” Nicholas says.
I wish he’d been wise enough to stay alive.
“Oh, you’re here. Let’s sit down for breakfast.” Nadia ushers Kirill to the seat beside me, and for some reason, I hold my breath for a moment too long.
He’s in black pants and a light blue button-down that molds against his pecs and biceps. And he’s wearing those glasses again that make him look tamer than he actually is.
He thanks Nadia for the food and compliments Nicholas on a chair he made himself.
But he doesn’t look at me or address me. Not even once. He’s subtle about it, too. It’s not that he’s glaring at me or treating me differently.
Maybe I’m imagining things. After all, this is just him being himself. He’s the same Kirill I’ve come to know during the past couple of months.
I may have gotten a glimpse of a change in him during this ordeal, but that might simply be me trying to see a human side of him.
And failing.
“Do you even know how to use that?”
I lift my head at Nadia’s voice. I’ve been kind of acting like her inexperienced apprentice in the kitchen, and she’s been letting me.
Despite her stern appearance and her merciless needles, Nadia is a kind woman with a natural talent as a caregiver, which makes her the best type of nurse.
I put the knife down and smile awkwardly. I do know how to use it, but only in combat, not in the kitchen.
Nadia, who’s dressed in a lively green apron, shakes her head and takes over the task.
We’ve been staying with the old couple for six days now. The storm ended last night, and today, Nicholas and Kirill went to the local market to stock up.
I wanted to go out, too, but my personal nurse told me that would only happen over her dead body.
The pain in my shoulder has lessened to a dramatic degree, and I can even move it freely now, but if I do it too fast, there’s a dull ache.
Nadia steals a glance at me. “You don’t usually cook, do you?”
I get another knife and peel the potato to mimic what she’s doing. “Not really.”
“How do you keep that husband of yours fed, then?”
My chest jolts, as is the case every time I’m reminded of the roles Kirill and I are playing. I’ve come to the realization that it’s impossible to get used to this fake marriage. Sometimes, I just want to blurt out that we’re not actually a couple.
But then again, I don’t want to hurt their feelings after everything they’ve done for me. As Kirill mentioned, they’re traditionalists with set values and might have trouble accepting us if we’re not ‘married.’
“We just get by,” I answer with a smile.